Safe Passage (8 page)

Scott was silent for a second. He cleared his throat. “Where is this ex-boyfriend of yours now?”

“Don’t know. The last I knew he’d gone into hiding.”

“When was this?”

“It was years ago. I was young. Very young. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

He tapped his hand on the wheel, thinking. “How young?”

“Nineteen. Please…can we go now?”

His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Here they come…hang on to Honey!” He shifted gears, floored the gas. She grabbed the dog, the momentum kicking them both back, her head cracking against the rear cab window. Skye screwed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look. She felt suddenly exhausted. The pain in the back of her head thumped along with the panicked rhythm of her heart.

She’d told him too much. In her desperation she’d skirted too close to the truth. Her world was closing in on her and she had no clue why. She clung to Honey with both arms, taking comfort from the dog.

And she said a silent prayer in her mother tongue as the truck ripped through the farm fields.

Chapter 7

T
he sunny morning gave way to an afternoon with heavily bruised skies and spitting rain. Scott clicked on the windshield wipers and cranked up the heat in the cab. He cast a glance Skye’s way. She was still asleep. Honey, too, her head resting on Skye’s lap. His eyes flicked up to Skye’s face. The strong and wary woman was gone. Sleep had stolen her defences. She looked, instead, like an innocent child cuddled up with her pet.

She looked as vulnerable as the night he’d held her in his arms. The thick fringe of her dark lashes stark against the paleness of her skin. Her lips parted slightly, her breaths soft and regular.

Why are you running, Doctor?

He’d find out sooner or later.

He turned his attention back to the road. He’d shaken the tail, left the two cops good and stuck in the freshly ploughed earth of a farmer’s strawberry field.

Scott turned down another narrow farm road. He was making his way south down the Saanich Peninsula, using a network of tiny backroads. Skye had said she wanted to go north. But to do that, he first had to cut back around the Saanich Inlet. He’d wake her for further directions when they reached the Malahat pass.

The highway started to climb up the Malahat. Thick mist closed in a shroud around them. Scott frowned. With temperatures like this there was a real threat of snow in higher elevations. He wondered just where in the mountains the doctor wanted to go.

But he had her right where he wanted, under his watch 24/7.

Sleet started to click and spit against the window as they reached the summit of the Malahat, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her yet. He decided to wait until they reached Duncan. They’d stop to refuel and he’d touch base with Rex from there.

He checked his rearview mirror. Good. Still no sign of the brown sedan. He started the descent.

And as he did, he had an odd sense the two of them had just entered uncharted territory.

“The GPS alarm has sounded.”

Every muscle in his body strapped tight. “She has crossed out of bounds?”

His assistant nodded.

He seated himself in front of the terminal and stared at the tiny red dot blinking on the screen. The tracking device showed she had indeed strayed out of the boundary they’d set. She was out over the Malahat, headed north.

Why?

“Alert our operatives to the coordinates. I want to know the instant they have a visual.”

Skye jolted out of her sleep, out of her dream, panic tearing at her jugular like the rancid yellow teeth of a jackal. Disoriented, her hand flew to her throat. She frantically scanned her surroundings. And breathed deep. She
wasn’t
in the dry hills of Greece. She
wasn’t
buckled over in searing pain, running for the Albanian border.

She was with Scott McIntyre, in his truck, with his dog, surrounded by soft gray mist and gentle rain. But they
were
on the run. She sat bolt upright, eyes wide. They were entering some town. “Where are we?” she demanded.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.”

“Where the hell are we?”

“Yeah, you’re back all right. We’re entering Duncan.”

“Oh, God, I should’ve gone back to the lab. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I beg your pardon? I thought you were running for your life back there.”

“My project.” She rummaged in her pocket, pulled out her cell phone. “I’ve got to make a call.”

“What project? Your assassin bugs?”

She ignored him and punched in Charly’s number. It rang. And rang. No answer at Charly’s Kepplar extension. Skye killed the call, dialed Charly’s cell number. “Pick up girl. Pick up, Charly. Where the hell are you?”

Nothing.

“Damn.” She quickly punched in Charly’s home number.

The call clicked over to the voice mail service. “Charly, it’s me, Skye. Do
not
let Marshall release those beetles. I repeat, cancel the release. We need further trials. Call me as soon as you get this message. It’s urgent.”

