Somewhere I'll Find You (37 page)

He watched, eyes distended, nostrils flared as if to drink in every nuance of her torment.  That, too, was something he was good at.

But now, it was time.  He had been interrupted too many times.  This time
,
she would not be so lucky.

“You’re shaking!
”  Michael was saying.
  His voice sounded tinny in her own ears
, but it broke through the thick fog clouding her thoughts
.
 
“
Damn it
,
Paige, what happened?”

Not him . . . not running from some enemy
. 
Paige repeated the words in a silent litany, trying to force her fear away.
  At last, she touched her gaze to his face, finding she could only speak when she looked away again.
 
“I . . . fell."

“You’re paste white and you can hardly stand.  I want to know why.” 
The soft grey sleeve of his shirt seemed dark as thunderheads against the pallor of Paige’s cheeks.  He frowned.

“I . .
. I
fell. I’m all right.”  The lie sounded hallow even to her own ears.

“I didn’t know that a simple tumble on a gentle slope could leave you so white and trembling,” he remarked crisply, his eyes tight with disbelief.  “You’re so near to fainting that you can barely stand, and you’re insisting it was from a simple fall?  Tell me the truth.”

“I told you,” she insisted.  “I was running and I tripped.”  She raised her face stubbornly to his, and even in the sick pallor of her features, he could see the belligerent set of her jaw.

His lips compressed into thin white slashes on his face, unwilling to allow the lie to come between them.  “I want to know the truth,” he replied coldly. “What happened, Paige?  I know you saw something, now what is it?”

For a wild moment, Paige considered telling him everything, but she already knew how it would end.

Last night I had a dream about people who are dead.  Then comes the best part.  At the end of the dream, I was running toward a plane in wartime London
.  That’s the real reason I wanted to run . . . away from this insanity. 
It seemed as if it were me, but it was also someone else. 
I think it was Jenny boarding that plane.  And then there was gunfire and people running.  It’s going to happen . . . or maybe it already has.  I’m so confused and I don’t know how to tell you.

Pulling her to her feet, Michael lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his shoulders.  They crossed a garden full of flowers and herbs, with lavender and clematis bordered by climbing roses.  Turning down a path, the house was before them, its walls capped by a fantasy roof full of gables, pinnacles, and twisting brick chimneys.  It was almost unreal to Paige’s battered senses. 

Tak
ing the stairs two at a time, focused only on carrying Paige as swiftly into the confines of the house as quickly as he could, Michael
shoved open the door to the house’s vast, shiny kitchen.

He had turned to close the door he had so unceremoniously kicked open when a voice cut through the silence o
f the house.  “Michael Sinclair.  W
hat a surprise.  Do you always carry Miss O’Neal or has she simply forgotten how to walk?”

Placing Paige down behind him, Michael turned to glare at the elegant man who stepped casually through the kitchens opposite door to stand before him.  Their guest sported a perfectly cut tweed jacket and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  And though time has passed
between their last meeting and now – three years in fact,
-- it had not been, in Michael’s opinion,
nearly long enough since he had
last
laid eyes on Alistar Carver.  Narrowing his jade green eyes, he braced himself protectively in front of Paige.  “What are you doing here?”

“Oh my, you haven’t changed one bit, have you?” Alistar clucked his tongue eve
n
as his eyes traced Paige’s movement to Michael’s side.  “As you must have
guessed, it’s not for pleasure.
I assure you
, I can find far more interesting uses for my time
.”  Gesturing to the man in his shadow, a smirk crossed Carver’s face.  “Yu do remember John Black, don’t you?  He’s become a very valuable asset in our department.”

Looking at the powerfully built man with eyes the color of muddy ice, it was all Michael could do to hide his revulsion.  “I remember him . . . vaguely,” he replied carefully.  But Michael knew Black’s reputation very well.

An orphan, Black had been brought into their line of business personally by Carver – who Michael assumed, had chosen to take him under his wing merely by the
merits of his criminal records.
Black
had
been placed
,
under Carver’s watchful eyes, into military programs for the disadvantaged as early as had been physically possible
and had been brought swiftly up the ladder to success
.

Michael had heard all the rumors about Black’s jealousy and disregard for anything resembling fair play or common decency, but hard evidence was difficult to come by.  Even the tales about his alleged involvements in the deaths of at least five of his classmates were impossible to verify because no one seemed to be able to give specifics.  As a result, however, even Black’s hardened instructors gave him a wide berth.

Such preferential treatment, of course, hadn’t stoppe
d after his graduation, either; C
arver had been pushing Black up the ranks for years now, overlooking men that were far more qualified than the muddy-eyed John Black, to suit his own obscure purpose.

