Code Name: Baby (17 page)

“She's pretty tough, your friend.”

Wolfe started to say that Kit wasn't his anything. Instead he stared out into the night and wondered when his disposition had started to turn surly. “She's handled the ranch by herself since her parents died. She can take care of herself.” He shook his head. “She always was stubborn.”

Izzy held up a Thermos bottle. “Coffee?”

Wolfe shook his head. He already had enough adrenaline churning through his system.

“Smart. Stubborn. Good sense of humor.” Izzy's voice was slow and casual. “Great legs. A killer body in those muddy jeans.” He tapped quietly on the steering wheel. “
Especially
in those muddy jeans.”

“You have a point hidden in all this?”

“Yeah, there's a point. She's got a thing for you. From where I'm sitting, I'd say you've got a thing for her, too.”

“Even if it were true, I could still handle this mission.” Wolfe glared into the darkness. “And it's not.”

Izzy blew at his coffee. “You'd better make damn sure of that. Cruz is dangerous and unstable. He'll use whoever or whatever is available to accomplish his objective. That means Kit and the dogs.”

“Make your point.”

“If you can't handle this assignment for personal reasons, I'll have someone else from Foxfire pulled in to replace you.”

“Like hell.” Wolfe shot the answer back. “I know the terrain. I know Cruz. I'm the best man you're going to find.”

“Under normal circumstances, I'd agree with you on that.” Izzy nodded his head toward the back of the van. “The woman lying back there—she changes everything.”

“Not for me, she doesn't.” Wolfe's voice was cool and sharp, like one of Izzy's precision scalpels.

For a long time Izzy didn't move. Then he released the emergency brake and headed toward the truck Wolfe had been given to replace Kit's now derelict Jeep. “Make damn sure you're right about that, Houston. A whole lot more than your sex life depends on it.”

“The day I can't handle myself is the same day I pull out of Foxfire.” And it wouldn't be happening for at least a decade, Wolfe swore silently.

“There's one other thing you should know. Those pills Kit takes—”

“She said they were vitamins.”

“I found the bottle halfway up the hill, above the spot where she fell into the canal. And they aren't vitamins. They weren't anything I'd heard of. So I made some calls, checked with NIH.”

Wolfe sensed something coming that he didn't want to hear. “Go on.”

“She's sick, Wolfe. It's in the rheumatoid arthritis family. Early stages, according to the files of the doctor who's treating her in Albuquerque.”

“How the hell did you get into his files?”

Izzy gave a small, dismissive shrug. “No security in these places.”

“How bad?”

“Deterioration of the major joints. Substantial pain, currently moderated by experimental medications. But eventually they'll stop working. Then she'll have to try a new drug.”

Wolfe was barely aware of his fists clenched at his thighs. “How long will that go on?”

“I'm not a mind reader.” Izzy sounded angry. “There are no crystal balls in science.” He glared into the darkness. “She'll probably get worse. The pain will probably increase. She probably won't be able to take her current meds, because they'll eat out the lining of her stomach. They may already be doing that. It's a known side effect.”

Wolfe ran a hand across his eyes. “What else?”

“No kids. That's absolutely out now that she's taking this current medication.”

“Does she know about that?”

Izzy shrugged. “Experimental meds can't be dispensed to test subjects without full disclosure of known side effects so I'd say yes, she knows. But having children is the least of her concerns.” He took a hard breath. “Unless there are some unexpected breakthroughs, the deterioration is going to increase.”

“Define increase.”

“She won't be able to walk,” Izzy said quietly. “Then she'll be looking at surgery.”

W
OLFE STARED
at Izzy. There were a hell of a lot of things he thought about saying, but where did you start?

No children. Decreased mobility. Constant pain.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. “You're certain about this, Teague?”

“Only one thing's ever certain. Life's a bitch, and then you die.”

“Great bedside manner you've got.”

Izzy glanced across at Wolfe. “I'm sorry if I sound blunt. Over time I've learned there's only one way to deliver bad news—fast and ruthless. Otherwise you hurt people more in the end.”

Wolfe looked out the window at the stars flickering between racing clouds. “Kit doesn't know any of this?”

“She would know about the side effects. I saw some consent forms for meds in her file. I doubt she knows the full picture yet.”

They passed expensive homes dotting the foothills on either side of the road. “You'll be staying up near the top of the hill,” Izzy said. “We have our people set up in all the nearest houses.”

None of whom would stop Cruz for a second, Wolfe thought. Only another Foxfire member had any hope of doing that. And with Cruz's enhanced abilities, the mission's difficulty had taken a serious spike.

“You'll find encrypted cell phones in the back seat, but the land line in the house is clean. Use it if necessary. There's a safe room with food, medical supplies, and weapons in the basement.”

“All the comforts of home, in other words. Nice prep.”

Wolfe felt bone-tired as he climbed out of the van. He was superbly trained, calm and resourceful in the face of ambush, amphibious assault and automatic weapon fire. But facing Kit's future was something else. He had no weapons in his arsenal against a silent, progressive disease.

