Safe Passage (12 page)

The whole scene, right down to the smell of the place, reminded Scott vividly of being a young boy growing up in British Columbia. Of going camping with his dad, stopping off in small rural towns to buy bait and fishing tackle.

The man behind the counter looked up. “Good day, sir. What can I do for you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Scott could see Honey smearing up the store window with her hot breath and cold snout, her tail whapping to and fro.

The man behind the counter looked at him expectantly. But Scott had lost his tongue. For one brief instant he was eleven again, and his black lab Merlin scratched at the window. His dad stood by his side, talking about tying flies and whether the salmon were running.

Scott swallowed, momentarily shaken.

Then he cleared his throat, stepped forward. “Sorry…about the window.”

The man shrugged. “No problem. I got one of ’em at home. A black lab. Hasn’t been able to sit still for the last sixteen years. I’ve given up hope.” His smile was broad and genuine, the twinkle in his eyes real. But to Scott, the man was a ghost from the past. A ghost with a black lab.

He fingered the wood of his cane, straining for a sense of present, reminding himself he was all of thirty-nine years old, a battered agent who hadn’t cast a fly line for almost a decade.

“So what can I do for you?”

Scott looked down at the fly pinched in the vise on the old man’s counter. It was the hackle that caught his eye, made from the ringneck saddle feathers of a pheasant. “That a Carey Special?” he asked the old man.

The man raised thick white brows above pale eyes. “Not many people would recognize that first off. You a keen fly-fisher, then?”

“Haven’t cast a line in a while.”

“Well, you still seem to know a thing or two.” He released the fly from the vise, holding it up for Scott to see. “My version of the Carey Special. They’re what’s happening up at Sweetwater Lake about now. Trout are going wild for ’em. I’m going to give this baby a shot this evening. You should come along.”

“I—”

The door bell jingled. Scott swiveled. Skye stood silhouetted against the bright light of the morning.

Again Scott blinked.

“So this is where you two are,” she said, coming up to join him at the counter. “Can you bring the car around the other end of the mall so I can load the ton of groceries I just bought?”

The old man chuckled, winked at Scott. “Missus is callin’.”

“She’s not my—” He bit back his words. The man had shaken him. He didn’t have to justify himself, his relationship with Skye to anyone. He straightened his spine and pulled the frayed edges of his memories into check. But he couldn’t quite seem to stuff them all back into the box.

Then he felt her cool hand on his arm. “You okay, Scott? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing.” He pulled out from under her touch, handed her the keys. “Here, you take the car ’round. I’ll be right out.”

She studied him with her pewter eyes, reading something. “Sure,” she said gently. “Take your time.”

He waited for the tinkle of the bell as the door swung shut behind her, then turned his attention back to the storekeeper. “I’ll take a couple of those Careys. And one of those rods and line and one of these reels.” He pointed them out as he spoke.

“Starter kit?”

“More of a restarter kit, I guess.”

The man took a rod from the rack. “So what kept you from the fishing for so long?”

Scott hesitated. How could he tell the old man that shunning the sport that had been so much a part of his youth, part of his dad, part of Leni, the sport that had once given them all so much pleasure, was just a lame attempt at burying the past? “I’ve been busy. Working.”

“Well, this should set you right.” He rang up Scott’s purchase. “It’s always good to see someone get back to old pleasures.”

“Thanks.” Scott signed the slip, then tucked his card back into his wallet. “Nice place you got here. It looks old school. Doesn’t quite fit with the shiny-new-mall image.”

The man gave a wry smile. “I used to be down by the water. Then they redeveloped the strip and the high rents squeezed old-timers like myself out.” He gestured around the store with a wrinkled hand. “This is my love, but I don’t turn over enough stock to pay the big bucks they were demanding. Had to move out here.”

“Well, you’ve brought the old world to the new. You’ve done a good job.”

The old man was quiet for a second. Scott felt as though his eyes were seeing straight into him, right through his alias to the naked boy inside. It was unnerving. Then the man spoke. “You’ve got to try to take the past with you into the future, you know. That’s my philosophy. You stay true to yourself that way.” He handed Scott his purchases. “You get lost otherwise. Can take a long time to find that road back home.”

Scott stepped out of the store, blinked into the bright sun. He felt a little nauseous. He’d been right. This was turning into a trip down memory lane. He’d known it would be the minute Skye had blurted out the word “Zeballos.”

She was physically forcing him down that old road and mentally beyond the memory of his wife. She was making him face himself.

His hand tightened on the bags that held his purchases. He gritted his teeth, limped toward the car.

Fishing gear and food supplies safely loaded into the car, the threesome headed north out of Campbell River as the sun rose in the sky and the warm spring day invited open windows.

