Scott grabbed the back of her head firmly in his hand, yanked her mouth down hard onto his. Her lips splayed open to him under the sudden pressure. Her legs split wider as she was pulled down over his groin.
A groan rose from deep in his belly. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, deep, roughly exploring. She was hot. Sweet. Slightly fruity with the taste of warm champagne. His tongue slipped over hers. Danced. Mated. And he felt as though his loins would explode without the same hot, slick sweetness.
Her pelvis rocked slowly against his, forcing rhythmic pressure onto the painful swollenness of his need. His vision went black. Red.
And he felt her hand, sliding up the inside of his thigh. Then he felt her fingers, deft, undoing his buttons, working to lower his zipper.
He couldn’t breathe.
He felt himself swell out of the confines of his jeans into her soft hand.
He snapped suddenly to his senses, jerked back, pushed her away. “Skye…no!”
She jolted back. Shocked, lips swollen and hot-pink. Confusion clouded eyes dusky with silver and lust.
He reached for his zipper, fumbled to contain his blatantly obvious male need.
She watched his hand. Said nothing. But the question was raw in the set of her features.
He reached up, touched the side of her face. “I’m sorry, Skye. I can’t—”
She jerked out from under his touch, looked away, hiding naked hurt. And something else. He could see it in the faint blush that crept up her neck into her cheeks.
Embarrassment.
Scott cursed himself. He’d just rejected a woman who’d been ditched at the altar. He couldn’t begin to imagine how she was feeling. But that was precisely why he couldn’t do this. As much as he wanted, needed, to. As much as he needed to strip her naked, expose her deepest, innermost sweet secrets. As much as it might help him get to know her better. He couldn’t take advantage of her like this.
“Skye, talk to me, look at me.”
She did, turning her head slowly back to face him. When she did, she was an absolute study in self-control. Those silver eyes didn’t flinch. Instead they lanced into his. But she said nothing. She waited for him to speak.
“Skye, you’re one of the sexiest, most damn desirable women I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I just can’t do this to you. You’re bouncing like a bungee on the rebound, for heaven’s sake. I don’t think it’s me you want.”
It’s protection from whatever waits outside that you want.
Anger flashed in her eyes. “You think I need some kind of self-affirmation? You think I need to prove I’m still a desirable woman? Is that it?”
“No.” He reached out to touch her. “I’ll stay the night Skye, if that’s what you want, if you want someone just to be here.”
She lurched to her feet. “Get out.”
“Skye—”
“I said get out, McIntyre. You and that wretched dog. Leave me alone.”
He got to his feet, hobbled over to get his cane. She watched, unmoving.
“I’m next door if you need me, Skye.” And he meant it.
“You think I’m that pathetic? I don’t need your pity.” She spat the words at him.
“Fine. Honey!” The dog raised herself grudgingly at the command in his tone, left the warmth of the fire.
“We’re outta here.” He limped to the door, shoved it open.
“Here.” She thrust his jacket at his chest. “Take this with you. I don’t need you. I don’t need your damn jacket.”
He took it, stepped out into the dark with his dog.
* * *
Skye slammed the door behind him. Only then did she realize she was shaking. The room was suddenly cavernously empty. And dark. Save for the quavering apricot glow of the flames he’d built in her hearth. And her belly.
She slumped against the door.
She’d gambled. And lost. She’d tried to seduce him to get him to stay the night. And she’d lost. Control.
Dignity.
She’d thought she could handle it. But nothing could have prepared her for the explosive energy she’d unearthed in him. It had blown her apart like a wooden shed in a tornado. Consumed her. Blinded her.
And then he’d rejected her. Because he was too much a gentleman. Confusion warred in her brain. She’d sent him away in a surge of fury fuelled by humiliation, but all she really wanted right now was for him to hold her again. Like he had last night. And tell her it would all be all right.
No one had ever held her like that.
She touched her fingers to her mouth, still hot and swollen from his aggressive kiss. That would teach her to play Russian roulette with a man like McIntyre, with her own libido. That would teach her to open doors she didn’t know how to shut.
She pushed away from the door, moved quickly to the window and lifted the blind with the backs of her fingers. She watched the large dark shadow of Scott McIntyre and his dog make its way across her lawn.
