CHAPTER Four

 

 

Nate felt the shift in air just in time to deflect the descending blow. He dipped and veered around, his arm extended as rigid as a baseball bat as it impacted something solid−a male chest. The momentum shoved the figure back. Nate felt pain shoot up into his shoulder, but ignored it as he watched the imbalanced shadow drop into an armchair. Long legs sprawled out as big hands grappled for stability.

“Don’t move.” Nate’s command was glacial.

“No!” Emily cried when she saw him draw the gun.

Her shriek stopped him. It was a primal cry of fear, tortured enough to make him waver.

Emily lunged past him, her hands splayed in the air, her stance forming a protective barrier before the armchair. Blue eyes flashed a challenge that would make the most ardent man cower.

What a tableau, he thought. The senseless pang of envy as he watched her defend the somewhat attractive male pissed him off.

“Hey, the guy attacked me from behind.” He tried to sound casual. “What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect you to come charging in here with artillery.”

She was insane. That was it. Emily Brennan had to be insane. “First, I didn’t come charging in here—you invited me.” He ignored her smothered denial. “Second, you forget you’re the criminal. You are the person I was sent to track down and return at all costs—using whatever method I have to. Third, I’m betting that the guy cowering behind you is the illustrious engineer I’m supposed to bring back.”

Lowering the 9mm, but not pocketing it, Nate added, “And last, I’m tired. I’m sore. I don’t have time for this bullshit, so you both better cooperate pretty damn fast or I will bring in the artillery.”

“I didn’t invite you.” She eyed the object like it was an acid-spitting snake.

Nate was distracted by the hand winding up Emily’s hip in an effort to push her aside. The man succeeded and climbed out of the chair to glare at Nate with the unblinking gaze of a coyote.

“I am not cowering.” It was a low oath.

For a moment the two men gauged each other—a silent standoff in which the wind’s mournful whistle licked at the front door. Nate’s finger rested against the trigger, but he kept the weapon down, alongside his thigh.

Years in Naval Intelligence had taught him nearly a hundred ways to incapacitate this young man in seconds without the need of a weapon. But the unwavering stare of this adversary immobilized him. It was like looking into a fortuneteller’s crystal ball. First you saw a mystical swirl of smoke, and then the clarifying images of fate.

“Enough.” Emily snapped the spell by hoisting in front of him. “Look, we don’t have what you want.”

You have plenty of what I want, Angel. Nate glared at the mutinous thought, but Emily backed down from that burning glance.

“Maybe that’s the truth,” he said. “But you had it.” He returned the handgun to its post at the small of his back. “You’re on film, Ms. Brennan. We know you had the backup drive, so if it isn’t in your possession right now, you certainly know where it is.” His gaze shifted. “Or the designer himself knows it’s location. By the way, are you going to introduce me?”

Emily seemed surprised. “You don’t know who this is?”

No. And it was pissing him off. He had known that night before he took off after Emily, but now there was no name. All he had was a breach of knowledge−one that had been stuffed with details from Phil’s recital, but Phil had only referred to the offender as “The Engineer.”

Nate caught Emily studying him and he swore he detected concern in her gaze.

“I’m fine, so don’t try anything.”

She couldn’t be worried about him. More likely, she was sizing up a potential avenue of escape.

But her eyes continued to peruse him, dipping to all the spots on his body that had sustained injury. With a flinch she snapped out of her own spell.

“Nate Morrison.” She stepped back and swept her arm in the young man’s direction. “Meet Colin Brennan.”

Brennan. My God, her husband. The persistent stab of jealousy was back with a vengeance, and it made his temperament even fouler. What the hell did he care? The woman he had been attracted to—rather, infatuated with, did not exist. She truly was an angel, and literally slipped up to the heavens the moment she left that hospital. Before him now stood a married criminal.

“Mr. Brennan.” He tipped his head in acknowledgment.

Colin reached for his shirt pocket and Nate hauled out his gun, startling the engineer. Colin raised his palms and held up an index finger. Slowly, he reached into his pocket again and extracted a red stick of licorice, all the while, never blinking.

Nate slid a quizzical glance at Emily.

“He doesn’t like you,” she observed.

Nate let loose a scornful laugh. “Well if that isn’t just a pisser. I can’t imagine why not.”

She glared in response and then started at the sound of Colin’s voice.

“You two act like you know each other.” Colin used the licorice as a wand and waved it back and forth between them.

***

Disturbed, Emily avoided both men. She glared at the couch where Benjamin Franklin was supposedly sitting and jerked her eyes to avoid him as well. Her restless glance landed on the end table where her father’s polished cigar box sat with a layer of dust matting it. Her mother insisted he smoke the “cursed” things out on the deck, although at Christmas there would always be a new box of Cohibas under the tree from her.

“Do you?” Colin prompted.

“Do I what?” She shuddered.

“Know him?”

Emily followed Colin’s stare and landed on Nate. She knew him.

Had it been another time or place I would have stayed at his side in that hospital and watched him mend. I would have wanted to get to know him more. I would have wanted to touch his bare chest and taste the hesitant smile on his lips.

