Flirting with Danger (3 page)

“Then we’re both dead anyway. But I’m not wrong. When they realise they have us all pinned they will use heavier weaponry. You have to go, right now!”

Trust your instincts, her father’s voice reverberated in her mind. Every nerve and brain cell inside her insisted she run now, that her window of opportunity was closing. Knowing it could be the last decision she ever made, Skye took a deep breath. She pressed her lips together in a vain attempt to stop them trembling and pushed herself upright into the fastest sprint she had ever managed.

A hail of bullets rang out.

Skye dimly heard Katherine and Tarek both shout across the dining room, but the words were lost in the clamour of sound. Garth yelled what sounded like a war cry as he returned fire like a man possessed.

In seconds, Skye had cleared what used to be the glass windows. Ducking and weaving around the neighbouring cafe’s tables and chairs, she half crouched in an attempt to make herself as difficult a target as possible. Panting hard, she tripped and stumbled.

Knees and palms scraped raw, Skye didn’t feel a thing with the level of adrenaline coursing through her body. A frantic glance over the street showed a nearly empty diorama, the gunshots and alarms having cleared the road. Cars stood idling, their windscreens cracked and broken, doors left open as people had abandoned everything and scrambled away.

Crouching behind a large barrier that was meant to protect those enjoying the cafe’s food from the pedestrians, Skye found her eye drawn to an alley opening. A small delivery driveway opposite the street facing the restaurant held four men. Her gaze was caught on them simply because they were the only other people visible.

Each of the men wore black camouflage trousers and black T-shirts. Two of them crouched and continued to shoot out many of the car windows and other storefronts. To her untrained eye it looked like they were not aiming for any person or thing in particular, more like just wanting to cause damage and make a lot of noise, perhaps to pin everyone in the restaurant. As she watched, a long metal cylinder was brought out of the shadows of the alley’s mouth and lifted on to the shoulder of one of the men in front. In the back corner of her mind she recognised the weapon, but it took a moment to piece together what was occurring before her eyes.

“Oh no,” she whispered. The very real danger didn’t even cross her mind. She turned back around and tried to shout loudly enough to be heard.

“Garth!” she screamed. “Get out of there, right now!”

Skye caught a faint glimpse of Garth’s head popping up from the overturned table. She pointed to the alley, but she feared it was too late. The cylindrical cannon-like object rested on one man’s shoulder, braced by a second man. The third stood guard as the final man slotted a large rocket into the hold.

“It’s a rocket launcher,” Garth shouted, terror etched into his face. “Get the hell out of here!”

In the split second before she turned and fled, Skye saw Garth stand, screaming at the others behind him as he waved his hand and headed for the back exit. Having no real understanding of the kind of damage a rocket launcher could do to a simple city street, Skye felt as if a million hellhounds from the fiery depths of the underground were nipping at her feet.

She ran harder than she could ever recall having run in her whole life.

The loudest boom split the air behind her. The deep sound filled the street, the very stone under her feet shaking and rumbling as the world shook.

Car alarms sounded, people screamed and the sound of breaking bricks, mortar and glass filled Skye’s head until a painful ringing blocked her capacity to hear more. Everything seemed to disintegrate around her, her lungs burned with the need for oxygen and still she ran faster and further down the street.

Curious despite herself, Skye looked back over her shoulder. A smoking crater remained where the shopfront had once been.

Pieces of masonry rained down over her. As the smoke began to clear she could see an enormous, gaping hole where the building had been a moment ago. The walls on either side of the restaurant appeared chipped as bricks continued to fall into a pile of rubble on the ground.

Chaos reigned.

Fearful that her world had suddenly and irreversibly turned on its head, Skye continued to run as if chased by her every nightmare.

Chapter Two

It was almost a mile later that the sting in her palms, knees and a strong burning in her lungs finally let Skye know she had to stop. Looking around, she hurried to a nearby railway station. Making a beeline for the ladies’ room, she grabbed a handful of paper towels and locked herself into a cubicle to try to get a hold of her savaged emotions.

