Safe Passage (9 page)

She leaned into him, dropped her voice to a smoky whisper. “They’re there, across the street. Look.”

Scott’s mouth went dry as the warmth of her whisper brushed his ear. He could smell the spicy-clean scent of her. It floated up with the warmth of her body from the vee of her shirt.

His nostrils flared involuntarily. He pressed his hands firmly against the cool tabletop, forced himself to look out the window.

There it was. A brown sedan.

Scott frowned. He’d left the feds ankle-deep in farm dirt. He was sure of it. But he and Skye had wasted precious time traversing the network of Saanich Peninsula backroads before connecting with the Island Highway. Perhaps the cops had second-guessed them, headed straight for the highway.

The sedan was parked outside a fast-food outlet. Empty. Scott turned his attention back to Skye. “Order some food.”

“I’m not real hungry about now.”

“Just order something.” He got up, sauntered casually over to the store end of the establishment. At least that’s the image he wanted to project. Sauntering was probably the wrong term for his lopsided gait, he thought ruefully. He selected a pair of birding binoculars, paid for them.

“Want a bag for those?” The cashier asked.

“No, thanks.”

“Oh—” the cashier reached for a piece of paper “—I see you’re with the lady. Can you give this to her? It’s the number for Economy Rentals. They’ve got SUVs.”

Scott took the piece of paper, his expression studiously blank. He tucked it into his pocket. “Thanks.”

So the doctor had planned to ditch him.

Until she’d noticed the brown sedan.

He said nothing about the cashier or Economy Rentals when he rejoined Skye. He sat, careful not to touch her leg this time. He lifted the new scope to his eyes, found the vehicle in his sights, adjusted the focus. It was the same model. He dropped the binoculars to the licence plate.

Different plate.

He smiled inwardly, set the binoculars carefully on the table. “It’s them all right.”

She sucked in her breath sharply, turned to look at the car.

It all happened in an instant.

As Skye turned to face the window, Scott caught sight of a young couple and child. They were exiting the fastfood outlet across the street, making straight for the brown sedan.

Damn.

He needed her to believe the two men were still hot on their tail. It would keep her from bolting.

With one arm he grabbed Skye around the shoulders. He placed his other hand firmly along the side of her face, turned her head from the window, pressed his mouth down hard onto hers.

A small, muffled sound of surprise strangled in her throat as she squirmed under him. She forced her hands up against his chest, tried to push him away.

But he gathered her forcibly closer, tasted the wild sweetness of her mouth.

And just as suddenly he felt her go still, soft and malleable in his arms.

A wild sort of terror gripped him as he realized her lips were opening under his. His stomach lurched as he dipped, slipped over the precipice of no return.

Skye stilled in shock as a hot wave surged through her.

But the demand, the hot hunger in his mouth, was overpowering. It kindled some dormant need deep within. It sparked, flared, tore through her like rampant wildfire.

She could do nothing to fight it. She angled her head, gave him more access. His mouth was salty, male, rough. His tongue flicked hard, deep. She met his voracious hunger with her own feral need, let his tongue twist slick around her own. And every conscious thought liquefied as her world tipped out from under her.

Warmth radiated through her entire body to the very tips of her extremities. She could feel the hot pulse of it in her toes, between her legs, under the sensitive pads of her fingers.

She could no more push him away than stop breathing. Her hands splayed hard against the solid warmth of Scott McIntyre’s chest. She melted into him, drawing from his feral strength. She opened her mouth wider, starved for warmth, compassion, care. It was an elemental hunger she’d hidden, denied, for most of her life. It was kin to that deep primal need she’d first tasted more than a decade ago. That need to love and be loved, nurture and be nurtured. It was
feeling.

Life.

And it had almost ended hers.

The memory stabbed sharp through her brain and jerked Skye to her senses.

She wrenched back, flushed, breathing fast and shallow.

But it was too late.

Something inside had been released and it would tax her to the limits to try to contain it. She looked into Scott’s face. Arousal etched his features into a granite study of dark, unleashed desire.