Scott hadn’t said a word since they’d left the fly-fishing store. Skye figured something back there, in that dim shop, had rattled him. It made her even more curious about him. Because Scott McIntyre struck her as a man not easily shaken by much in life. And the scientist in her couldn’t let a curiosity pass without poking at it, without hypothesizing.

She finally let her interest get the better of her. “So what was that about?”

“What?”

“Back there in that store. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

He said nothing. Just stared ahead at the road. She watched the small muscle at the base of his jaw pulse.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.” She should have known better. He’d thrown up new walls since he’d mentioned his wife and child.

He shot her a quick glance. “No. It’s okay. That old-timer, he just took me on an unexpected trip down memory lane. That’s all.”

“Not a happy trip?”

“Made me think of my dad.”

“Is he deceased?”

“Lord, no. I just haven’t seen my parents for a while. Lost contact.”

She smiled. “It’s guilt that’s eating you, then, McIntyre.”

He clenched his teeth, said nothing. She realized she’d angered him.

He turned suddenly on her, his words brusque. “What about you? What about your parents, Skye?”

“I—I don’t have any parents.” It was close enough to the truth. “They died when I was really young.”

“Where?”

Dammit, she didn’t want to go there. He’d turned the tables on her. She should have anticipated it, kept her mouth shut. She hesitated. “In Amsterdam. I’m from Holland. I immigrated to Canada when I was twenty-two.”

He nodded. “That would explain that hint of an accent you have. I was wondering what it was. You still speak Dutch?”

“I don’t have an accent,” she snapped. She’d worked hard on erasing it, assimilating.

He raised his brows, said nothing. She felt suddenly wary again.

“Well, do you? Can you still speak Dutch?”

“Of course I can.” Dutch was only one of the five languages she was fluent in. Her education at the camp had prepared her for deployment into several countries.

“You speak any other languages?”

“No.”

He raised a brow. “I thought most Dutch kids learned several languages at school.”

She hesitated. “Well, I—I have a smattering here and there.”

“Is Greek one of them?”

Her heart tripped, thumped rapidly against her chest. Her mouth went dry.

Why is he doing this?

Chapter 11

“N
o,” she said as flippantly as she could. “I don’t speak Greek.”

“You were speaking in your sleep last night. Sounded like Greek.”

The blood drained from her head. She turned quickly away so he wouldn’t catch her reaction. And she cursed herself. She was slipping. It must be the tension of the last few days getting her. Or the man.

She took a deep breath, swiveled in her seat, faced him square. “You were mistaken. I don’t speak Greek. Maybe what you heard was Italian. I speak a little Italian,” she offered.

“Sounded Greek.”

“What makes you so damned sure of yourself?” she snapped.

His eyes pierced hers. “No need to get snippy, Doctor. I speak Greek myself. I know what it sounds like.”

Damn. She’d just dug herself a hole. Tension seeped into her stomach. Neither spoke again until they reached the small town of Woss, the last stop on their road into the wilderness.

But the issue hung heavy and unresolved in the air between them.

“This is where we get more gas. I’d better check oil and tires, as well.” Scott pulled into a gas station. “Could you give Honey a run while I see to the vehicle? I bought her a ball at the mall, it’s in the back.”

“Sure.” Skye felt as though she needed a run herself. But it was a knee-jerk reaction. She knew that. Every time it looked as if her secret world was closing in on itself, she ran. She’d promised herself in Chemainus that would stop. That she would trust Scott. But the closer he came to her core, the greater her urge to flee. And to stay.

God, she was a mess.

She took the dog and the ball, made for the small park across the street.

Scott filled the car, checked oil and tires, paid for his purchases, then pulled into a parking lot alongside the pumps. He could see Skye and Honey playing ball in the distance. He activated the code on his sat phone, quickly punched in Rex’s number. He didn’t have much time before she’d be back.

The Bellona boss was waiting for his call. Rex picked up on the first ring. Scott cut to the chase. “You meet with our RCMP guy?”

“Yeah. Your tail, it’s not them. Feds lost you in Haven.”

Scott grunted. “Thought as much. Then who the hell is after her?”

“You get a plate?”

Scott gave him the number of the dark green Dodge.

“I’ll check into it.” There was a new undertone in Rex Logan’s voice.

Scott didn’t like it. “So what
is
the deal with the RCMP? What do they want from Skye?”

His boss hesitated. “Agent, this is blowing right open. You need to bring the doctor in.”

Something cold dropped through Scott’s gut. “Whoa, wait just a minute. Why don’t you fill me in, let me make that decision.”

Rex cleared his throat but his tone remained crisp. “Jozsef Danko is not Jozsef Danko.”

“What?”