She flipped her phone shut. Where in hell was her assistant? She should be at work now. And she always carried her cell when she wasn’t at home.

“What is it, Skye? What’s wrong with your bugs?”

Her eyes jerked up to Scott’s face. The real concern she saw there threw her momentarily. “The control group samples don’t look right. I need time to check them properly. And I need to check the adults being prepared for shipment. We can’t risk releasing them. Not yet.”

“Where is the release scheduled for?”

She gave a soft derisive laugh. “In greenhouses and fields across most of central Canada. The first shipment is due to fly out in two weeks. The West will be next.”

Scott whistled through his teeth. “This is for the whitefly epidemic, right? I read about it in the paper.”

She frowned at his piqued interest, studied his features carefully before answering. “Yes, that’s the one. I designed a bug to target the mutant whitefly. We used gene technology to adapt a subspecies of the black Asian beetle. The ones we release will be sterile so they’ll only last one life cycle.”

“That’ll keep them pretty much restricted to a target area?”

“Basically. But Kepplar is rushing it. Marshall Kane, the director, is impatient. He smells a huge contract from the States if this works as well as I thought it would.”

“Now you think it won’t?”

“Every indication was there that it should be hugely successful. But I would’ve liked more time. More trials. Just to be one hundred percent sure. Now, it looks like I was right. There are some subtle anomalies appearing. I detected them this morning. I need to research further—they could mean trouble.”

“You want to go back?”

The images from the chase this morning slammed through her brain. And a sinking realization flowed like lead to the pit of her stomach. She might never go back. She might have to disappear again. Forever. If she wanted to live. “I—I can’t go back.”

“Those men?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I can help, Skye. Maybe we can contact the police—”

“No!”

“No police?”

“Cops couldn’t help me before. There’s no reason they’ll be able to now. Those men will kill me.”

His eyes flicked to her face. “You’re serious.”

“Scott, I can’t go back.” She’d be no use dead anyway. She rubbed at the grit in her eyes. Dr. Skye Van Rijn would have to cease to exist. She could see no other way. But even so, she had a duty to stop those beetles. She had no choice but to call Marshall. Reluctantly she opened her phone and slowly keyed in the number for the director of Kepplar Biological Control Systems.

“Marshall Kane here.”

She swallowed. “Marshall, this is Skye.”

“Where the hell are you? There was a security breach at the labs this morning.”

“I—I heard.”

“And Charly hasn’t shown up for work, either. What in blazes is going on, Doctor?”

“I—I’m going to be away from work for a while. I— I’m pretty cut up about the wedding. I need some time.”

“I’m sorry about the wedding. I heard. But Charly—”

“I’m sure she’ll be in soon.” Skye sucked in her breath. “Marshall…the project cannot proceed.”

“Nonsense. We can manage without you.”

“Marshall—”

“You look after yourself. We’ll be fine. The bulk of your work is complete. I’ve seen your latest report.”

“No, Marshall. Under
no
circumstances can it proceed. There are anomalies showing up in the control group. It could be dangerous. We need more research. More time.” But she knew now she was clean out of time.

Marshall was silent.

“You’ve
got
to listen to me, Marshall.”

The director cleared his throat. “Dr. Van Rijn, with all due respect, as head of Kepplar, this is my decision. I’ll liaise with Charly when she gets in. Thank you for your input. And we’ll see you when you get back.”

He hung up before she could utter another word.

“Damn.” Skye slumped back in her seat. She’d have to count on Charly. But where the hell was she?

Skye could feel the heat of Scott McIntyre’s scrutiny. But to his credit, he said nothing. And she sure as hell didn’t feel like talking.

They entered the town of Duncan, lunch hour traffic pressing at their sides. Pain pressed at her head. Scott pulled into a gas station, cut the engine.

“Okay, Doctor, we stop here for gas, food, maps. Why don’t you wait for me and Honey in that diner next door while I fill up? Order me a coffee, will you?”

Skye reached for her pack, opened the truck door, swung her leg out. Then hesitated. She realized in that instant just how much control she’d placed in Scott McIntyre’s large and capable hands this morning. She’d trusted him enough to fall asleep in his truck. She’d relaxed enough to drop her defences, let years of fatigue claim her. And she’d trusted him to get rid of their tail, keep her safe, while she slept.

