Somewhere I'll Find You (27 page)

His eye
s darkened with need as he star
ed at her trembling lips.  She was all woman.  All that he would ever want.  He knew that if he touched her, she would come willingly into his arms. 
But one of them had to keep a cool head about them, and that fell into his category.

Gently
,
he moved aside
. “W
e’re safe for right now,” he said, his voice cool and distant.  “But until we know what we’re up against, it’s better if we . . .” His eyes were filled with bitter emotions that neither of them wanted to explore.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’
t be.”  Paige looked down at her
hands
as
she clasp
ed them
in her lap.  “It’s not your fault that I’m acting like a fool.  It’s just that I . . . what I mean is . . . the attic still has me unnerved.”   When she looked up, her dark eyes were filled with doubt.  “What happened to us up in that attic?  It’s as if we’re trapped in some sort of spider web – and the spiders around here can be quite lethal.”

He frowned as he rubbed his temple.  “I haven’t a clue, but I’ll tell you one thing.  We need to find out what, and the only place to do that is right here.”

There was a pop and a hiss when the electricity returned.  The refrigerator gurgled befo
r
e whining back into activity.

A moment later, Paige’s cell began to ring.

“Let it ring, Angel. W
e have to talk,” Michael commanded.

Pushing away, Paige shot him a scathing look.  “It might be the studio. 
I have to take it; after all, of us some of us do work for a living.”

Michael glared when she flipped open the phone.  After a moment, she cast a sickly sweet smile in Michael’s direction, and her eyes gleamed in triumph.  “Richard?  How nice of you to think to call!  Yes, of course I’m fine; we had a storm knock out power, nothing
out of the ordinary
.”

Michael’s hands fisted in his pocket.

“No,” she continued, her voice softly beckoning.  “Of course it’s no bother.  I have the sketches right here with me.  Late this afternoon?  Yes, of course I remember the way.”

She had barely flipped the phone shut before Michael was beside her, his shoulders braced with determination.  “You’re not going.”

Her eyes flared under a lifted brow.  “Oh?  Since when are you calling the shots?”

“This is important, Paige.  Whatever is happening here is important.”

“And so is my career.”  Her foot tapped angrily against the polished wood floor.
  “Look, past lives and ghostly visions do
not
pay the bills, and unlike you, I wasn’t born with a
-
,”

“Be quiet.”  There was a deadly warning in his voice.

“Who are you . . .?”

“Be quiet,” he
repeated
his voice a harsh whisper.  His fingers clamped over her shoulders.  Outside the window, bushes rustled and he froze, his fingers biting
into
her skin.  “
Get back
and stay
back
.”  He moved swiftly, pinning Paige
against the wall.

“But. . .”
S
he squirmed under the length of his body.

His palm lodged
itself
over her lips.  “There’s someone out there.”

Paige stiffened, his touch m
aking
her see what Michael had seen.  A man stood outside the kitchen.  He was dressed in a windbreaker and thick, heavy soled boots. 
A typical hiker
, she would have thought, that is if it wasn’t for the gun in his hand.

She swallowed, watching Michael inch along the wall toward the door.  He slipped into the corridor, his body low to the ground.

Watching, Paige drew very still.  She had been taught that very same stance from Miles.  “Keep low,” he had once instructed her. “Focus your weight forward so that you’re ready to run if necessary.  Try making as small of a target as possible.”

Paige remembered it all too clearly.  Now, she watched the man she had saved at the beach moving in the same manner, a professional in every sense of the word.  The realization made her blood run cold.

Michael would never know what instinct had made him force Paige against the wall.  Even after leaving the field, some deep part of him registered cues, and he responded accordingly.  He didn’t even want to think about that fact.

But now, with adrenaline racing through his veins, anger brimming at his throat, he didn’t think, he only moved.  When the man outside had disappeared, Mi
chael waited for instinct to kick
in again.  And it did, almost immediately.

Around to the back.

He headed around toward the front, meaning to circle back to the cottage.  In the process, he’d also have to verify if the man had backup, and what kind of transportation might be hidden.

Michael went still as old reflexes came into play.  His fingers balled into a fist as one part of him watched and analyzed, calling on long years of grim experience that had kept him alive in too many back st
reets, parade grounds and government cavalcades.