“Our liaison said the RCMP were investigating him for a money-laundering deal connected with an organized crime syndicate out of Quebec. But the RCMP detectives ran into a bit of a turf issue in Quebec because Canada’s Security Intelligence Service was already investigating the syndicate for having possible financial ties to a terrorist organization.”

“Anubis?”

“You got it. It turns out one of the men CSIS has been watching for in connection with this syndicate is—”

“Danko.”

“That’s his cover. His real name is Balto Nakiskas. He’s a Greek national. And he’s a known Anubis operative.”

Scott’s stomach tightened. “Skye’s fiancé was a known terrorist?”

“You’ve got to bring the doctor in, Scott. She’s wanted for questioning by just about every agency you can imagine now. RCMP, CSIS and FBI just for starters.
Especially
after they learned of the Bellona angle.”

Scott’s mouth went as dry as the Thar desert. He glanced up, saw Skye in the park across the street. He watched her throw the ball for Honey. She moved with the tensile strength, fluidity and grace of a dancer…or a martial arts expert.

She sensed him watching. She stopped, looked up, waved. He waved back, a sick, slow dread crawling low through his gut. She smiled and with a flick of her long hair, picked up the ball, threw it for Honey. The retriever bounded after it in innocent glee.

Scott’s brain reeled. A Greek Anubis operative marrying Skye. Her Anubis tattoo. The insects. Her travels.

“Agent, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“We need you to bring Dr. Van Rijn in ASAP.”

He stalled. “
How
do they think she’s connected?”

“They believe she’s working with Nakiskas.”

No. Scott rubbed his brow viciously.
No.
He could
not
believe Skye knew Jozsef was a fake. No way. Her pain had been too honest, too real.

He thought of her Greek mumblings in her sleep.

Or had it?

“They find anything in her house to prove it?” He barked the question.

“No. But they did seize her computer. Turns out it’s been accessed remotely for some time. Her system was linked to the Kepplar lab system. There’s been an information security breach there, as well.”

“So they think she’s been feeding Kepplar technology to someone?”

“Maybe. Or it could be a hacker. I’ve got Scooter working on it. He’s following a highly sophisticated electronic trail. The electronic footprints are leading him around the world, being routed and rerouted again. And whoever has had access to her computer has been hitting your McIntyre alias Web site.”

“How do you know?”

“Same footprints.”

Skye and Honey were leaving the park, starting to cross the street. Scott’s fingers curled tight around his sat phone. He felt sick to his stomach. Had she been scamming him all along? Was this wedding thing some kind of elaborate setup? And if it wasn’t the cops or CSIS or the FBI tailing them in Duncan…who in hell was it?

And why?

It just wasn’t adding up.

And he sure as hell wasn’t ready to hand her over. Yet.

“You bringing her in, Agent?”

He cleared his throat. “No.”

“Pardon?”

“I said no. Buy me some time. Tell them anything. I can get more out of her this way.” He wanted her to tell him herself. He wanted to hear the story from her lips. Because he couldn’t believe she was a coldhearted liar. A liar, yes, but coldhearted, no. There had to be some reason, some explanation, something they weren’t seeing. Because his deep-down, primal gut instinct told him this woman was too kind, too inherently good.

He trusted his instincts.

Whatever Skye had gotten herself into, it wasn’t this. But he couldn’t deny the stakes had just been raised.

High.

Real high.

“Agent—”

“I’m getting close to her, Logan. You’ve got to trust me on this one.”

“
How
close, Armstrong?”

Scott read the loaded meaning in Rex Logan’s words. “Logan, trust me. I’ve never let you down before.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” He sounded unsure. “I’ll see what I can do. I might be able to buy you a day or so. No more.”

“Thanks.” He hung up. He knew Rex was going out on a limb here. And, so was he.

Was he throwing away a last shot at getting his old life back? Maybe he
had
fried his brain in the desert sands.

Scott slowly slid his phone into his pocket, watched Skye cross the street, her hand hooked into Honey’s collar. She looked as supple and strong as a tall willow branch. Sunshine deflected off the dark gloss of her hair, revealing deep burgundy glints.

He rubbed his aching knee, the knee Anubis rebels had blown out. Could he be wrong about her? Could she be allied, however remotely, to his nemesis, La Sombra?

She came close enough for him to see the bright light of innocent exhilaration in her eyes, the blush of exercise on her cheeks.

Adrenaline, anger and something utterly foreign, spiked in his system, clashed. The cocktail exploded violently in his veins.

He flung open the SUV door, stepped out, swallowed the bolt of pain in his knee, took two strides toward her.

She looked up into his eyes, froze.

He grabbed her shoulders, pulled her aggressively to him. Her lips parted in shock.

He closed his mouth down hard over hers, thrust his tongue between her lips, ran it across the smooth ridge of her teeth, met the slick warmth of her tongue.