Gasping in deep breaths, tears squeezed out of her eyes as her brain tried to assimilate everything that had just occurred.

“Oh, Daddy, what the holy hell have you fallen into? What just happened?” she whispered as she caught her breath. Mopping at her face, Skye tried to still the trembling in her hands.

Realising that if any of those four men had chased after her she’d be thoroughly trapped, Skye felt panic rising in her chest. Sniffing and pulling herself together, she left the cubicle and checked each empty stall, relieved to find no one present. She ignored how paranoid she felt doing such a thing.

Walking to a basin, she ran the cold water, splashed her face and stared at her reflection for a moment. Her curls corkscrewed in every direction, her blue eyes looked wide and wild, and her face appeared pale, but otherwise she looked normal. The image in the mirror was completely at odds with the thrumming of her blood and the unsteady beating of her heart.

Skye tried to think of what she could do. She couldn’t return to the smoking hole that used to be the Thai restaurant. Neither did she want to go in to the Agency. Katherine and Tarek had obviously been suspicious of something in relation to Garth, and the dark-haired man had himself always seemed a little too far on the edge of respectability for her to be completely comfortable with him.

While Skye had good friends she knew and trusted, she couldn’t bring this—whatever it was—to their doors. It wouldn’t be right, and any trouble she brought with her would be her responsibility.

Lost and alone, Skye trembled as she wished she could turn to her father right now. Ironically, at the most important time in her life, when she wanted to be able to rely on him, it was he who needed her, who only had her to support him.

He needed her. She was probably his only hope.

She had to stop.

To think.

Her dad placed a business card down on the table between them.

“I met the most interesting man the other day, sweetheart. Jack Berwick. He’s a private investigator, but savvy and smart enough to impress me. I tried to bring him in to the Agency. Sadly, much like you, sweetheart, he refused to join. I get the feeling he likes working on his own too much. If you should ever find yourself in a bind, and for whatever reason I’m not around to assist you, call him. He owes me a few favours and knows if you ever call he can repay them by doing anything you need and keeping you safe. I was quite clear about that with him.”

Skye laughed, certain her father was teasing her in his dry manner. Victor stared calmly at her, his expression unwavering and with no twinkle in his eye or tilt of a smile on his lips.

She sobered. “You’re serious?”

“Certainly,” he insisted. “I’m not ignorant. I know I can’t always be here for you. You know I always have a backup plan. Well, sweetheart, this is one of my contingencies for you. If ever you are in trouble and have need and I am unable to be there, call Jack. Swear it to me.”

She had sworn, caught somewhere between amusement and a warm love that her father thought of such things and wanted to always protect her. Many times since then she had cleaned out her wallet, or moved her cards and money into a new purse. Jack Berwick’s business card would again be unearthed amongst a fistful of others she had collected over time.

Recalling her oath to her father, she always kept the business card, replacing it in her new wallet and promptly forgetting it all over again. With shaking fingers, she dug into her bag, grateful for that natural instinct of a woman to always keep it close even when her brain was filled with other, far more terrifying things.

“Come on, come on,” she chanted as she sorted through dozens of business cards. How did the things manage to breed on her like this? Surely she’d cleaned out her wallet just a few weeks ago?

Finally the dog-eared, worn card turned up near the bottom of the pile. Placing it between her teeth, she shoved all the other cards and receipts back into her wallet, replaced the leather item into her handbag and pulled her phone out again. The screen was blank. Mumbling a curse around the card, Skye tried to turn her phone off and then back on again.

‘No Reception’, the screen flashed at her.

“Damn it,” she swore. Shouldering her bag once again, phone in one hand and the business card in the other, Skye made her way out of the ladies’ and then back out on to the street.

Skye stood out of the way of the foot traffic near the corner of a shop. The trembling of her fingers had almost stopped as she pressed in the mobile phone number written on Jack’s card. A dozen thoughts flashed across her mind as she tried to focus on the number and hit the right keys on the keypad.