How could she have been so stupid as to not realize he was tailing her? She had been lulled into a false sense of security when for over an hour the rearview mirror was empty.

Distracted from the past, Nate’s eyes met hers and she saw the reflection of the fire in them as it crackled and burned. Drawn from that source of heat, her glance dropped to his hand curved around the handle of a gun.

“This is the second time Mr. Morrison has caught me.” Emily announced softly.

Nothing of Nate’s grim expression revealed his thoughts.

“The second time?” Colin paced, his hand ruffling the side of his head like a dog scratching behind his ear. “So there was something you left out, wasn’t there Emmy?”

“The accident. When I called you from the hospital.” She turned towards her brother, feeling small and pitiable rather than the guardian she was supposed to be. “I didn’t know he was with NMD, Colin. I’m not used to looking over my shoulder all the time—this is all so new for me.”

He jabbed the air with the drooping licorice stick. “If they had been after you like they were after me—you would have learned real fast.”

“I am not inherently paranoid, Colin.” Seeing her brother flinch, Emily immediately felt contrite. “Look,” she turned towards Nate, who watched her with a deliberation that made her hesitate. “It was Colin’s design. How is that stealing?”

The look he gave her said, you know better than to ask that. Which was true, she did. But she had her back to the proverbial wall, and was ready to do battle.

“Colin Brennan is employed by NMD,” Nate said. “Everything he designs within that facility is the property of NMD.”

“Ah hah! You’re right.” Colin jabbed his red vine.

“Thanks,” Nate replied quizzically.

“No, not you.” Frustration had Colin rubbing his hair again. He looked past Nate towards the beige throw pillow toppled over on the couch. “Him.”

“Him?” Nate whirled, instinctively lifting his gun.

The room was empty.

“Who?”

“Oh God.” Emily dropped down to sit on the end table, as her hands reached up to cover her face.

“As Ben so wisely pointed out, the Hyperion was something I had mocked up at home and simply tweaked during my off hours at work.”

“Ben?” Nate mouthed and sought Emily’s gaze. She eluded it.

“Yes, yes, I know.” The lanky man continued to chatter with the pillow that had tufts of yarn erupting from its four corners. “Friggin Big Brother was watching me. I saw the cameras. They wanted that design—they stole it!”

***

“Whoa. Just hold on now.” Assimilating this, Nate felt the pain kick in with a vengeance behind his eye. He wanted to sit—actually, sink was more like it, but that would give too much of an advantage to the happy little couple…and he didn’t trust them.

Besides, Ben was taking up the couch. “Alright, who is Ben?”

“Franklin. Geeze, you’ve heard of Ben Franklin, haven’t you? I knew those NMD guys weren’t too intelligent.”

Nate hefted his gaze in search of Emily’s. When he met it there was a silent challenge there.

“Yes, I’ve heard of Benjamin Franklin.” He looked at the empty chair. “I just didn’t realize he had risen from the dead and moved to Lake George.”

Colin made a strangled sound and resumed his pacing, hesitating at intervals to scratch his ear.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? Nate thought as he wrenched his gaze from the lumbering engineer and landed on the curve of Emily’s thigh. In worn jeans she was a drastic change from the sophisticated creature in the hospital. But this Emily—the one in rumpled attire, the one with her auburn hair messed from the wind—this Emily was damn sexy.

“Leave him alone.” She whispered.

“Who, Ben?”

“No, Colin.”

Ahh, the protective spouse. How quaint. What was a woman like her doing with an eccentric, overgrown kid and a dead philanthropist? Quite the trio.

Now the pain felt as though his forehead had been cracked open and acid dripped freely into the crevice. Nate caved in and raised his hand over the throbbing laceration.

“Do you want aspirin?”

“No,” he barked at the offer.

Then the sound of her voice sunk in. With his hand over his face, impairing his vision, that soft voice reached Nate, and with it came the haunting recollection of his angel in white.

Are you all right?

He dropped his palm and stared at her.

There. He heard it again. Just like in the hospital. That kinetic sound, as if a swarm of bees encircled his head. She seemed equally transfixed, caught by his stare with her lips parted on a breath. So soft were those peach-glossed lips, God help him, at the time he had contemplated what they would feel like under his own.

“Look,” Nate wrenched from the recollection. “The bottom line is that I’m bringing you both back. I don’t need to hear any of the excuses that you contrived, I just need to produce you in front of Barcuda and then my job is complete.”

“It’s so simple isn’t it?” Emily observed with disdain.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll go.” Colin stepped between them.

Nate’s head snapped back, having forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

“It wasn’t up for debate.”

“I’ll go and you’ll let Emily free.”

“Not a chance.”

“She was just acting on my behalf. I’m the one they want. Who’s to say everything was on that pen drive anyway? There may be more in here.” He tapped his tawny hair with the licorice stick.

“There may be,” Nate conceded.

“Are you going to kill us then?”