He’d been as surprised at the sudden explosive intensity between them. But she could read something else there. In his eyes. Something she recognized. An anguish. It made her want to reach out, touch his cheek. Ask him.

She held back.

Silence stretched, hung thick, tangible.

Neither could find words to break the density of the energy that surged, pulsed alive, between them.

“Your order.”

Both jolted, stared up at the woman as if she were a landed alien in the tight little world that had closed around their booth.

The waitress grinned knowingly, set the plates down in front of them, left without a word.

Skye tore her eyes from his, tried to focus on the plate of food in front of her. “W-what do you think you were doing?”

“I was kissing you.” His words were gruff. “The men across the road were leaving the restaurant. I couldn’t risk them seeing your face.”

Skye’s brow dropped down into a frown. She felt an inexplicable pang of disappointment. “
You
couldn’t risk it?”

He reached for the burger in front of him, bit into it, then spoke around the food in his mouth. “Yeah. We’re in this together, remember. What’s that you ordered?”

“Ham and cheese sandwich.” He’d thrown walls up. That was a good thing, she told herself as she poked at her meal. But inside her belly she trembled. She was afraid not only of what hounded her in the streets, but of what had been set free inside her very being.

And she knew, despite Scott McIntyre’s nonchalance, that whatever it was, had touched him, too.

She lifted the sandwich to her mouth, stopped.

Dammit, she felt emotion pricking at her eyes.

The intensity between them had suddenly made it all raw again. After all these years it was as if he’d ripped open some door, found her naked, exposed. She could feel the ancient pain again. She plonked her sandwich back onto the plate, turned away from Scott, tried frantically to blink back the wetness that threatened her eyes.

My baby. I just wanted a life for my baby. Damn Malik for creating life, then violently snuffing it out. May he rot in hell.

She felt the heavy pressure of his hand on her shoulder. She tensed, didn’t turn to face him, didn’t want him to see her vulnerability.

“You all right, Skye? Not hungry?”

She whirled around. “I told you I wasn’t hungry,” she snapped. “You’re the one who forced it on me.” She was talking about more than the food.

“Whoa, easy. I told you to order. I didn’t say you had to eat and enjoy. Besides, I wouldn’t have thought you were one to take orders without question, Doctor.”

She set her jaw, glared at him. “You got that right. I don’t. Never have. Never will. But I’ve paid dearly for my obstinacy, McIntyre.” She regretted the slip the minute the words tumbled out of her mouth.

He studied her face, reading something there. The flint in his eyes softened. When he spoke, his voice was low, like mist in a green valley. He reached up, touched the edge of her jaw. “Who wounded you so badly, Skye? Your ex?”

She jerked out from his touch, motioned with her head to the wooden cane resting on the opposite seat. “You have your own battle scars, McIntyre. I can see it in your eyes. You need more than that crutch of yours.”

He stiffened. His nostrils flared. His brow pulled low. His mouth setting a grim line across his tanned face.

She’d hit a raw nerve.

He said nothing.

She challenged with her eyes. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His gaze was implacable. He’d shut down completely.

She pressed. “I doubt you hurt that leg of yours skiing anyways. I saw that scar. It’s not consistent with a twisted knee.”

He was dead silent. She should let that serve as warning.

“Can I get you anything else?” The waitress’s voice sliced into the tension.

“Just the check,” barked Scott. He jerked his chin toward Skye’s plate. “And can you bag that to go?”

He grabbed Skye’s arm. “Come.”

Chapter 8

H
oney bounded out the truck and relieved herself on the strip of lawn fringing the parking lot. Scott unwrapped Skye’s uneaten sandwich, crouched, fed it to Honey.

But his focus was not on the pooch, it was on Skye. He watched her long legs pace the length of the parking lot, her arms wrapped tight around her waist. She reminded him of a wounded and dangerous animal trapped in a cage.

Dangerous enough to lash out and cut.

