Chapter Three

Mel came awake suddenly, but some instinct made her keep her eyes closed. She could sense someone watching her, and she didn’t want them to know she was conscious.

What had happened?

And where was she?

They were moving. She breathed in, her nostrils filling with the scent of diesel. And people. And heat. It was a warm day and the vehicle wasn’t air conditioned.

Nausea rose in her throat, but she pushed it down.

They hadn’t killed her. So presumably, they must want her for something. She had less than twelve hours before her check-in time. Somehow, she had to get away by then. Either that, or she’d have to delay the check-in. But that would trigger a series of protocols she’d rather not set in motion.

“She’s awake,” a man said. She recognized Martin Rayleigh’s voice.

She gave up the pretense then and opened her eyes. All she saw were feet and legs. One set in orange—presumably belonging to Martin. The other in dark gray suit pants and black shoes. Obviously, the man who had attacked her. Okay, so she’d attacked him first.

Her head hurt, and her chest ached. But she didn’t appear to be seriously hurt. And she wasn’t restrained in any way. As the thought passed through her mind, someone reached down and pulled her upright. She saw Rayleigh watching her with maybe a hint of sympathy in his eyes, and then her vision was gone. Something soft was wrapped around her eyes and tied behind her head.

She was hauled first to her feet, her hands dragged in front of her and cuffed, and then she was pushed down onto a seat.

She needed to work out a plan of action. But what to tell them? Who were they, anyway? She had a bad feeling about this and couldn’t afford to ignore her intuition. It had gotten her out of trouble numerous times. But that same intuition told her these were not bad people. Still, she had to come up with a story that would persuade them to let her go. Maybe she—

The control panel on her wrist vibrated against her skin. She went still at the alarm. An unidentified anomaly. The vibration was increasing in frequency, buzzing a warning that whoever was around was getting closer. Someone was following them and gaining. There should be no one else here. No other agents had been scheduled.

Shit.

What the hell was she supposed to do? This was not part of the plan. Could she risk that they were here to help? No. “Drive faster.”

“What?”

“There’s someone following. You need to go faster.”

“How the hell…?”

“It doesn’t matter—just go.”

But the driver had already put their foot down, and the vehicle was speeding up. Mel had an idea that whoever they were, these people were used to the unusual. The vehicle turned suddenly with a sharp squeal of tires, and she slid across the seat and banged into something—or rather someone—solid. An arm on her shoulder steadied her, pushing her back into her place. But the weirdest pulse of electricity shot through her from the point of contact. Then the vehicle straightened, and the man let go as they accelerated again.

At least the vibration was now muted to a soft hum and as the minutes passed, it faded completely.

They’d lost whoever it was, for the time being.

Her mind went back to the first sight of her captors…and that brief sense of recognition. Her immediate thought had been that she was compromised, or more likely, that someone else had been sent as backup. That had only lasted a few seconds, though, because while the man’s appearance was familiar, she didn’t recognize him. Plus, he hadn’t set off her alarm. He’d been strong and fast, but she’d sensed he wasn’t giving his all. She might have even taken him, if his friend hadn’t tasered her from behind. She lifted her cuffed hands to rub at her chest where she could still feel the dull ache.

“Are you okay?”

She wished she could see him.

How should she play this? She didn’t think weak and pathetic would work, not after their fight. Surly? Strong and silent?

“I’ll live.”

“Good.” He sounded young, with no hint of an accent. He’d looked young. Probably a year or so younger than her thirty-two years. They swerved again, and she was knocked against him. She pulled herself away quickly. “You can slow down now,” she said. “You’ve lost them.” As soon as the words were out, she realized she should have stayed quiet. She had no way to explain how she knew. Well, there was a way, but not one she was willing to share.

The vehicle slowed.

“How did you know someone was following us?” the man beside her asked.

Good question. “It’s an FBI thing.”

A snort came from the front of the vehicle. Time to change the subject. “Are you going to let me go? You are aware that it’s a federal violation to imprison an FBI agent?”

“We’ll let you go as soon as we can. I promise, you won’t be harmed.”

The person in the front of the van snorted again. Presumably the woman who had tasered her. Mel owed her one. “Who are you people?” she asked.

“You don’t need to know,” the man said.