Had her father really been kidnapped over something he’d done or found on his last mission? He’d insisted it was personal, though, something he only trusted himself to do and couldn’t leave to the Agency. Was he being interrogated? Tortured? Skye wondered if her imagination was getting the better of her or whether she’d simply watched too many Bond movies and thrillers.

Feeling nauseous, Skye forced her brain to close down on that train of thought. She couldn’t lose control just yet—she then wouldn’t be of any use to him. The phone rang and still Skye struggled to stop thinking.

Why had Agency people come after Garth? Was he suspected of being a party to her father’s problems? Were the questions they wanted to ask him routine? Skye didn’t think Garth would turn traitor, but there had always been that ‘stay away’ sign keeping a gulf between them.

“Yes?” a deep, masculine voice answered the phone, capturing Skye’s attention.

“I’m calling for Mr Berwick, please,” she replied with a faint tremble in her tone. She hoped the number was correct and still active. “My name is Skye Adams and I’ve been given this number to reach him.”

“This is Berwick,” the voice answered. Despite the smoothness of his tone, Skye could sense a trace of curiosity lurking beneath the lilt of his accent. She decided to go for broke.

“We’ve never met, so you don’t know me, but my father gave me your business card in case I ever needed some investigative assistance. I’m not sure how busy you are but I was hoping you could spare some time in the next day or so. I really don’t know where else to turn—”

Her voice cut off on a hitch and Skye took a slow, deep breath to calm herself. Even to her own ears she could hear the pitch of her tone rising with anxiety. Jack didn’t let the pause grow, not seeming to want or need to let her try to explain again.

“Victor spoke to me of you, at great length, actually,” Jack said. “I know exactly who you are and I can make time right now if you need. We shouldn’t discuss this over the phone, though. I’m not at my flat right now, but I can be there in fifteen minutes on my bike. I assume you’re in London?”

The assured manner with which Jack took charge told Skye a lot about this man. Her father trusted him, which was all she needed to know—Victor was an excellent judge of character. And the similarities between the two men that she could sense from the manner in which he spoke helped calm her.

“Yes,” she replied. Her tone was steady now, with only an underlying current of panic. Skye told him the street name and station she had come from. In a quick, terse style Jack told her how to reach his flat and gave her the address.

“Okay,” she said, under control once more. “I’ll meet you there.”

“It’ll be all right, Skye,” Jack said with surprising warmth. For the first time since she’d arrived at the Thai restaurant she smiled, even though the man on the other end of the line couldn’t see her. “Whatever has brought you to my door, I can make it right. Don’t panic, I’m sure I’ve faced much worse.”

“Thanks, Jack. I’m glad now that my father gave me your card. He always has contingency plans—after this I might have to stop teasing him about paranoia.”

That got a chuckle from the other end and Skye felt some of the tension ease out of her. The world still felt like a crazy, dangerous, illogical place, but she no longer felt alone.

“I’ll see you soon,” Jack muttered gruffly. Skye spoke her goodbyes. Closing the phone she replaced it in her bag and returned to the station to catch the train.

Twenty minutes later, jittery once again after being alone with her thoughts circulating around in her brain, she pressed the unmarked buzzer for the flat Jack had given her directions to. A large chrome and black leather motorbike leaned against the wall to the side of the building, looking both menacing and tempting.

“Yes?” the same voice greeted her. A small section of the knot filling her belly loosened as she knew she’d found his place.

“Jack? It’s Skye.”

The pressurised whoosh of the door being released sounded and Skye leaned in to grab and open it. Jogging up the stairs, she glanced at the numbers until she found Jack’s. Lifting her hand to knock, the door opened before she could rap. Six feet two of athletic, muscled man rested against the frame. Skye felt her heart race within the confines of her chest. Blood pounded in her ears and she had to consciously close her mouth.

Blond hair clipped close on the sides had been left slightly spiky on top. Piercing blue eyes met hers with an electric, almost neon intensity. For a moment they each stared at the another. Skye struggled to not swallow her tongue.