He was rattled by the way he’d lost control the minute his mouth had met her warm, sweet lips, shaken at the way she’d brazenly sliced so close to the bone.

He studied her as she strode, back and forth, back and forth, boots clicking against asphalt.

“She’s looking to bolt, Honey,” he whispered to the dog. “But she’s scared. We gotta play this cool. Don’t want to push the lady too far into a corner.”

He stood, leaned on his cane as she approached. “So where to now, Doctor?”

She halted. “Those men, how did they find us?” she demanded. “I thought we left them in that field.”

“We did. They must’ve made an educated guess we’d head north. Nowhere else to go from the Saanich Peninsula except by boat. And the only road north through the Malahat is the Island Highway. Perhaps we wasted time using the backroads to get around the inlet.”

Her eyes flickered from one end of the parking lot to the other. The fine mist of rain was leaving diamond drops in her thick dark hair.

“Why aren’t you worried they’ll see us now?”

“I figure they headed on north when they left, and they’ll keep going for a while, until they see no sign of us. My guess is they’ll backtrack.”

She angled her head, her almond eyes narrowed. “You some kind of expert?”

He shrugged. “I’m a writer. I have an imagination.”

She glanced down at his leg. “How
did
you hurt your knee, McIntyre?”

It was a test.

She was pushing him, trying to decide whether to ditch or to trust him. He’d better give her damn good reason to trust.

He sighed, fingered the smooth, hard wood of his cane, buying time. “I do a lot of traveling to remote places, for research. Some of my work is controversial. I got into trouble with a rebel group in the desert in India. They robbed me, shot me and left me for dead.”

“What desert?” she demanded.

He swallowed. He hadn’t expected this level of inquiry. “The Thar.”

“Where? Near the Kashmir border?”

His gut squeezed into a ball. Most people didn’t have a clue where the Thar lay. “What does it matter?”

Her eyes flicked down to his ankle, where he hid his knife, then back to his eyes. “There’s a lot of political trouble there, near the Kashmir border.”

“Has been for years.”

She took a step toward him. “Why were you there?”

“Like I said, research. I write about stuff like that. The conflict between India and Pakistan is of particular interest to me.”

She moved closer. “And the knife? The one strapped to your ankle?”

Scott met the challenge in her gaze. “You get into a habit, Doctor. You learn to take care of yourself in foreign lands where a government may be of no help to you. Old habits die hard.”

He’d touched something, connected. A link had been forged. He could see it in her eyes.

But her words spoke otherwise. “I find it strange, Mr. McIntyre, that someone with your taste for adventure would find himself in pastoral Haven.”

That’s where people find themselves when put out to pasture.
“My leg, Doctor. I needed rest and medical attention for my leg. I’m trying to heal. And that’s the bloody hell truth of it.”

She flinched as the sudden heat in his words, reached out, touched his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled away, opening the car door for Honey. “In, girl.” He turned back to face Skye. “So, where exactly is this cabin?”

She hesitated. “I—I’m not sure.”

“You mean, you won’t tell me. That’s it, isn’t it? Scott McIntyre has served his purpose. Now you want to go it alone.”

“No.” She ran her hand nervously through her damp hair, crushing the diamond droplets. “It’s… I’m confused. That’s all.”

He decided to take the gamble, roll the dice. He climbed into the cab of the truck. “Well, it’s been fun.” He started to close the door. “Have a nice life, Doctor. Watch out for bad guys.”

She lunged forward, grabbed his door. “Damn you.”

“Hey, I got a book to write, a leg to mend. If you need my help, tell me.” He leaned forward, dropped his voice. “Just don’t treat me like a yo-yo, Doctor. You’ve jerked me around enough.”

Uncertainty wavered in her eyes.

He jerked his chin toward her hand holding his door open. “Do you mind? I’d like to leave now.”

“Zeballos.” She blurted the word out.

His eyes shot to hers. “What?”

“The cabin. It’s near Zeballos.”

“Zeballos? As in totally isolated? As in population around two hundred?”

