Chapter Fourteen

Mel walked around the perimeter of their little clearing. It was about twenty feet by twenty feet, surrounded by tall trees which formed a canopy over their heads, hopefully, hiding them from above.

She was relaxing a little, the tension seeping from her limbs as soon as they’d left the water.

She really didn’t like water.

She was used to danger; she put her life at risk every time she made a jump in time. There were so many things that could go wrong.

She’d had a couple of near misses in the past. You got a brief glimpse of where and when you were going, and a fraction of a second to back out if it wasn’t going to work. The time got shorter as the distance got further. So far, her reflexes had been fast enough, and she’d aborted the jumps before they completed—encasing her in solid rock that wasn’t supposed to be there, in one case. In the middle of a burning building in the other.

She did like the forest, though. She wasn’t used to nature. She’d spent most of her childhood after the age of five living on various space stations and ships with her adoptive father. Now, if she listened, the forest around her came to life, with things rustling in the undergrowth, birds twittering in the canopy above them. And the air was thick with scents—the sharp pungent odor of the pine trees, something earthy. Everyone else had collapsed, but she felt energized, as though her skin was too tight. She didn’t think she could sit still right now.

Quinn was seated on the ground, next to Kaitlin. His eyes were closed, his mouth tight, and a bottle of amber liquid hung from his hand. His hair was ruffled, and his cheeks shadowed. As she watched, he reached up and tentatively touched his arm, a wince twisting his face. He’d been injured in the crash. It was time to see how badly, whether he liked it or not.

She strode toward him, picking up the first aid kit on the way. As she came to a halt, he opened his eyes, and a smile curved his lips. “Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” she said back. Intelligent conversation. “We need to look at your arm.”

She’d half expected him to do the tough guy thing and say he didn’t need looking at, but he just nodded. He blew out his breath and screwed the top on his bottle, then put it down beside him. Leaning forward, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and dragged it over his head, wadding it in his hands.

Wow.

Right then she was glad, like really glad, that he couldn’t read her mind. Because he was quite the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Wide shoulders, golden skin taut over the swell of muscle. A smattering of black, silky hair.

“Close your mouth, Mel.” The voice came from the other side of Quinn. Kaitlin. Mel had completely forgotten she had an audience. Kaitlin was grinning. Mel glanced away quickly, ignoring the comment, though she did close her mouth. She looked back at Quinn, concentrating on the wound; his arm was a bloody mess. The angry-looking cut was still seeping blood.

“Ouch,” she murmured.

“You’re supposed to say something like—you’re so brave, Quinn.” Kaitlin again.

Quinn’s lips twitched. “Shut up, brat.”

Mel sank to her knees beside him and opened the first aid kit, which looked like it could cover just about any situation. Mel had medical training as part of her job, but much of the stuff appeared strange, and she was guessing medicine had changed a lot in a few thousand years. She studied the cut for a minute. It needed cleaning, and then it needed closing. What she wouldn’t have given for some spray-on skin. And wasn’t there a chance of infection? Did she need to give him something? Maybe she should pass the job onto Liz or Pete.

She must have looked a little lost because Quinn spoke up. “Just clean it, then we can decide if it needs stitches.

“Stitches?” Ugh. Really? They were that primitive?

“Yeah. You never sewn anything?”

“Never.”

“Well, there’s a first time. Luckily, we don’t get infections,” Quinn said. “Some sort of immunity. We all have it.”

“That’s good.”

She poured cleanser onto a pad and pressed it to his arm, then wiped it away, repeating the process a few times.

“I won’t break,” he murmured.

She pressed harder, scrubbing away the dried blood, revealing a cut maybe four inches long, through the muscle of his upper arm. It was quite deep and done by something relatively blunt, going by the rough edges. It must hurt.

“You’re so brave,” she whispered, and he grinned, then twisted around and peered at the wound, a frown forming between his eyes.

“It probably does need stitching, but it’s going to be hard with those edges. I think we should just put a tight bandage on it for now, hold it together. Hopefully we’ll be out of here tomorrow and I can get it looked at properly.”

He was probably right. It wasn’t life threatening, and no doubt appeared worse than it was. She found a wide bandage and wound it tightly around his arm, drawing the edges together as best she could. She fastened it off, and he flexed the arm. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Her stomach rumbled. Loudly.

“Why don’t you go investigate that bag of food?” he said. “Sort us out something to eat before it gets dark.”

She rose to her feet and found the bag beside Martin’s stretcher. His eyes were closed again, but this looked like normal sleep. Likely, he was exhausted. He’d appeared tired when she’d interviewed him in the prison, and he’d hardly had a relaxing time since. She carried the heavy bag back and found that Pete and Liz had joined them, forming a little circle. Liz shuffled to the side to allow her to sit next to Quinn. He’d put his bloody T-shirt back on—it wasn’t an improvement. Mel sank to the ground and opened the bag, tipping the contents on the ground.

“I’ll have chocolate,” Kaitlin said. Mel tossed her a bar, and she caught it easily. Everyone else selected what they wanted. Mel got a bag of potato chips, some cheese wrapped in plastic, and a packet of biscuits. She added an apple to her pile. She glanced up to find Quinn watching her, his lips curved in a small smile. “I’m hungry,” she said.

They all ate in silence for a few minutes. The food in this time was so different. The space station rations she’d grown up on had been nutritious but hardly tasty. But then her adoptive father came from a species that didn’t have taste buds. Now hers were going into overload.

