Chapter Fifteen

Quinn spent the night staring into the darkness. It occurred to him that it was the first entire night he’d ever spent with a woman in his arms.

He’d always felt doing that was taking intimacy too far. Sex was okay, but actually holding someone through the long hours of the night? That was something entirely different. He wasn’t sure what had changed. He’d always believed that what they were precluded them from having any normal relationships. When they’d worked for the government, they had been held to secrecy, and he’d never wanted a relationship built on a lie.

Besides, their way of life had hardly been conducive to getting up close and personal with anyone other than someone within their group.

Now, he loved the way she felt in his arms. She was in a deep sleep, her breathing slow and even. She trusted him to keep her safe, and he liked that, as well. Tomorrow, he had to somehow get them all out of here…which would be a hell of a lot easier if he had any idea who and what was after them. Despite the fact that their old enemies were now allies, they still never seemed to run out of people wanting to kill them. It was getting tiring. His money was on rogue Conclave, trying to build a new power base. A few telepaths under their control would give them a powerful advantage. Likely they’d decided that Quinn and his people—most of them trained soldiers—were too much trouble. So the plan was to eliminate them and go after the unprotected members of the original tribe.

It sort of made sense.

Or maybe it was someone else entirely, who believed they had a good reason to want them all dead. Something to do with Kane’s mission, perhaps.

It was enough to do his head in.

But he reckoned for tonight, they were safe. Even so, he’d keep watch. He did a quick scan of the area, but there was no one else near.

He didn’t want to sleep anyway. This might never be repeated, but for tonight, he had Special Agent Lyons in his arms and he liked it. Hell, he liked her. He liked the way she’d acted today. Even the way she had admitted her terror of the water and let him help her deal with it.

He found himself smiling into the darkness.

“I think she likes you, too,” Kaitlin murmured from under her blanket.

“Go to sleep,” he replied.

There was no further sound from her, and he cleared his mind, pulled Melody a little closer and relaxed.

“Quinn!”

His name sounded in his head. Kaitlin. He blinked and sat up straighter. The night had been stygian dark, the canopy cutting out even the starlight. But dawn was coming. He could just make out the shape of the tree trunks forming out of the darkness.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There’s someone coming.”

“How far?” Kaitlin was the strongest among them—she could pick up thoughts much farther out than he could.

“About a mile. Sorry. I was asleep. Otherwise I would have picked them up sooner.”

“Will they find us?”

“Yes. They’ve already discovered the raft.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

They had two pistols between them. Should they run? But they’d have to carry Kaitlin and they would never outrun their pursuers with only a mile head start.

“I’d like to do the honorable thing and say leave me behind, but sod that.”

He smiled into the darkness. “Damn. There goes plan number one.”

“What’s plan number two?”

“Give me a moment and I’ll come up with it.”

“Make it quick.”

Whoever was after them could have no clue how many had survived the crash. Quinn could use that and set up an ambush. Except they wanted everyone dead. Hell, they could just blow the entire camp, which meant they couldn’t leave anyone here. Mel was still asleep beside him, and he gave her a gentle shake, felt her come awake, a ripple of tension running through her body.

“Good morning,” she murmured, pushing herself away from him.

He rubbed at his arm, which had gone numb where she’d been leaning on him, and she shifted away.

“We’ve got company heading our way,” Quinn said.

“What do you want me to do?”

He definitely liked her. “Go wake the others. Get them over here.”

She nodded and got to her feet, heading over to Martin first. She gave him a little shake, spoke to him briefly, then moved on to where Liz and Pete lay across the clearing.

“Are they still heading this way?” he asked Kaitlin.

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and caught the murmur of minds. They were in the distance but getting closer. He got to his feet as the others approached. First, they had to get Kaitlin a safe distance away. He nodded to Pete. “We have four people headed this way. We’ve got to presume they plan to kill us.”

“How do you know it’s not a rescue party?” Liz asked.

“Believe me, I know.” For a second, he thought she was going to argue, but then she closed her mouth. She had no clue what was happening, but she knew it was something strange. And she’d seen the plane blow up, so she was aware of their pursuers’ intentions. Which meant she had no choice but to trust him, even if she wasn’t happy about it.

“I want to get Kaitlin away,” he said. “Then we’ll set up a fake camp. We only have two weapons against four. Pete and I will circle around the back and take them as they attack the camp.” He looked at Mel as he spoke, wondering whether she would argue the case for going with him, but Pete had combat experience. Even as an FBI agent, it was likely Mel had never actually killed anyone, and he didn’t want her finding out she couldn’t pull the trigger this morning. Some people killed with ease, some learned, some would never be killers. But she merely nodded and pulled the pistol from the back of her pants and handed it to Pete.

How far was safe?

He nodded to Pete and together they picked up Kaitlin’s stretcher.

“Can you set up the camp?” he said to Mel. “They shouldn’t know how many of us there are. Maybe make three bodies?”