The other part, the saner part that had struggled to be free of that dangerous life, stood away, sickened by what he had become.

His superiors at Whitehall would have been delighted to see how easily he slipped back into old patterns.  Perhaps
it was too
late
to change
, or maybe the pattern was just a part of his nature.  He didn’t have the answers and he was sick of trying
to find them
.

The truth was
,
he would never be quite free of that world.  He’d been in too deep for too long.

Following the dictates of dark memories, he worked his way around the grounds before sprinting silently away to the far perimeter of the house.

Knowing
,
already
,
that a part of him had gone dead.

Minutes later, hidden within a tangle of trees, Michael stared down at the fresh set of footprints.  Whoever had been at the window was long gone.  But they had been
well trained
, that he did know.  His jaw
hardened when the old adrenaline high kicked in once more.  He’d been slow in the
kitchen
, losing precious time at the door remembering a past that he could not change.  And because of that, the man had gotten away.

He walked back in through the kitchen door, tired, disappointed, and very angry.  If he thought that
there would be warm thanks to soothe his
weary nerves
,
however,
he soon discovered he was very wrong.

Paige’s hands were stiff by her side, her face bone white.  “You lied to me,” she hissed.  “You’re still one of them, aren’t you?”

Michael looked in
to eyes that were blazing amber
and haunted.  “Paige, listen . . .”

“No!”  The words exploded.  “I don’t want to listen.  I watched you go after that man, your whole body a weapon, your mind as cold and as hard as any computer.  You have all the right moves.  How much else are lies, Michael?  How much?”

“None.  I meant to tell you, Paige, I’m out of it now. 
When you mentioned your father, I wanted to give you some time before telling you everything.  So you could get to know me for who I am, not what I have done.”

“Ready?” There was contempt in her voice.  “Who are you to make that decision for me?”

“One more thing,” Michael c
ontinued, stepping on her words. “Y
ou’re not going to see Richard Severance.  Not alone
,
anyway.  Not after what just happened.” 
Those papers have to be the crux of it.  Someone thinks that Paige is privy to information she shouldn’t have and . . . I’ve been blind.  It’s not her that someone wants, it’s those papers . . . those damned papers.  I’ve to hide those papers where no one can find them.
 

He took a steadying breath, aware of Paige’s growing outrage, and set his jaw with typical stubbornness.  “I will go with you today, but first, I’m going to hide those damned papers someplace that even you can’t find.  I’m sorry
,
Angel, but it’s the way it has to be.”

Paige continued to stare. 
Who . . . who does he think that he is?  I know what he thinks that he’s doing – protecting me from whatever is out there.  He thinks that he has to play the big, strong hero, and he’s wrong.  I can take care of myself.

She set her lips in a grim line, one that Michael didn’t see as he turned to leave. 
All right, play your game.  And when you’re done, I’ll find those damn papers and see what you’re hiding from me.
I need to get on with my life!

Down the beach,
far away from the quarreling couple,
hidden in a cluster of tall grass, a man eased back int
o the shadows.  Carefully, he f
li
p
ped out his cell.  Then he began to speak softly.  “It’s Black, here.”

* * * *

It had taken her three tries before the old gas water tank relit.  And another hour before there was enough decent water for a bath.

She’d show Michael Sinclair, Paige thought.

Before she left this room, she would be pampered,
polished,
and beautiful.  And let him just
try
stopping her from conducting business.
  She had to get rid of him, once and for all.  She didn’t need his protection or his omissions or his … his
anything
!  He was the one who had gotten her into this mess, and she wanted nothing more to do with him. 
But I haven’t had much luck doing so,
she mused. 
Well, maybe Serena can help.  I’ll call her and bring her down on him – after all, if they’re such good friends, maybe
she
can convince him to take a permanent hike!

Frowning, Paige poured a packet of expensive French bath powder in to the big, old tub and turned the faucets on high, letting the fragrance rise in rich clouds around her.  Angrily, she settled into a froth of bubbles and forced her mind onto her new script; something she had sadly neglected since Michael had come into her life.  Mentally
,
she went over her research material.  A stickler for details, Paige drew storyboards to go with her
script, and it was those sketches that Richard wanted to see today
.
 
It might be good to see Richard.  I haven’t seen him since the auction, and he looked good that night.