“Are we in danger?” Liz asked. “I mean, they blew up the plane. Are they going to come after us?”

“Probably,” Quinn replied. “But the sun is going down, and they won’t find us in the dark. I think we’re safe for the night.”

“And in the morning?”

“We’ll get out of here. We should be okay if we stay off the tracks. We’ll hear them coming.”

She wanted to ask how far off they could pick up other people, but presumably Liz and Pete were unaware of the telepathy thing, and it wasn’t her secret to tell. “How good is your hearing?” she asked.

“Mine is very good,” Kaitlin replied.

“So for now, we’re safe,” Liz said. “Thank Christ, because I need a drink.” She rummaged in the bag and came out with a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew. “No glasses, I’m afraid. But I think under the circumstances, we can risk a few germs.” She took out the cork, put the bottle to her mouth and took a long swallow, then passed it to Pete. She opened a second and handed it to Mel. For a moment, Mel hesitated, then gave a mental shrug, lifted the bottle to her lips, and drank. The taste was strange, but good, rich and deep. She took another swallow, then passed it to Quinn. She watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He held it out to Kaitlin, but she shook her head. “I’ll stick with my scotch. It goes better with chocolate.”

Quinn handed the bottle back to Mel, and she drank some more. If she concentrated, she could feel the vague buzz in her brain. She liked it and took another swig.

“What was today about?” Pete asked. “You say you’re FBI, so why isn’t the place crawling with agents trying to find you?”

Good question. She glanced at Quinn and he shrugged. “I suppose you deserve to know something.” He shifted on the ground, trying to get comfortable and no doubt give himself time to think. “About a year ago, an oversight committee was set up to look into a covert operations group who worked for the British government, but who were funded from various places, including the U.S. In the middle of the investigation, the committee was disbanded. And subsequently, all the members of that committee met accidental deaths.”

“Which I’m guessing weren’t accidental,” Pete said.

“No. They were murdered. Mel is investigating those murders, but there are people within the FBI who don’t want the truth to come out, so she’s having to work under the radar.”

“Makes sense. So where do you fit in?”

“We”—he waved a hand to encompass Kaitlin—“were part of the covert operations group. We…disbanded shortly before the murders. But the same people who wanted the committee dead, want us out of the way. We’re helping Mel with her investigation in the hope that it will get us in the clear as well.”

Pete drank some wine, studying him and Kaitlin. “She seems awfully young to be part of a covert operations group.”

“I’m just aging well,” Kaitlin said.

“Hmm. What sort of covert ops?”

“That’s classified.”

“Humph,” Kaitlin snorted. “I always wanted to say that. But honestly”—she turned her attention to Pete—“you really don’t want to know.”

“I do,” Liz said.

“If we get out of this,” Quinn said. “I’ll tell you.”

“I can’t wait for that conversation,” Kaitlin muttered.

All around them, the light was fading and along with it, the heat of the day. Mel wrapped her arms around herself as Liz got up. She collected the blankets and handed them around.

“Do we need to set a guard?” Pete asked.

“I’ll stay awake,” Quinn said. “You all go to sleep. I’ll wake you at dawn.”

“Are you sure? We can split the night.”

“I won’t sleep anyway. Too much to think about.”

“I’ll bet. Okay, good night then.”

He and Liz drifted off to the far side of the clearing and lay down facing each other.

“Are you going to sleep?” Mel asked Kaitlin. “How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad if I don’t move.” She smirked. “I’ll close my eyes anyway, so feel free to get up close and personal with Quinn. I won’t be watching.” With that, she slowly lowered herself to a prone position and pulled the blanket over her head.

Mel turned her attention to Quinn and found him smiling. “Have you two known each other long?” she asked.

He nodded. “When I was sixteen, I moved into a compound just outside London with the rest of the Tribe. Kaitlin and her brother were already there. She was six at the time. A totally precocious six.”

“Hey, I might have my eyes closed, but I can still hear.” The words were muffled by the blanket.

“Put your fingers in your ears, then,” Quinn answered. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders then held one side up. “Come sit with me.”

She didn’t hesitate. The night was almost dark now, but filled with sounds, including the constant buzz of insects. Quinn wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close, tugging the blanket around them both. She put hers over their knees, and for a few minutes, just snuggled down. She’d never done this before, just for the sake of being close to someone. It made her feel sort of warm and fuzzy, though that could have been the alcohol.

“Where is Kaitlin’s brother?” she asked.

“Sam’s dead.”

“Oh.” She glanced over at the bundle of blankets, but Kaitlin said nothing. “I’m sorry.”

“Sam was the best of us and the youngest. It was his death that made us realize everything was going wrong and we had to get out of there.”

“He didn’t die for nothing, then.”

“No.” He sighed. “Why don’t you try to sleep?”

She didn’t think she could, but she closed her eyes anyway as Quinn pulled her closer against his side. His arm was around her, and he slipped his hand over hers, tightening his fingers around her palm. She’d never held hands with anyone in her life before, but a sense of comfort flowed through her. For a minute, she tried to fight it. Tomorrow, they needed to find out who was behind this, and there would no doubt be tough decisions to make.

But she was finding the touch of another seductive and addictive.

She’d worry about those tough decisions tomorrow. For now, she’d relax.

And she slept.