The moonlight was pale gold on Honey’s fur. The man leaned heavily on his cane as he moved with a wide, angry gait. In spite of his injury, he was sheer male. Rough. Hard. Even the emerald glint in his eyes held the coldness of stone in unguarded moments. She’d glimpsed a calculating man in those eyes. She was profoundly unsure about him.
But by God, he made her feel as no other man had.
He had the dark sexual power of Malik. He had the same hard edge. But Malik’s eyes were black like a demon’s heart. Not deep green like Scott McIntyre’s. She’d glimpsed hints of hidden laughter in Scott McIntyre’s eyes. Maybe even pain that went beyond his knee, beyond the physical.
It made him strangely vulnerable, accessible.
Malik’s raw energy was about power, control. It was destructive. Negative. It had near killed her.
Might yet kill her.
She tore her attention from Scott’s dark form to scan the road for the brown car. It was still there. In the shadow.
Skye dropped the blind, spun on her heels. She had to get out. Now. She checked her bags. She was ready. She would wheel her bike quietly out the back of the garage and over the lawn at the rear of her house. She’d try to get it through the thick brush at the back of her property and onto the adjacent farm field. From there she could make her getaway.
But she had one more task—she had to e-mail Jalil. Her only friend in this world. He was the only one who knew the truth about her. He was the only one she kept in contact with. Because she owed him her life. He’d risked his own to get her out.
Skye pulled out the chair, sat in front of her computer, clicked the screen to life. She was careful what she said in her e-mails to Jalil, for both their sakes. It was always behind a veil that they spoke. They never mentioned the escape. The deception.
She tapped the keys. She told Jalil her wedding was off, that the project she was working on was still a go and that she wouldn’t be writing for a while. She was going away, into the mountains, because she needed a break from things. She needed to reassess her life.
Skye moved the mouse to click Send.
But as an afterthought she highlighted the part about going into the mountains, deleted it, then clicked Send.
It would be early morning in Amsterdam. Jalil would get her message soon. And she’d be long gone when he did.
* * *
From the bridge of the Esmeralda, he could make out the distant, misty green ridges of the Queen Charlottes. He adjusted the telescope. They were almost in position, in international waters off the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America. From the “cargo” ship he often used as a base, he would orchestrate the final stages of Operation Vector.
“A message came through.” His assistant’s voice sliced into his thoughts. “For Jalil.”
He jerked upright. It was always with the e-mails for Jalil that he got his most valuable information. They had stopped coming for a while. But that was all right. Jozsef had been in place. Then he’d received word Canadian authorities were onto his man and he’d had to extract him. Right before the wedding. Still, he was unconcerned the project would be compromised. Operation Vector was far enough along to hold the pieces together. And Jozsef had ensured the tracking device was in place. Two more weeks and all would be accomplished.
He made his way to the cabin that served as his office, seated himself at one of the computer terminals, reached for the mouse, hesitated.
He looked up at the massive oil painting that dominated the one wall of the plush cabin. It was a study of a woman. A woman so regal, so beautiful, she looked like a Greek goddess.
She’d had so much potential. He’d had her painted wearing white, holding her symbol. The sword. At her side was a massive jackal-headed beast in a white Egyptian loincloth.
Anubis. His symbol.
The ears of the jackal were like the gold horns of a devil. The black canine head bared jagged teeth to a world that lay at their feet. Theirs for the taking.
Until she’d crossed him.
He turned abruptly to his computer, clicked open Skye’s message.
* * *
Scott lay naked on his bed, sheets twisted around him. The glowing red symbols on his digital clock taunted. He’d watched them flip from 2:00 a.m. to 3:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m.
He threw off his sheets, kicked his feet over the side of his bed. He’d screwed up. He should’ve taken her lead. She’d opened the door, shown him a way in, and he’d freaking shied away.
Because he couldn’t take advantage of her?
He snorted. Yeah, right.
He rubbed the heels of his hands hard into the grit of his eyes. He really had lost it. He should have used her. Impartially.
But that was the problem. He couldn’t find that impartiality within himself. As much as he tried to deny it, he felt something for the woman.
It was lust. Pure and simple.