“You know it?”

“I know it well.”

“Can you take me there?”

His eyes probed hers. “No more bull?”

She made a wry face. “I’ll do my best.”

“Hop in.”

Scott fired the ignition. Bingo. He’d played her right, scored. But again the win came with an ironic twist.

Zeballos, of all places.

Scott hadn’t been there since he was a kid. Since he’d gone fishing up that way with his dad.

This was going to be a trip back in time. And a journey into the heart of the wilderness, into the very core of who he was.

It was a place he didn’t want to go.

But Skye was forcing him back down that road.

“We have visual. She’s just left a diner in Duncan. There’s a man with her. We’ve got a tail on them.”

Relief surged through him, then bottomed out. “Who is this man?”

“No ID yet.”

He lurched to his feet. A queer, hot sensation sank through to the pit of his stomach. Outwardly, he showed nothing. He paced the room, his mind in turmoil. She had help? An ally? Someone she might trust with sensitive information? This was a new variable. They couldn’t afford to take chances with an unknown.

He’d been prepared to neutralize her at any stage of Operation Vector, but he’d have liked to play her through until the end. Perhaps now was the time.

He halted in the center of the cabin, turned slowly to face his assistant. “When they find her, neutralize her.”

“You sure?”

He turned his back on his assistant, stared through the thick salt-encrusted window, out over the sea. “Very sure.”

They wound through the streets of Duncan, heading away from the well-traveled Island Highway for the lesser-used coastal road. The rain fell heavier, bringing the heavens growling down with it.

Skye glanced at Scott. The set of his mouth was hard. His eyes kept flicking up to the rearview mirror. She felt a new edginess in him as he shifted gears.

She turned, looked out the back of the truck, eyes picking through cars on the roads, trying to see what he was seeing, what was bothering him.

But the brown sedan was nowhere to be seen.

He swerved suddenly right, veered down a side road, then left. And left again.

“What is it?”

“Our tail.” His words were terse.

She swiveled in her seat again. “I don’t see them.”

He said nothing.

She pulled her hands through her tangle of hair. She felt as though she’d been on the road for days. But it had only been hours. If they drove on through the night, they could still be in Zeballos by dawn.

Scott finally pulled onto the narrow coast road. He put his foot on the gas, drove fast, overtaking cars. The speed didn’t worry her—it was the reason for the haste that concerned her. She stole another look at his rugged profile. Despite the firm set of his jaw, in spite of the speed, his large hands were relaxed on the wheel. He handled the hurtling vehicle with the calm confidence and gentle touch of a familiar lover. It sent an unbidden and quirky thrill through her gut. She could imagine this man crossing the burning hot sands of the wild, unending Thar. She could picture him in the untamed places he’d spoken of.

She laid her hand on Honey’s soft coat, turned to look out the passenger side window. The dark green conifers whizzed by in a monotonous rain-washed blur. Sometimes she missed the sun, the hot, dry hills of her native land. She wondered if Scott McIntyre missed places like the Thar, if they called to his soul in the night the way her home called to hers.

She knew the Thar. Malik had spoken of it often. He’d been there, on business. The Thar desert stood divided between the Sindh region in Pakistan and the Rajasthan in India. Malik had used it as a base to fund rebels in nearby Kashmir in return for their cooperation.

She sucked her breath deep into her chest, exhaled shakily. Way back, when she’d first come to this country, she’d considered going to the authorities, telling them she knew La Sombra, the man behind Anubis, knew where to find him.

But she hadn’t.

Because she knew the depth and reach of the Anubis network. And she knew Malik was smart enough to keep moving, to keep switching identities. Even if the world knew Malik Leandros
was
La Sombra he’d still remain as elusive as a ghost.

And where would she be? She’d committed identity theft. She’d entered the country illegally. She’d trained in an Anubis camp. She bore the mark of Anubis. She’d be captured, incarcerated, interrogated and jailed.

And if she ever broke her cover, he’d find her, come after her, kill her.

She had little doubt of it.