She tasted sinfully sweet. Wild. And so female. So alive.

Hot liquid lust spurted through his belly, boiled with anger. Anger at Anubis. At her. For making him feel. At Bellona…the whole bloody world.

He furiously deepened his kiss.

She didn’t resist.

He slid his hand down to the small of her back, grasped the firm globe of her behind, yanked her closer, forcing her breasts hard up against his chest, her pelvis up against his groin.

She melted smoothly into him, met his urgency with her mouth. Her own appetite for him drove him near wild.

He
needed
her to be innocent, goddammit.

Because otherwise he had to destroy her. He had to take her down to make his life whole again.

He felt her smooth hand against his cheek, guiding his kiss. His heart pounded hard up against the full, feminine warmth of her breasts. He drank in the scent of her hair, felt the silk of it against his face.

He pulled her pelvis up higher against his thigh. If he didn’t stop now—

He jerked back.

Shock, untamed passion, swam through her exotic features. She stared up at him, unfocused eyes as wild and lucid as a silver dawn sky, lips plumped, pink, from the rough force of his kiss.

He held her at arm’s length, a hand planted solid on each shoulder, just looked at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Scott?” Confusion furrowed her brow.

“Come.” He slid his arm around her shoulders, ushered her to the car. “Let’s get you out of harm’s way.”

He fired the ignition, set course for the hills.

And he told himself whatever she was hiding, he’d find it. Because now this was personal.

And if she was an innocent victim, a pawn caught in deadly international crossfire, he needed to protect her.

With his life.

And if she was playing him as a pawn, he had to be prepared to take her life.

Before she took his.

Skye moistened her lips. She felt as though a million microscopic bees were buzzing confusedly through her system. A swarm dislodged from a safe hive by a searing hot jab clean through to her core.

It was cousin to panic, but not quite.

Jittery. She felt jittery. But not quite.

She sucked air deep into her lungs, blew it out slowly. She didn’t even want to compute how she felt. The volcanic potency of his kiss had left her plain shell-shocked. It had been so proprietary, so male, so dominant…so sudden. It had exploded from somewhere down deep within him like an ancient long-buried force that could no longer be held in check under a shifting surface.

The sheer power of it awed her.

Because it had totally undone her in the most elemental way. She knew if ever confronted with that power again, she would be utterly defenseless in the face of it.

She stole a glance at the man beside her.

What had happened?

What had changed in him?

He seemed imbued with an electric power, determination. It literally vibrated around him. She could feel the crackling silent force of it against the surface of her skin.

Yet his limbs were relaxed, his movements calm, incredibly controlled as he steered their vehicle higher and higher into the mountains, into the wild.

He sensed her looking, flashed his eyes toward her.

Her breath caught. She could not only feel it, she could see it. In those bottle-green eyes, a fierce intensity crackled like sparking flame.

And it ignited the cocktail of panic and sharp, heady anticipation already simmering in her core.

Again she tried to moisten her lips. Her mouth was dry.

She’d felt something like this once before.

In the training camp.

The first time she’d had to leap from the open door of a plane.

Her greatest fear had been that her chute would fail her.

But the parachute had always opened. And the experience had always been beyond words.

But she’d had to make that first jump. She’d had to trust that chute to open.

Skye forced her attention back to the map on her lap.

They were nearing the turnoff to Henderson’s place. It was easy to miss. It had no signage. It was just an old, deactivated logging road that would take them the last couple of miles to the isolated cabin.

But as they climbed higher into the mountains, thick dank mist rolled down to engulf them. The drizzle that had started an hour ago turned to hard, spitting sleet.

Skye peered through the windshield, seeking a familiar landmark. But up ahead, the air was even darker, the clouds lower, swollen and puce with their burden. It was impossible to identify anything.

The temperature dropped steadily as they gained elevation. She shivered involuntarily.

“How are we doing?” Scott motioned with his jaw to the map in her hands.

“The road should be just ahead now.”

A sharp crack split the air.

Honey and Skye convulsed in unison.

Thunder rumbled around them. The dog whimpered slightly in the back seat.

“I love a good storm. Makes me feel alive.” His voice growled low like the thunder. “What about you, Doctor? You like a good storm?”

“I…I’ve gotten used to the tameness of the weather around Haven.”

“Monotonous, predictable.”

“Maybe. But safe.”

A bolt of light slashed through the blackness ahead of them. Clouds clashed. Snarled. Skye’s heart hit like a jackhammer against her rib cage. She rubbed damp palms on her jeans. With every mile into the wilderness, she felt even edgier.

He threw her a look, challenged with his eyes. “Is that what you want, Doctor? Safe?”

“Yeah. Right now I want safe.”

The expression on his face changed slightly. “You really do believe these people want to kill you.”