But he was lying.
Something had hooked into him when he’d held her in his arms on the night of her failed wedding.
That simple act of holding a soft woman in his arms had cracked open something deep within him. Something that went beyond the haunting pewter of her untamed eyes, beyond the way her seductive curves set every primal nerve singing, every red-blooded male cell in his body screaming with need to bed her hard and fast and long.
He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. Get a grip, Agent. The one rule in this kind of game was that you held the reins of control at all times, that you called the shots, each and every goddamn one of them. Slip and you gave your opponent power.
He stood, limped over to his window. Dawn was barely a hint on the horizon as the sun crept in from far-off lands.
He watched as the first pale rays infused the dark sky with soft blue-gray. He had a job to do. And he better make good of it if he ever wanted to get back out there, over that horizon, into those foreign lands. And that meant keeping any feelings for the doctor in check.
That also meant using any opportunity she handed him.
Dr. Skye Van Rijn was a suspected bio-terrorist. The feds were after her. She was hiding something.
And he was going to get it from her. One way or another.
He was going to show Rex, Bellona, the whole bloody world, that he still had it in him. La Sombra’s men had blown out his knee, not his balls.
He clenched his jaw with fresh determination, reached for a shirt and jeans. The first step was to find out exactly why the feds were tailing her.
Once dressed, Scott limped to the kitchen, clicked on the kettle, poured biscuits into Honey’s bowl and punched in Rex’s number. He stared out at his neighbor’s house as he waited for Rex to pick up.
A sudden movement in the doctor’s yard caught his eye. The men from the brown sedan were marching up her driveway.
Uh-oh. Looked as if he was going to find out firsthand what they were after. He flipped his phone shut as the men climbed the stairs to Skye’s door. They hadn’t even waited until daybreak. They were going for the shock factor.
Scott grabbed his jacket. As his hand touched the leather, he heard a soft rapping at his kitchen door.
Honey yipped.
Scott unlocked the door, started to open it…but before he could register what was happening, Skye barreled through the crack, into his kitchen, knocking him off balance. She dumped her pack on his floor, swiveled, quickly locked the door behind her. Her movements were sharp, controlled. No emotion showed in the set of her features. Only her eyes. They were wide and pale with fear.
She turned to him. “You’ve got to help me.”
“Skye.” He took her shoulders in his hands. “Slow down. What’s the matter?” He knew well enough. Undercover RCMP were banging on her door and she was running for her life. He had her now. Exactly where he wanted her.
Her eyes darted to the window, then back to him. “I’ve got to get out of here, out of Haven. Can you help me? With your truck?”
“Hey, take it easy.” He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “Sit. Talk to me.”
“Could…could you pull those blinds?”
Scott reached for the cord. “Sure.” He dropped the blinds. “Better?”
She nodded.
He took a seat opposite her. Honey milled at their feet, wiggling her butt, sensing adventure.
“Now tell me what’s going on.”
She bit down on her lower lip, studied him. He could see her fighting mentally, deciding what she should dish out to him.
“Those guys in that car, they’re following me.”
“You sure?”
“Dead sure.”
“Why? Who are they?”
“I—I don’t know.”
She was lying. She had to know it was the cops. “Why’re they after you?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
Scott made a face.
“Honest to God, I don’t know. You’ve got to believe me.”
“You must have some idea. Otherwise why are you running like this? Maybe they just want to talk to you.”
“Get real. They’ve been outside my house since yesterday. They followed me to Jozsef’s apartment and back.” The brightness of urgency burned in her eyes. “I need to get out of town. I need a ride. If you can’t help me, I’ll find another way.”
Scott studied her. Her outward control was slipping in front of his eyes. She was a bundle of nerves. He definitely had the upper edge now. He called her bluff. “I can’t help you. You’re not being straight with me.” He got up. “Want some coffee before you go?”
She jerked off her chair, grabbed his arm. “Scott, please. Just a ride out of town. I’ll pay you.”
Scott carefully set the coffee mug back down on the counter and turned to look into her eyes. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
Yes. He had her exactly where he needed her. “Where do you need to go?”