“Of course. Go.”

The bad guys were coming from the north, and so they took Kaitlin south, up a slight incline that would lead them around the rocky outcrop. When they’d gone about a quarter of a mile, he decided it was enough and put her down close to a huge tree trunk. Then he helped her sit up. “Stay here,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, and I was thinking of going for a walk.”

“We’ll send the others. If we don’t come back, just get the hell out of here. Get better and—”

“Find the bastards and kill them.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be okay. Go do your stuff.”

He nodded, and they ran back to the camp. He could pick up the people tracking them easily now, and he homed in on the leader of the group. The man wasn’t thinking about much other than the coming attack; he was focused, professional. And out to kill them. Quinn tried to delve deeper, get some idea of who they were, but from this distance, he just wasn’t powerful enough. Maybe Kaitlin would have something when this was over.

Mel, Liz, and Martin were waiting when they got back to the camp. They’d used blankets and set up three pretty impressive sleeping forms, one on the stretcher. It might fool someone from a distance, but not close up. Hopefully it would be good enough.

“Head straight south and you’ll find Kaitlin about a quarter of a mile away. Wait there with her. If we’re not back in half an hour, get her the hell out of here.” Though if he and Pete failed, he doubted the others would get away. Which meant they couldn’t fail. He crossed the space between him and Mel.

“I bet you’re glad you decided to come fly with us,” he said.

She snorted. “I am so glad. But we’ll get out of this.”

He couldn’t resist. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek in his palm, then lowered his head and kissed her lips. She stood unmoving for long seconds, then he sighed and straightened. “I was starting to believe there were no good guys left, that there was no one to trust. We’d been lied to so much. I’m glad I met you.”

Something flickered in her eyes but was gone before he could identify it. Her smile was a little forced. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You will.” He nodded to Martin. “Some rescue, huh?”

“I stand by my comment of yesterday—I’d rather die here than spend another day in prison. But all the same, I’d really rather we didn’t die today. Jake always said you were the best in the field. Get out there and prove him right.”

He watched as they turned away and quickly disappeared into the trees. He concentrated for a moment, picked up the thoughts of the men coming. There were two sets of two. They’d split up and were coming at them from different angles.

He couldn’t afford for them to get too close to the fake camp and maybe track the others. He turned to Pete. “I want you to go hide in the tree line beyond the camp. Make sure no one gets past you.” He had a quick look in the man’s mind, but there were no problems. Pete was committed to this and saw the sense in the instructions.

“Okay. What’s the plan?”

It was weird—he was used to working with Jake or one of the others, and there was never any need to discuss what they were going to do. They would just be in each other’s minds, knowing their thoughts, their moves, almost as they decided on them together.

“I’m going to get behind them. They’ve split into two groups—”

“How do you know that?” Pete shook his head. “Don’t bother answering. I’m guessing it’s a long story. “

“Yeah. Some other time. I’ll let the first group get here. As they arrive, I’ll deal with the second. When you hear my shots, take them down.” He’d really like to have been able to keep one of them alive, but he didn’t want anything to hinder Pete taking them out of action—that was the most important thing. He’d try and keep one of his two—which included the leader and their best bet for retrieving anything useful—alive.

Quinn didn’t wait for Pete to go, but just turned and headed into the trees, moving at a fast lope and in an arc that would take him to a point behind the pair farthest out. As he moved, he pulled the pistol out from where it was tucked in the small of his back. It was a model he’d used before, and he flicked off the safety without slowing, running with it hanging loose at his side. The ground was a soft bed of pine needles and his feet didn’t make a sound.

He kept his mind focused on the thoughts in front of him. It took only minutes to get behind them, and he slowed to match their pace. The front two were coming up on the clearing. He didn’t want to give them time to find out the camp was empty and warn the others. He peered into their minds, saw the moment they spotted the camp, slowed, realized nothing was moving. He increased his pace. Something must have warned the two men, because they whirled around, guns aimed. He had no choice. He took the first out with a bullet to the head, and then the second before the man had a chance to process what was going on.

He heard shots up ahead. Pete was engaging with the other two, and Quinn raced through the trees, not worrying now if he made any noise. It was doubtful anything would be heard beneath the roar of gunfire.

He came out into the clearing, taking in what was happening in moments. One man was down, but Pete was out in the open. Something hit him. The pistol spun from his hand, and he whirled around, crashing to the ground. Quinn swung toward the attacker, aimed and fired, and the fourth man went down. Unfortunately, he was dead. They weren’t going to get any information from him. He reached out to Pete; the co-pilot was only winged, his mind crammed with pain, but still functioning. He was crawling toward his dropped weapon.

Quinn did a brief check but there was no one else. They’d done it. Which was just as well, since he’d used the last of his ammunition.

“Watch out!” Pete called.

