Silver Storm: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 2 (5 page)

He was dark, brooding, and grumpy. Not at all what she had in mind for a husband. She’d always envisioned herself marrying a happy-go-lucky blond who loved to laugh, had a dimple in his cheek, and had an optimist’s cheer always near the surface. She needed that lightheartedness.

She
was dark.
She
was intense and competitive, always driven to do more, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, constantly fighting the fire in her gut pushing her on because, as a rule, people either disappointed her or died. Both outcomes hurt like hell, and she worked her butt off to make sure neither would permanently cripple her.

Now she had no choice. The newly shining Mark of the Shen was still hot to the touch on his thickly corded neck. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him and he moved like a cagey predator, always watching his back, analyzing every sound. Constantly alert. That was how she would describe him. She doubted a spider could crawl across the floor even half a room away without him noticing it. Judging by the tense lines around his eyes, she doubted he slept much either.

He was a few inches taller than she, which was saying something. And he had to outweigh her by at least fifty pounds of rock-solid chest and bulging muscles showcased to perfection by soft denim jeans and a snug, wet, molded-to-every-muscle, jersey cotton T-shirt. His head was shaved, and she guessed this chosen hairstyle had something to do with the jagged scar about three inches wide that began behind his right ear. The scar traveled down his head to curve around the side of his neck, across his collarbone and disappear beneath his dark green T-shirt.

He’d been hurt at some point, burned. The thought didn’t sit well with her and she found herself fighting the urge to trail her fingertips over the pale pink skin and trace it with her lips.

Once she’d explored there, she’d start on the tattoo playing peak-a-boo with her from beneath the shirt’s collar on his left. If he’d had hair, it would probably be coffee colored to match the arrogant flare of his eyebrows. Startling gray eyes assessed her every move, studied her face. Stared at her lips. How utterly ridiculous that she would be hungering for a kiss, wondering how it would feel to be in his arms while he was most likely thinking of a hundred important, relevant, tactical questions that she couldn’t answer.

Turning away from temptation, Sarah tried not to stare at everything around her, but it was all so strange. The Archiver had warned her that things had changed. She’d scoffed. How much could things really change in just a few years? But looking around Tim’s basement at all the bizarre boxes, gadgets, and remote controls, she was out of her league and too exhausted at the moment to figure it all out.

Tim mumbled something about getting them both some dry clothes and disappeared up the stairs again, leaving her free to explore. She wrapped the blanket around herself as best she could and prayed her legs wouldn’t collapse as she wandered toward the large black rectangle hanging from the wall directly across from the couch. There were no buttons on the front, no numbers or any way to turn the thing on.

“That’s the T.V.” Tim spoke from behind her and she jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Where’s the cable box? And the control panel?” Sarah ran her hands along the front of the smooth black frame. “It’s so thin. How do you turn it on?”

“Well, it’s hooked into the Internet through the gaming system right now.” He lifted a remote control that looked like it could operate a spaceship and began pushing buttons. He might as well have been speaking Greek to her.

A large white screen appeared with a small rectangular box and colored letters. “Google?” Sarah turned to study the screen. “What is Google? Is that what T.V. is called now?”

“No.” Tim grabbed a flat, black, shiny item and pushed another button. She moved closer. It looked like a tiny T.V. screen you could hold in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It’s a tablet. An iPad.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s like a computer, only a lot smaller than the ones you probably remember.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes as his fingers flew over the tablet and her name appeared in the box on the television. Then the T.V. screen changed and there were lists of things about her. Even some photos, career statistics, and several headlines about her disappearance.

“Newspapers are on television now?”

“Sort of. The internet is hard to explain.”

For the first time since she’d arrived her chest squeezed and the cold hand of doubt settled along her spine. Just a few years, but everything was different. Tim continued to flick fingers on the tablet and articles flashed on the screen, changing faster than she could read them. Photos of her, sun kissed and smiling with her fellow WPVA players and her old teammates from Pepperdine. Tim didn’t give her time to read much, or reminisce about her old friends. She read headlines, scanned a sentence or two as quickly as she could manage. Then a photo of her grandmother appeared on the screen.

“Stop!”

Tim froze and she closed the distance until she stood inches from the giant photo of her beloved Granny T. It was an obituary. The old woman had apparently caused quite a stir, refusing to believe her granddaughter was dead and leaving everything she had in trust to a girl who’d been missing for over fifteen years. “She’s gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sarah shook her head and refused to succumb to the burning behind her eyelids. Fingers shaking, she reached out to touch the smooth surface displaying the photo. “She’s been gone for over ten years.”

Energy crackled through her arm before a loud fizzing sound erupted from the black T.V. followed by a pop. The screen went black.

“I’m sorry.” Tim pushed a few more buttons, then whispered under his breath. “And I think you just blew out my T.V., lightning girl.”

“Twenty-seven years.” Gone. She leaned her forehead against the black screen in front of her, closing her eyes against the pain. If anyone had asked her a few minutes ago, she would have sworn she’d only spent a few hours in that odd laboratory with the Archiver Bran, Celestina, and the terrifying visions of Chicago vanishing that had nearly driven her mad. Her friends would be old women now, grandmothers. Grandma Tilly was long gone, too. And the one thing she’d been so proud of, so sure would succeed, the Women’s Professional Volleyball Association, had gone bankrupt after only a few years. “I don’t think I like your Google.”

Tim approached from behind her. From the corner of her eye she could see a pair of black sweatpants, a green-and-white T-shirt with military insignia on it and a pair of rather large flip-flops in one of his hands. “Here. My mom was only five-two, so none of her stuff will fit you. I had to get out some of my old high school stuff. Get dressed and then we’ll figure it all out.”