“I need to go to the lab, to Kepplar Biological Control Systems. I need you to wait outside for me while I check on something. Then I need you to drive me north, to some place where I can rent a bike or a truck. I can go the rest of the way on my own.”
“Where are you going?”
“I—I can’t say.”
He turned his back on her. “Forget it. If you can’t trust me, I can’t help you.”
Silence stretched, thick and heavy.
“Scott.”
He turned.
“I don’t know who those men are. I hate to admit it, but yes, I am afraid. For my life. And I’m begging you to help me.”
He pressed the advantage. “But why? What makes you think those men mean you harm?”
“I—I don’t really understand what happened to Jozsef. He’s cleaned out his apartment. I think those men may have something to do with his disappearance. Some weird stuff has been happening in my life. I just need to lay low until I figure out what is going on.”
She was one hell of a liar. If Scott didn’t know for a fact those were undercover officers banging on her door this very minute, he might even have believed her.
“Tell me where you’re going or I can’t help you.”
She hesitated, eyes probing his. “To the mountains.”
“Where in the mountains?”
She gritted her teeth, anger dragging her brow down, forcing the glint of steel into her eyes. “Jesus, McIntyre.”
He shrugged. “Take it or leave it. If I’m in, I’m in all the way. Because whoever those guys are, if I help you, I become a target, too.”
She studied him, eyes wary.
“You owe me that much, Skye. You want my help, the least you can do is trust me.”
Her features shifted. “What’s it to you anyway?”
He stepped forward, lifted his hand, moved a smoky tendril that had fallen across her eye. Her breath caught. She backed up, was stopped by the kitchen table, trapped. Scott stepped in, bent his head, his lips almost touching hers. He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “I like you. That’s what’s in it for me.”
Her top lip quivered. Her breathing became ragged around the edges. “Last night—”
“What I said last night still holds. I don’t take advantage of women on the rebound.” He dropped his voice. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to.”
She swallowed. Her eyes darkened. The thick fringe of her lashes fluttered low. But the instant was fleeting. There was a crash next door. The officers had broken in.
She grabbed control, made her decision fast. “There’s a cabin in the mountains. Up north.”
“Fine. I’ll take you there.”
“It’s far.”
“I’m mobile. No sweat.”
She stared at him blankly.
“I’m a writer, remember? I can work anywhere. Go on, get in the truck while they’re still inside your house. Cab’s open. Lay low. There’s a blanket in there. Cover yourself until I get there.”
She said nothing, hoisted her pack onto her back in one fluid movement and made for the front door, biker boots clunking on the wood floor.
Scott rummaged in the closet for his own backpack. He quickly threw in some gear, including a sleeping bag. He checked his knife, his gun. Honey did whatever she could to trip him up. “Calm down, girl. I’m not leaving you behind. Where the doctor goes, you and I go.” He slipped his satellite phone into his jacket pocket, grabbed Honey’s lead and flipped the light switch.
He stepped out onto the porch, closed the door quietly behind him, locked it. He scanned Skye’s yard in the pale dawn. The feds were nowhere to be seen outside. But inside, lights blazed from every visible window. The cops were probably going through Skye’s things. That told him they had a warrant. That in turn meant they had sufficient evidence she was up to no good.
In the criminal sense.
And he was helping her run from the law. He smiled inwardly. It put him in a mighty strong position. Just the way he liked things. About time something went right with this mission.
He hobbled over to the truck, threw his cane and his pack into the back, yanked open the driver door. Honey bounded in.
* * *
A jolt shot through Skye as the cab door opened. She peered out from under the blanket just in time to reach out and stop Honey from sticking a paw in her eye. The dog scrambled over her, confused, looking for a place to put her hairy butt. Skye realized she’d taken Honey’s spot in the cab. She fought off the blanket and struggled up into a sitting position, making room for the dog.
Scott’s heavy hand shoved her right back down to the seat as he fired the ignition. “Keep down, dammit.”
She cowered back down under the blanket, felt the truck jounce down the driveway and onto the road.
She was in one tight spot. The static of the blanket made her hair cling to her face, she had dog fur in her mouth, dog claws in her back. But that was the least of it. She was being forced to trust this man. This enigmatic man around whom she couldn’t even trust herself.
“Okay, you can sit up now, coast is clear. Which way to the lab?”