No. She wanted to keep the past buried. She wanted to be free. But was this freedom?

She shuddered. Honey snuggled closer.

Scott’s eyes flicked over to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“We’ll overnight in Chemainus.”

“Why? Why can’t we drive right through?”

His eyes darted once again to the mirror. “We need to make sure we’ve shaken them. If not, we’ll be leading them down a one-way street into Zeballos. We’d be like rats working ourselves into an isolated dead-end trap.”

He was right. There’d be nowhere left to run.

“We’ll pick up the highway again first thing in the morning and make a run for Campbell River. If we haven’t lost them by then, we’re going to have to rethink our strategy.”

Our
strategy. He made her feel as though she had an ally. She hadn’t felt like that since Jalil had helped her create a new identity. She reached out, tentatively placed a hand on his injured knee. “Thank you, Scott. Thank you for believing in me.”

His eyes shot to hers.

Words hung unspoken. Then he jerked back, his attention once again fixed on the road ahead.

Thank you for believing in me.
Bloody hell, it made him
want
to believe.

Scott cruised past several motels, found one that satisfied.

“Why this one?”

“It’s got parking out back. Can’t see vehicles from the road.”

Skye looked at him strangely. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

He forced a grin. “I watched too many detective shows when my leg was mending. Hop out.”

“What?”

“Get us a room. Use my name. Don’t move until I get back.”

Her eyes widened. “Why? Where are you going?” The shaky edge in her voice tugged at his male ego. She wanted to keep him near. It pleased something primal within. He told himself it was only the satisfaction at having won his quarry over. He was a little closer to her secrets. And that was his mission.

This was just a job.

And that kiss at the diner… It was pure male physical reaction. Normal for a man who hadn’t touched a woman in a long, long time. The hunger she’d awakened in him had nothing to do with the permanent void in his chest. The fear she’d stirred in him when she’d looked deep into his eyes and seen the pain of the past meant nothing.

She was a criminal.

“I’m going to get some dog food for Honey. I’ll be back soon.”

“I can come and get the food with you.”

“It’s better you lay low.” He needed to get her out of the way and to let Rex know they’d picked up a new tail in Duncan. A tail he couldn’t be sure was the feds. He needed to switch vehicles. Just in case.

“Fine.” She hauled her backpack out of the truck, swiveled on the heels of her biker boots and strode up to the motel’s reception area.

Scott unhitched his eyes from the sight of her rump moving in her jeans, shifted gears. “That’s one hell of a package, Honey.” He pulled back out onto the road.

Scott found a car dealership not far from the little motel. It had just what he needed in the lot.

An hour later, he and Honey sat in a silver Land Rover. It was the color of Skye’s eyes and worth more than the black thing Rex had sent him off in. Scott chuckled. “He’s not gonna like the tab on this baby,” he told Honey as he punched in Rex’s number.

“Hey, boss.”

“You sound chipper.”

“Chipper? That another one of your pommy tags?”

“Cut to it, Agent. Hannah and I have a birthing class to get to in twenty minutes.”

Scott’s mind went blank.
Hannah was pregnant?

“Scott…you there?”

He found his tongue. It was thick when he spoke. “Rex…I—I never knew. I never even asked how she and Danny were—”

“Hey. It’s okay. She’s due any day now. Danny’s doing great. Can’t wait until his uncle Scott comes to visit.”

Scott rubbed his hand brutally over his face. It had been three years since Rex and Hannah had married. Scott had left for the field immediately after the wedding. As happy as he was for the Logan family, their success had only served to sharpen his pain. Guilt welled bitter inside him. “I’m sorry, Rex. I—I’ve been…self-involved.”

“Yeah, I understand.” He paused. “How’s Honey?”

Scott reached out, ruffled the Logan family pet’s smooth fur. The guilt bit deeper. Rex had been looking out for him, giving him their dog. He’d been trying to bring Scott back out of his shell, his self-inflicted prison. And he was keeping tabs on his progress by making him report to him personally.