Actually, she did.

He wasn’t making a blip on her alarm system, but there was something out of place here. His looks, and those of his girlfriend—the black hair and blue eyes—were too familiar to the Tel-group of her time. A coincidence? She didn’t believe in coincidences.

She had to persuade them to release her, and soon. How? “Where are we going?”

“Best you don’t know.”

Looked like there was a lot she didn’t need to know.

She was unlikely to get any more from them. The rest of the people in the van fell silent. She was sure they had things to talk about but were clearly not going to do it in front of her. Or were they already talking, and she just couldn’t hear them? She tested the cuffs, but they were metal. No way was she getting out of there. She’d just have to bide her time and hope she could persuade them to let her go.

After what seemed about an hour, the van slowed and finally came to a halt. A minute later, the man beside her stood up, clasped her arm, and pulled her to her feet. She bent her head and shuffled in front of him. Fresh air flowed in as the back door was opened.

“Wait a second,” her captor said and brushed past her. Hands clasped her around the waist, and she was lifted down from the vehicle. He held her for a moment while her legs steadied, then released his grip. She stood, breathing in deeply. They were outside, but somewhere in the city; she could smell the dense fumes in the air and experienced that closed-in feeling of too many people, too close together. Boston at a guess. That was the only city close enough.

Until she knew what and who they were, she couldn’t decide on a course of action. Though she was pretty sure that they were friends of Martin Rayleigh, and not enemies. She’d been caught in the middle of a rescue.

“Come on,” the man said, wrapping a hand around her elbow. He led her up some stone steps, then paused while someone unlocked a door. After pushing her gently inside, he took her arm again.

“What are you going to do with her?” the woman asked.

“Lock her in the basement for the moment. It’s the only place we can secure.”

They were moving again. He opened a door, then a second, nudging her in front of him. “There’s a staircase,” he said.

She shuffled, feeling for each step, her cuffed hands off to one side, sliding along the wall. Finally, she reached the bottom, and he leaned past her and opened another door. The air smelled musty, as though the place wasn’t used much.

She stepped inside, and he followed her in, as the door clicked shut behind him. Mel stood for a second, then his hands tugged at the band around her eyes. She blinked a couple of times, letting her eyes adjust to the light.

He stood only inches away, about half a foot taller than her so she had to crane her neck to look into his face. Her eyes caught his. They were the deepest midnight blue. He had high cheekbones, a big, bony nose, a long clean jaw, and a beautiful mouth.

She stopped short at the thought. Since when had she thought of mouths as beautiful? Especially mouths belonging to possible suspects. She was just off balance. The day had not gone as planned.

He was returning her inspection. His hand reached out, swept over her cheekbone, and a tingle ran through her. That was just her skin, sensitive where she could feel a bruise forming. The woman had hit her when she’d regained consciousness back in the interrogation room. Yes, she definitely owed her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You need any painkillers?”

She wished he wouldn’t be so nice. Who knew who and what he was, and whether she would have to eliminate him somewhere down the line? “I said I’m fine.”

He gave a curt nod. “I need to go talk to some people and then I’ll be back.”

“Goody.”

He flashed her an amused glance. “In the meantime—make yourself comfortable.” But as he was talking, he reached out and took her cuffed wrists. He led her toward one wall, and quickly unlocked the right cuff, slipped it through a pipe that ran around the room, and re-cuffed her. He glanced around, then moved away, coming back a second later with a chair which he placed beside her. “I’ll be back,” he said and turned to go.

She watched as he strode across the room, moving with the fluid grace of a trained soldier. He opened the door and disappeared without a backward glance.

Mel sank into the chair and looked around her, taking stock of her little prison, though it was actually a spacious room, used for recreation, she guessed. It had a huge flat TV on one wall, a couple of big leather sofas and a coffee table. The walls were bare brick painted white and they were just below ground level because there was a narrow strip of window along one wall. It was barred, but she could see the blue sky through the glass.

The air left her lungs in a huge sigh and she slumped in the seat. She’d begged the captain for this job. Now it looked like she’d messed up.

How the hell could she get things back on track?

Who were these people?

And who had been following them?

She rattled her cuffed wrists. She wanted answers, but she wasn’t going to get them tied up down here.