Skye shoved the blanket aside and sat up. Honey maneuvered quickly into the space between her and Scott. “Take a right on the Coast Road,” she said, trying to smooth her hair down, straining for some form of composure.
Other than giving directions to the Kepplar labs she said nothing. Neither did he.
She stole a glance at his profile. His granite features told her nothing, either. But she saw the way his eyes kept flicking up to the rearview mirror, watching for a tail. He seemed adept at this kind of game. Way too adept.
She had to get away from him as soon as they were far enough north.
Scott drove through the gates of the Kepplar compound and pulled into the lab parking lots. They were deserted apart from the vehicles used by night security staff.
“Not here,” she said. “Go around back. There’s an entrance I can use there.”
He followed her instructions, drove around a shed and a hangar to the back of the building and parked the truck near the rear door.
“Wait here.”
“How long?”
“I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“You got a cell phone?”
“Yes, why?”
“Might need you in a hurry. Make sure it’s on. What’s the number?”
She gave it to him. He was making her real nervous. She opened the passenger door, glanced back at him.
His eyes tunneled into hers. “Be quick.”
Two simple words. Yet they tripped her up. It was the way he looked at her when he said them. Something in the deep emerald of his eyes spoke of compassion. It caught in her throat. “Thank you, Scott.”
He nodded.
She shut the door, ducked into the Kepplar building as the sun broke, feeding gold light over the horizon.
Fred Ryan was on security detail. Good. He seldom wanted to chat. Skye nodded, smiled at him, slotted her ID card into the system, strode briskly down the corridor to her lab. The sound of her boot heels clacked hollow, echoed off walls.
She was taking a risk coming here. It was costing precious time. But she’d invested too much in this predator beetle project to let Malik get the better of this, too. She would see at least this thing through.
And if she was going to have to disappear again, she needed to know the project would go ahead safely.
Skye snapped on her gloves and checked the boxes containing the control samples. The larvae looked healthy. But her practiced eye sensed something different. She peered closer. The heads of the little grubs were light brown, but the bodies seemed a little lighter than usual. More creamy-white than grayish. Or was it just the effect of the gold morning sun streaming in through the lab window?
She moved on to the pupae. They looked fine, already turning reddish brown, a sign the adults were about to emerge.
Skye moved on to the next control sample. She hesitated. Was she imagining it? The newly emerged beetles were a rich chestnut in color. But the older ones should be glossy black by now.
She frowned, flicked on the fluorescent overhead lighting. They were the wrong color. It was so subtle a variation, most probably wouldn’t notice it. But she did. Her mouth went dry. Something wasn’t right. Perhaps they were at an earlier stage of the life cycle than indicated in the log. She moved quickly to check Charly’s notes. Nothing. No mention of changes.
Skye wiped her sleeve across her brow, thinking. She was running out of time. But she couldn’t leave. Something was amiss with her project. She needed more trials.
She reached for a small tweezer-like tool, quickly plucking an adult beetle from the sample. She flicked on her microscope, placed it beneath the lens. Her pulse kicked into high gear. This was something she’d never seen in her previous samples. Minute red speckles scattered over the black-brown shell of the beetle, invisible to the naked eye.
Panic gripped her throat. Perhaps the gene had mutated. She needed to check the hundreds of newly emerged adults that would be shipped within two weeks. She needed to see that this aberration was only being demonstrated in this small control sample. And she needed to know why, what in hell it meant. She reached for another beetle. But the shrill ring in her pocket snapped her back. She fumbled, pulled out her cell.
“What?”
“Get out now! They’re coming around the front.”
Adrenaline squeezed at her lungs. Her eyes shot to the lab door, then back to her beetles. She had to make a choice.
The security alarm sounded. Someone was trying to get into the building.
Fear kicked Skye into action. She raced for the lab door, shoved it open, sped down the corridor. Fred Ryan was not at his security post. She flew out the back exit, alarm bells clanging in her ears.
Scott had the truck waiting, engine running, door open. She threw herself into the cab. He spun tires, her feet barely off the ground. He floored the gas, gunned through the parking lot.
And Skye could see why. The two men had seen them and were running for their car. She tried to duck down into the cab.