It was a sensation utterly new to her. But it was a mistake. One that could prove fatal. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down like this. She had to get to Henderson’s cabin alone. Once she was there she could figure out how to disappear. And she couldn’t take anyone along for the ride. She had to cut all ties. Once again, she had to start cold, make the journey into this next phase of her life alone.

Or Malik would find her again.

She had little doubt that it was his men who’d come for her this morning. She’d been expecting this for the last thirteen years. But she still hadn’t been ready for it.

“Problem, Doc?”

She jerked back to the present, looked up into Scott’s questioning eyes. Caring eyes. The vulnerable child long buried within Skye’s psyche wanted to drown herself in those deep green eyes of his, to place her life in those warm, rough hands. This time a part of her really didn’t want to run away. She bit her bottom lip. Scott McIntyre was like a thread, holding her back as he was helping her flee.

Then she remembered the knife strapped to his ankle.

She set her jaw. She wasn’t a child. Never had been. She hadn’t been allowed such luxury. She’d used this man. He’d gotten her this far, but now it was time to split. She had no more use for Scott McIntyre.

“You okay, Skye?”

“Yeah. Fine. I’ll go get that coffee.”

Determined, she slung her pack across her shoulder, strode over to the diner, shoved the door open and surveyed the establishment. The restaurant part of the business lay to her right. To her left was a general-purpose store complete with maps, candy, soda and anything else a tourist might need. There were phones and washrooms to the rear. The diner was busy, the store empty. She had to make her getaway while she had the chance.

She moved quickly over to the map rack, selected one that covered the northern part of Vancouver Island, headed over to the counter. The male cashier rang up her purchase.

Skye handed over cash. “Can you tell me where I can rent a vehicle? I need something with four-wheel drive capability.”

“A four-by-four, huh?”

“Yes.” She shifted, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She didn’t want to call any more attention to herself than was necessary.

“Don’t know if Barney’s has SUVs. Hang on, I’ll look up his number, give him a call.” The man reached under the counter for a phone book, started flipping through pages.

Skye turned to look out the windows that ran the length of the diner.

And froze.

Parked across the highway, outside a fast-food outlet, was the brown sedan.

She was trapped.

Scott filled the truck, paid for the gas and hopped back into the cab. “Okay, Honey, we’re going to park ’round back and call your
real
dad.”

He drove around to the parking lot at the rear of the diner, reached for his phone, dialed Rex.

“You shook the feds?” Scott could hear the amusement in Rex’s voice.

“You got a better plan? Any word yet from our RCMP guy?”

“He cancelled on me. Complications. We’re rescheduled for tomorrow.”

“Okay, when you meet with him, check whether Skye Van Rijn has ever had any mob connections. Her story is she’s running from two goons her ex has sent to kill her.”

Rex laughed. “Right. Good one. She’s creative if nothing else.”

“She’s scared of something.”

Rex paused. “You’re not buying her line, are you, Armstrong?”

“Hell, no. But this is one tough lady and, for whatever reason, she’s afraid for her life. Something, or someone, has gotten to her. Bad.”

“What’s your destination?”

“Don’t know yet. Oh, and check to see if there’s any history of a restraining order.”

“Against the mobster ex?”

“That’s her story.”

“Right. Don’t disappear on me now, we might have to hand her over depending on what the feds tell me tomorrow.”

Scott felt an inexplicable slip in his stomach. “Gotcha.”

He pocketed his phone, absently scratched Honey’s head. Hell, he wasn’t ready to part with Skye. Yet.

Lies or no lies. Feds or no feds. After this morning’s chase, a part of him really wanted to know what was making her tick. The woman had spunk. He gave a snort. Yeah, she intrigued him all right. Nothing—no one—had actually engaged him in this way for quite some time.

He reached down under the dash and filled Honey’s water bowl from his bottle. “There you go, girl. We’ll pick up some dog chow later this afternoon. Wait for me here.”

Skye was at the far end of the diner, tucked into a booth. She glanced up as Scott approached, her eyes wide.

Something had spooked her.

He started to slide into the seat opposite her.

She reached out and curled her fingers tight around his wrist. “No. Here, beside me.”

She pulled him around the edge of the table, down next to her onto the padded bench. “Away from the window.”

“What’s up?” He could feel the warmth, the firmness, of her thigh up against his. It stole his concentration. The woman had the lean, hard muscles of a long-distance runner. He resisted the sudden urge to place his hand over her thigh. Instead, he set both hands safely on the Formica tabletop.