Sarah turned, but she didn’t reach for the clothes. Instead, she walked straight into his chest, leaned her head against his shoulder, and prayed she wouldn’t have to beg for the hug she desperately needed. The Archiver told her this man would help her, protect her, and fight at her side when the time came to battle the black blanket of doom. Celestina, the Seer, swore to her that she could trust the man, no matter how rugged or gruff he seemed. The knowledge Celestina had shared with her about this man didn’t jive with the scarred, hard-ass standing in front of her. He looked more like a biker than the boy-next-door type she was used to. With his money, scientific background and nerdy math brain, she’d figured he’d look like a skinny, calculator-toting geek in designer clothing, not a hulking gladiator in combat boots, blue jeans and a T-shirt. Hugging hadn’t specifically been listed in his job description, but Tim didn’t know that and she wasn’t about to enlighten him as his thickly muscled arms finally wrapped around her bare shoulders and snugged her in close to his large body.

She relaxed against him. Celestina had pulled her from the center of a lightning strike, altered her DNA, and sent her through time. Surely, the tiny blonde woman knew what she was talking about with Tim. The Seer promised her that Tim could be trusted. Promised her. Inhaling his rugged scent, she jumped right off the cliff.

“Look, Tim. I didn’t arrive here by accident. Celestina told me all about you. I know you’re military, an only child, and both of your parents are dead. I know that you’ve got money. I know you’re were a pilot in the Army and that you worked on experimental weapons as a government contractor when your time was up. I know you sabotaged your work. You think that you quit, but the government is still watching you.”

Tim’s shoulders got stiffer with every word she spoke but heat poured into her from the Mark on her neck, driving her to blissful distraction. She gave in, closed her eyes and enjoyed holding him while it lasted. He was suspicious as hell.

“Where did you get all of this stellar information?”

“The Seer, Celestina. She said some guy named Walter wants to recruit you into the Casper Project.” She sighed and held on tighter, her thin arms like steel wires around his waist, her body pressed to his like melted wax, and her face buried in his shoulder where he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “She said to warn you that that’s a bad idea. That you should avoid him. He’s got it all wrong.”

“Walter?”

“Yep.”

“This Seer called him Walter?”

“Yes. Who is he?” Now he sounded angry. Whoever this Walter character was, Tim didn’t like him. Too bad. There was nothing she could do about it, just pass along Celestina’s message. She was terrified, and tired. And her whole body felt like a live wire about to explode into a rain of sparks. It hurt like hell. Touching him made it bearable, but she didn’t want to admit that. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. And it’s a long story. I’d really rather not tell it twice. Please? They said I could trust you, that you’d protect me with your life and help me. Please. I promise I’ll answer every question I can when we get there.”

“Get where?”

“I need you to take me to Luke Lawson. He lives on Valley Court in Bannockburn. He’s the scientist I told you about. I need him. And we have to go today.”

<><><>

I need him
. Sarah’s hot breath pushed the words through the soft cotton of his T-shirt and his arms tensed. He didn’t like hearing her claim to need another man. It was insane. It was stupid. It was gut fucking instinct. And like it or not, he was going to help her any way he could so he could continue to look himself in the mirror each morning in the completely improbably event that she was telling him the truth, and so he could take care of things if she weren’t. For now, his best option was to play along.

Walter? The mysterious Celestina called the Rear Admiral by his first name? Named his Top Secret project team, and its highest-ranking officer, by name? What kind of game was this woman playing? She said she was tired. Hungry. Needed his help. Two could play this game.

“All right. Let’s eat breakfast, and then I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.” And he’d interrogate the living hell out of anyone he found there.

“Okay.” She shuddered in his arms and nodded into his neck. Inexplicably, she moved her arms from his waist farther up his back and squeezed, one hand cradling the back of his head. It was personal, a lover’s touch, a subconscious claim on his body. Damned if he didn’t allow it. Hell, he never wanted her to let go.

This was all kinds of fucked up.

He’d had his fun over the years, back when he was young, stupid and pretty. Back then he’d been the rich Senator’s only heir and the girls had been relentless. Every one of them wanted to marry a wealthy, West Point graduate. But they’d all been too much for him to take. Too much like his mother with their Prada shoes and calculating smiles.

Sarah was scared, and there was no hint of insincerity in her eyes or her touch. Unable to resist the sweet seduction of her bare shoulders another minute, he lifted his palm to her back and brushed his fingers beneath her hair and along her spine in what he hoped were soothing strokes. The wet heat of tears soaked his neck and the collar of his shirt for several minutes before she whispered a reply.

“Thank you.”

She pulled out of his arms and he would’ve sworn the temperature in the room plummeted fifteen degrees. Suddenly, he didn’t know where to put his hands so he pointed back to the small bathroom. “I’ll make breakfast. Shower’s through there. You might want to use it. You smell like lake moss and dead fish.”

She grinned through the tears on her cheeks, wiped them away with the back of one hand and grabbed the clothing he’d brought down for her. “Could be worse, I guess.”

“Could be.” Lie. Lie. Lie. She smelled like heaven on Earth and the caveman inside him wanted to drag her into his bedroom, tug the blanket out of her hands, and spend the whole day exploring every inch of her delectable body. But she wanted to go see another man, a scientist in Bannockburn. He’d rather lock her in his bedroom and ravage her until all thought fled from her lightning-quick mind, but he’d have to be dead before he’d admit it aloud. He wasn’t that stupid.

She closed the bathroom door behind her and the spell was broken. He shifted the uncomfortable bulge in his pants around and frowned. He must be going crazy. He’d known the woman for all of a half hour! And Bannockburn?

Whatever. He’d make eggs, then drive her to see her precious scientist. He needed to know all about Luke Lawson, make sure the man wasn’t a threat. After that? Assuming she was telling him the truth, she wouldn’t be his responsibility anymore, would she?