He turned quickly as a man stepped out of the trees, a gun held at arm’s length. Shit. Where the hell had he come from? He wasn’t picking up anything from the man’s head. Everything seemed to slow. He could see the finger tightening on the trigger. This was it. He instinctively hurled himself to the side as the first bullet whizzed past him. But the man was already aiming again, and there was no cover.

Then someone leaped out of the trees. Mel. She moved fast, kicking the man in the stomach. He went down, still holding the weapon. Pete fired from across the clearing, and the man collapsed.

Quinn ran over and stared down. The man had taken a bullet in the thigh and was clutching his leg. He’d taken another in the throat. Quinn looked higher and caught the glint of silver in the man’s hair. He went still. Well, there was the reason he hadn’t picked up the fifth man. He was wearing a reflector device, which effectively blocked off their ability to read him. They’d been developed by the Conclave back in the days when the Tribe had been working for the British government—or rather when they’d thought they had been working for the British government. When their controllers had started wearing the reflector devices—that was when they should have realized that everything was going to crap and gotten the hell out of there. But they hadn’t.

Because they’d believed they were working for the good guys.

Looking back, he couldn’t believe how naive they’d been.

Though he knew why. They had seen so much shitty stuff that they’d had to justify it somehow. A world with no more lies. That had been their goal. The bad stuff was just a way forward; it would all be worth it in the end.

But could the end ever justify the means?

He’d seen enough gunshot wounds to know these were terminal. He hunkered down and ripped off the reflector device.

The man was conscious, the knowledge of his own death in his eyes.

Conclave.

That was no surprise. His job was to stop them reaching the old tribe. The Conclave had been hunting them for years, since before Martin was imprisoned. This man believed they were closing in on their location, narrowing down their exact position. And he was here to ensure that Quinn and his little group did not get to them first.

Unfortunately, this man wasn’t privy to the location.

There was nothing else of interest that Quinn could find. The man’s mind was shutting down, and Quinn came out of there fast. He didn’t want to feel the moment of death.

He was gone by the time Quinn straightened. Mel stood beside him, staring down. He couldn’t read her expression and wished, not for the first time, that he knew what she was thinking.

“Thanks,” he said. “You saved my life back there.”

“I thought I’d come and see if I could be of help.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Pete approached them. He wasn’t seriously injured, which was good—they still had to get out of there.

Something nagged at his mind as they headed back to the others. If it was the Conclave who were after them, how had they found them at the safe house last night? How had they tracked them to the plane?

“What’s the matter?” Mel asked. “You’re frowning.”

“Just thinking things through. Wondering how they found us last night and today.”

As they came upon the rest of the group, his gaze fixed on Martin. He rubbed his chin as an idea formulated in his mind.

Could there be some sort of tracking device on Martin?

Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Because that was like something from a goddamned James Bond movie, that was why.

He strolled over and came to a halt in front of Martin. They would have had to drug him to do it, but how hard was that in a prison environment? Still, it had to be somewhere he wouldn’t notice. Quinn studied the other man for a moment.

“What?” Martin asked.

“Turn around.”

Martin raised a brow, but turned slowly, and Quinn stepped closer. He ran his fingers along the back of Martin’s skull, just beneath the hairline. There was substantial bruising, presumably sustained in the plane crash. But beneath that, he felt a hard lump.

“Is there some sort of scalpel in the first aid kit?” he asked Liz.

She went across, crouched down and rummaged through it, then came back a minute later with a scalpel, cotton wool, disinfectant, and a pair of tweezers. She was a useful woman to have around. He glanced up and found everyone watching him.

He took the scalpel. “Sorry about this,” he said to Martin. “It’s going to sting a little.”

“Do it.”

He took a deep breath, ran his fingers over the slight lump, then slipped in the blade of the scalpel. Blood welled up around the wound, and he wiped it away with the cotton. Catching the flicker of silver, he widened the cut a little. He reached out, and Liz took the scalpel and handed him the tweezers. Martin’s shoulders were locked solid, but a shudder ran through him as Quinn probed with the tweezers. The object was slippery, but he finally got a grip and tugged. It came free. Small, round and flat, with a distinct dent in the middle—from the blow to Martin’s head?

As he stepped back, Martin turned and stared at the thing in Quinn’s hand. “They bugged me?” He sounded outraged, which was almost amusing, considering everything else they’d done to him.

“Looks like it. Well, at least that explains how they found us last night and tracked us to the plane.”

“But why didn’t they find us on the lake?” Mel asked.

“It’s been damaged, presumably when Martin hit his head in the crash. I’m guessing they lost the link for a while. So that bang on the head probably saved our lives.”

He dropped the device onto a stone and ground it under his boot. “Just in case.”

It was time to go. Hopefully without any hangers on, this time. They had to get out of here, then find out if there was any further response to Martin’s attempt to contact the tribe. It looked like it was going to be a race to get to them before they were found by the rogue Conclave.

“Let’s go pick up Kaitlin and get the hell out of here,” he said. “I’ve had enough of nature.”