“What about the dogs? That's the first thing she'll ask me.”

“We've set up a short-term kennel in the den. Give me a list of anything we didn't think of. Since it's not my area of expertise, it could be a long list.”

Wolfe glanced back at Kit, who hadn't moved since they'd begun their drive. “What am I authorized to tell her about the dogs?”

Izzy didn't answer.

“Give me an answer, Teague.” Wolfe's voice was biting. “They're what she loves most, and she's poured twenty-six hours out of every day into training them. Isn't she entitled to know what they are and who she's really working for?”

Izzy stared back at him without expression. “She is not authorized to have that information at this time. She got the dogs from a breeder with military and police connections. That is all she's approved to know.”

“What about the fact that they're in danger?”

“You get the same answer.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.”

There was a thump on the road behind them. Izzy glanced into his rearview mirror and cursed. “Damn back door. We lost the spare tires again. I've had to fix that cargo rack outside twice already. Whoever requisitioned this piece-of-junk van should be shot.”

“I'll get them.” Wolfe sprinted after the two heavy-duty tires vanishing into the darkness. He blocked their roll, then slid one under his arm and balanced the other on his shoulder. When he walked back to the van, Izzy was outside staring at him in the glow of the lights. “What's wrong?”

Izzy shook his head. “Those tires you're tossing around weigh close to a hundred pounds each.”

Wolfe shrugged. Given his peculiar skills and the genetic expertise that had fine-tuned his body, this kind of lifting was child's play. He could probably carry four of the tires without raising a sweat.

Izzy's brow rose. “Can everyone in Foxfire do that?”

Wolfe took vicious delight in his curt answer. “Sorry, Teague. You aren't authorized to have that information at this time.” He slid the tires back into the rack and closed the doors quietly, so he wouldn't wake Kit. When he looked back, the dogs were curled on the floor with their ears up. As usual, they didn't miss a single movement around them.

“They must be giving you some kind of meds to keep you in shape like that. Aminos. Maybe steroids, too.” Izzy stared at him. “Or worse.”

“Not authorized to answer, Teague.”

Izzy looked back at the road, frowning, “Keep an eye on the mix. You saw what happened to Cruz.”

Wolfe had seen all too clearly. He couldn't get the image out of his mind. If the experts at the Foxfire lab were pushing their biology too far too fast, the whole team could end up imploding—pumped up and strung out like Cruz.

Hell if he'd let that happen.

“Duly noted, Teague.”

“If you need outside medical advice, I'm available.”

Not a small thing, Wolfe thought. Izzy would have access to a variety of resources closed to most. “I'll remember that.”

“Good. In the meantime, stay alert. Cruz knows where Kit is now. Our friends in the Hummer leave no doubt about that. Cruz is probably on his way here now.”

“Neither she nor the dogs will be out of my sight from now on,” Wolfe countered tightly.

Izzy pointed to a dramatic timber and adobe house at the top of the hill. It was more home than Wolfe had ever seen, much less spent the night in. “You'll be staying up there.”

“A little rich for my blood.”

“You'll survive.” After passing a dozen custom homes, they pulled into a narrow driveway. Izzy made a thumbs-up gesture to the man in a black uniform who appeared at the side of the van. “Take her inside and keep her safe. I'll contact her friend in Santa Fe so she doesn't start making anxious phone calls to the police.”

Wolfe had forgotten about Miki. But he knew making anxious phone calls would have been only the start of her response, if she thought Kit was in danger. “Kit's going to need dry clothes.”

“Already on it. My people will pick up some clothes and keep tabs on the black Lab at the clinic too. As far as her medical condition, let me see what I can find out.” Izzy's tone didn't hold much hope. “There are always discoveries and new research. Tomorrow everything could change.”

Like hell it could.

Neither said it, but the words hung in the air.

Kit deserved something better than a bleak prognosis of pain. Given all the geniuses connected with Foxfire, Wolfe vowed to find it for her.

 

S
HE WAS AS LIGHT
as the weight of dreams in his arms as he carried her up the steps to the brightly lit house. Her hair drifted over his hands and her skin was cool with a scent of cinnamon. She was no longer a girl, not even close, and what he felt for her was turning dangerous, leaving them both vulnerable.

In spite of that, he savored the moment and all the unfamiliar emotions of close contact with someone other than a stranger on hire to the Foxfire medical staff.

The three dogs tagged close behind, restless and panting as Wolfe strode through the living room. He wanted Kit cleaned up and wearing dry clothes by the time she woke. He wanted…hell, he wanted her, period. In his arms and naked in his bed.

Fool.

Baby brushed against his leg,

“Fog.” Kit moved restlessly. “Men coming.”

Wolfe didn't understand, but he nodded anyway. “There's no fog here, and no men but me. In a few minutes you're going to be in bed, and then you can really sleep.”