“Too late, sweetheart, they’ve seen you. And me. We’re in this together now.”
She clenched her teeth as he swerved out of the Kepplar gates and onto the road.
“Buckle up, we’re on the run.”
She turned to him. His face was pure granite, a study of self-control. Not an edge of fear.
“You’ve done this before.”
He yanked on the wheel, cut down a side road. “That an accusation?”
“Who are you?”
“Just a guy with a sense of adventure.” He grinned, pulled on the wheel again, spinning her and Honey hard up against the passenger door. “I told you to buckle up,” he yelled.
Skye pulled herself upright, grabbing for the seat belt as Scott turned again, veered down a narrow farm lane and suddenly slammed on the brakes. She lurched forward, belt cutting into her neck.
Scott peered into the rearview mirror. “There they go.”
She spun around in time to glimpse the brown sedan speeding down the road they’d just left. She slumped back into the seat, heart pounding a staccato beat against her ribs. “God, that was close.” She pushed the hair out of her face, realized she was still wearing her latex gloves. She stared at them. “What now?”
“Now you tell me the truth. Now you tell me what you’re running from.”
She opened her mouth to lie, saw the hard green glint in his eyes, shut it slowly.
“Well?”
She studied him, weighing her options. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because right now I’m all you’ve got, sweetheart.”
She swallowed under his keen scrutiny. He was right. At this moment he was all she had. And she had little doubt that if she didn’t satisfy this man, he’d ditch her. Right here on this dirt road. And it would be mere minutes before those men realized they’d ducked down one of the lanes.
Think fast, Skye. Skirt the truth. It’ll be easiest that way. She pulled her gloves off as she spoke. “I—I had a possessive boyfriend once. I think he’s come after me.”
Scott McIntyre threw back his head, laughed loud and long. Then he stopped suddenly, anger pulling the ledge of his brow low and threatening over eyes that had turned to cold, green stone. “Get real, Doctor. You think I’m buying that one?”
“You have to, because it’s the truth.” She heard the edge of desperation in her own voice. “He was violent. I had a restraining order slapped on him. It was many years ago.”
“Right. Now you’re asking me to swallow the fact that he’s in that brown sedan with some other guy, chasing you?”
“No. Like I said, I don’t know who those two men are. But I wouldn’t put it past my ex to hire two goons to come after me.”
“Sweetheart.” She heard the warning bite in his tone. “You’re pushing it. And I’m losing my patience.”
She placed her hand on his forearm. “Scott, like you said, you’re all I have right now. Why would I lie?”
“You tell me.” He stared at her hand on his arm.
“You’re so pigheaded.”
“Give me reason not to be.”
“Okay, okay. My ex had criminal connections. Mob.” She swallowed. Her throat felt as dry as the Greek hills she’d been raised in. And what she was telling Scott McIntyre wasn’t that far from the truth. Just thinking about Malik turned her stomach to water.
Something shifted in Scott’s eyes. He pulled his arm out from under her hand. “Why do you think these men had something to do with Jozsef’s disappearance?”
“I don’t know. Honest. Maybe they paid him off or something.”
“Come on, Skye. You want me to believe your fiancé, the man who loved you, took cash over a wedding?”
She looked down at her hands. “I didn’t love Jozsef,” she said softly. “And I don’t think he loved me.”
Scott was silent for a second. He cleared his throat. “Where is this ex-boyfriend of yours now?”
“Don’t know. The last I knew he’d gone into hiding.”
“When was this?”
“It was years ago. I was young. Very young. I really don’t want to talk about it.”
He tapped his hand on the wheel, thinking. “How young?”
“Nineteen. Please…can we go now?”
His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Here they come…hang on to Honey!” He shifted gears, floored the gas. She grabbed the dog, the momentum kicking them both back, her head cracking against the rear cab window. Skye screwed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look. She felt suddenly exhausted. The pain in the back of her head thumped along with the panicked rhythm of her heart.
She’d told him too much. In her desperation she’d skirted too close to the truth. Her world was closing in on her and she had no clue why. She clung to Honey with both arms, taking comfort from the dog.
And she said a silent prayer in her mother tongue as the truck ripped through the farm fields.