“John,” Carver
coaxed, “do be useful and help Miss O’Neal fix drinks, will you?”  There was an edge of command
in his voice.  It
accompanied the smooth condescension brought on by Carver’s many years among the top echelons of government security. 

Unaffected by any emotion as a result, however,
Black nodded, following Paige into the living room. As they did, Michael noticed that neither she nor Carver acknowledged one another.  His lips curled, “You haven’t changed one bit, have you?”

“I expect not.”  Carver smoothed the lapel of his jacket before sliding a hand inside his trim gray trousers.  “But aren’t you interested in why I am here, old friend?”

“Friend?  We’ve never been friends,” Michael snapped.  “What is it that you want?”

“I’m endeavoring to find the people that are after both of you,” Alistar replied, his lips curving into a smile that might have frightened a viper.

“Your endeavors are not enough,” Michael grated.  “Someone is after Paige, someone clever.  I want to know who, and I think that you know.”

“What makes you believe that these – assaults are aimed at her?  Perhaps, my dear Michael, they are directed at you.” Carver’s eyes narrowed.  “After all, you have left a great deal of enemies in your wake.  And isn’t it just a bit of a stretch to lay it all on Ms. O’Neal’s delicate shoulders, when in fact these troubles began with your arrival in California?  What troubles did you bring into her life?”

“And you came all the way across an ocean just to make certain that her life was safe?”  Sarcasm dripped from Michael’s voice.  “Unless she had something you
wanted badly, you’d throw her to the wolves in a heartbeat if you thought she was of no use to you.  And something in my gut tells me that you’ve more than a . . . parental interest in her.”

“Ah yes,” Carver sneered, “That very famous gut of yours.  It has proven useful at times, I will admit.  But recently, a matter
,
in which Miss O’Neal may have some minor involvement
,
has come to light.  There are some very influential people – on her side and ours, who wish to see this matter quietly and efficiently closed.”

“Oh?  And what matter would that be?” Michael grated.

“Why, don’t tell me you remain uninformed about the murder that ridiculous financier Richard Severance committed in our home country!  Your contacts are failing you, old
boy
, if it has.  The very fact that Miss O’Neal had a most unfortunate association, shall we say, with the Severance fellow
,
put
s
her and yourself in a most interesting position.  These threats against her, if indeed they are aimed at her and not at you, are not doubt, related.”

Michael stared.  “What?” He demanded, finally. 
Has Carver gone mental?  What is he chattering
on
about?

Carver smiled, but not
h
ing in his expression lightened the chill in his eyes.  “As I have been patiently explaining, Michael, there are people who are most concerned with Miss O’Neal’s welfare, and then there are those who would be . . . highly unlikely to grieve if
the young woman were to end up i
n the morgue.  Your presence only confirms that she is in some sort of danger and draws forward those who would wish to harm her.  That is why I’m h
ere, to sort out this whole mess
.”

Michael crossed his arms. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

“It’s quite simple
,
you see.  You can walk away now . . . go off and finish your holiday on some tropical island, or . . .” Carver flipped a hand dismissively.  “Wherever the lot of you go, and Black can replace you
… O
r you
will find that you
have gained yourself a new assignment
in the protection of this young lady
,
Commander.
  I suggest that you remember that you are still a member of the Royal Marines, and under my direct authority.
  You’ll do what I say, when I say, and how I say it. My orders will be yours to follow – or John shall replace you.  Is that understood?”  Carver smiled thinly, already certain of the choice Michael would make.

“Black?”  Unable to hide his disgust, Michael’s eyes were shards of green
diamonds
.  “The man is completely unreliable and you know it.  He bungled that last assignment in London and almost blew up half of Heathrow in the process.”

“A matter of miscommunication,” Carver insisted lazily.  “Mr. Black is well equipped to care for Miss O’Neal quite adequately.”

“Just as he did the last woman he was supposed to protect?  Pulling the full force of the branch was the only thing that kept him out of prison.”

Carver clicked his tongue.  “Pure hearsay.  Like any man involved in dangerous work, our Mr. Black felt the need for an occasional release from stress.”

“Well
,
next time, he should tr
y a graphic novel.”  Michael spa
t out the words, barely leashing his control.  “You call it a simple stress reliever that he forced a nurse from Brighton into his car and kept her hostage for six hours?”  Michael growled out a curse, ignoring Carver’s attempt to interrupt.  “By God, there’s hospital testimony
in
triplicate
to support the evidence of his assault.” 
Before it was neatly tucked away in Carver’s Top-Secret file, never again to see the light of day.