“Sleep?” Kit opened her eyes, blinking. “Is this where you live?”

“No, not here.” He pushed open the carved pine door with his foot. “We're just going to use it for a little while.”

“Too bad. I'd really like to see your bed.” She smiled sleepily. “Can I?”

“Sometime.” Wolfe's stomach clenched. He felt a new tension that had nothing to do with lust. How was he going to keep her from getting hurt? Cruz wanted her dogs, and Ryker wanted her as bait. Somehow he would have to protect her from both men.

Maybe even from himself. Lately she seemed to strip right through his defenses.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

She fought his hands. “
Stop.
Where are my dogs?”

“They're here beside us. Right, Baby? And Diesel is doing fine, too. I checked a few minutes ago.”

Kit relaxed when she heard Baby bark. “Probably they're ravenous. Their food—”

“I'll take care of it.”

She curled closer against his chest. “They need a special diet, and I only use the food I make for them.” She yawned. “Out in the Jeep.” Her eyes flashed wide open. “Do I still have a car?”

“Got that covered, too.” Izzy had already arranged for the Jeep to be towed and repaired. He'd also sent someone to Kit's ranch to pick up a week's worth of food for the dogs, along with Kit's training equipment.

“Why weren't you always this nice to me?”

Wolfe's smile faded.
Nice
wasn't his specialty.
Nice
didn't get the job done. For practical reasons, he was weak on niceness skills.

When he looked down, Kit had drifted back to sleep. Relieved, he carried her upstairs to a bedroom filled with Navajo pottery. Leaving her in the middle of the huge bed, he grabbed a wet washcloth and a clean towel from the bathroom, ready to tackle the job of cleaning her up. For some reason, the prospect left him uneasy.

Grimly, he focused on her damp jeans and the mud caked up to her knees from the fall in the canal.

At least he
tried
to focus. Her shirt had a hole in one arm and ground-in mud across her chest. He wasn't about to strip her unless it was absolutely necessary. Touching her any more than he had to seemed like a bad idea.

So she was wet and dirty. He'd start out easy and work from there.

She gave a soft sigh and reached toward him sleepily as he pulled off her wet shoes.

Toward,
not away, he realized. The weight of her trust made him feel even more uncomfortable.

He focused on the hole in her shirt instead of the way her nipples rose to soft points against the damp cotton. He didn't want to see the details revealed by the wet fabric, and he
definitely
wasn't going to think about having sex with her.

Quickly he dried her hair, dropped the towel on the bed and unzipped her jeans. Her skin was cool and smooth as the zipper whispered and denim parted. His mouth went dry when he saw the curve of her stomach with a small half moon tattooed just below her navel.

Suddenly her arms flailed out, swinging at his shoulder. “Hmmh.”

Wolfe realized she was still asleep, but she might not be for long. Moving fast, he lifted her hips and tugged the jeans lower, his eyes narrowing at the sight of slim legs and the wedge of cinnamon hair beneath plain white bikini panties.

Not that he was looking. He wasn't even
thinking
about looking. But a man was a man, damn it. With her underwear soaked, he could see one hell of a lot.

Wolfe forced all images of hot, panting sex out of his mind. He would label this as one of Ryker's training scenarios, nothing more. He'd had women climbing all over him and his control had never slipped before.

Grimly, he finished pulling off Kit's jeans. The contact would not be personal or pleasurable. Her body was irrelevant to him.

Even if his hand slipped twice as he tried to open her bra and it took him three tries to get her shirt unbuttoned.

He muttered a curse. The woman was reducing him to tactical incompetence.

It was time to be tough. He stripped her shirt and tossed it onto the floor. Wielding a towel, he mopped the mud off her arms and bruised legs. He did it all in record time, like a desperate man crossing thin ice. He kept his eyes on her face as he worked off her wet bra and panties, ignoring the brush of her tight nipples against his hands.

Instead of her pale skin, he focused on the newest requisition order he had placed for 15x image stabilizing night vision goggles. He recited the specs and the serial number to keep his mind off the sight of her smooth hips and the dark tangle of hair that goaded his senses.

Kit muttered softly when he pulled the thick duvet around her, but she didn't wake, which was a small mercy. He turned off the light and walked to the door, then slanted one look back into the deeply shadowed room.

Her face was pale, her hands tense on the covers. She murmured something he couldn't make out. Was she dreaming about a vacation? A new car?

A man?

It hit him suddenly that he knew miserably little about the woman Kit had become. He knew about the articles she'd written for two professional search-and-rescue organizations and her growing reputation in canine behaviorist circles. He knew that she'd saved her ranch from tax foreclosure after her parents' sudden death, fighting her way out of debt with back-to-back training assignments. He knew she'd taken high-paying jobs with dogs written off as untrainable. In the process she had replaced choke chains with simple clarity, cages with six-hour exercise sessions outdoors. Her animals ate better, slept better, looked better—and they adored her within days.