***

For a moment Emily nearly felt sorry for Nate. The astonished look on his face almost softened the sharp planes of his nose and jaw. She had not realized how dark his features were. His hair was nearly black, and his eyes were the warm shade of glowing bourbon with the backlight of a fireplace. That hard jaw was shadowed with stubble, no doubt due to his immediate chase after her. The discoloration of a fading bruise spanned one sharp cheekbone.

Her brother, in contrast, looked fair with pale skin, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes to match hers. He reached Nate’s height, but it was a lanky stature, not solid like the man that was now regrouping and pushing out the words, “Christ, no I’m not going to kill you!”

Nate rubbed the sallow spot on his cheek. “Look, you and Emily committed a crime. Fortunately NMD has chosen to keep this within their jurisdiction. They haven’t contacted the authorities—yet.”

“Th—then, why did they rig my Volkswagen?”

“Rig your—” Nate finally restored the gun to the spot nestled against his spine and Emily’s glance lingered there for a second.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shook his head.

Sinking onto the arm of the couch, she explained, “Someone tampered with Colin’s brakes.”

“Oh, come on. We’re talking about a government-funded facility here, not a bunch of heavies with a contract. Let’s not get dramatic. You got caught and now you want to skirt the issue.”

“In fact,” Emily inserted coolly, “your government-funded facility did tamper with Colin’s car, amongst other things.”

Nate turned his back on them and approached the sliding glass door. She noticed him hesitate and glance at the empty armchair.

“How did you find us?” Colin asked the reflection in the glass.

Beyond that reflection, the glow of the outside light revealed a deck mottled with snow and leaves. Beneath a tarp heavy with pooling ice sat the hulking contour of their old table and chairs. A gas grill, uncovered, suffered the fate of erosion and the ring of rust around the propane barrel marked this year’s highest snowline.

“I traced her phone,” Nate stated quietly.

“Dammit, Em!”

“Don’t you dammit me, Colin Brennan. I knew this was a mistake from the beginning. We should have gone to someone, someone outside of NMD. We could have explained the situation. But no—everyone was the enemy.”

Ignoring her tirade, Colin addressed Nate. “But how could you trace it? How did you know the number?”

Emily studied Nate’s back, awaiting his reply. His shoulders were broad, with hardened muscles that bunched beneath the black sweater and even now twitched as if they felt the touch of her eyes. That restrained power caused a bout of queasiness in her stomach. To think that she had nurtured that power, nurtured her adversary back enough to return to stalk her.

“Dr. McCarter?” she asked quietly.

Nate nodded without turning around, but she had no doubt he had both of them captured in the reflection.

“Who’s Dr. McCarter?” Colin’s voice crept up an octave.

“So, no one else knows where we are?” She disregarded her brother.

Nate revolved completely and crossed his arms to regard her. “What are you going to do Angel, overpower me and run again?”

“Damn right, she’s going to do that.” Colin grumbled, “and she doesn’t take too kindly to the patronizing title either.”

The sharp staccato of Nate’s cell phone shocked the group. Yanking the slim device from his back pocket, he snapped it open with a curse. “Morrison.”

***

“Morrison, it’s Barcuda. What’s your status?”

It was unusual—no, astonishing for George C. Barcuda to make calls to the field. Given the gaps in memory, Nate’s knowledge of the mission was as porous as a slice of Swiss cheese−a deficit that made him edgy. His brain contained a bevy of knowledge, a virtual database that challenged most military catalogs, but to hear that Barcuda was on the other end meant that the situation had escalated.

Nate’s response was controlled, but he was alert to the subtle nuances of Barcuda’s voice. “I’m in Lake George.”

“Did you find them?”

In the background, Tony Bennett quietly crooned about San Francisco. Barcuda was in his car. It was the only place he indulged in the arts.

There was a split-second hesitation as Nate surprised himself by answering, “No.”

“Dammit,” Barcuda cursed. “Pulkowski said you had a lead. Do I need to send someone else up there?”

With his acclaimed history and connections in the Navy, Nate could not be intimidated by the likes of George C. Barcuda. It was a fact that really pissed Barcuda off.

Nate cleared his throat. “If you think I can’t handle it, I’m sure your henchmen would fit right in here. A group of heavies in black trench coats and sunglasses would never draw attention, or put the two engineers on alert.”

With a quick snap, Tony Bennett was muted. A faint whistle sounded as Barcuda drew a deep breath through pinched nasal passages. “Don’t muck this up, Morrison. I need the material those traitors stole.”

“Jesus, this isn’t the Cold War. If you thought it was valuable, why didn’t you have your own backup of his data? I thought NMD had copies of the contents of every hard drive. I thought external drives were not allowed on the premises. ”

“They’re not. This kid is shifty. Not to be trusted. Do what you have to, but don’t believe him. You’ve got twenty-four hours to produce the engineers or you’re off the case. You already fucked up once. Yes, I know about the accident. I’m giving you twenty-four hours out of respect for your track record, but that’s all ancient history as far as I’m concerned. I only care about what you can do for me now.”

Barcuda had not hired him. That was the underlying issue. NMD had recruited Nate directly from the Navy when he had made it clear his role as an intelligence agent abroad was over. He was thirty-six years old, and the events in the Persian Gulf aged him far beyond that count. If he was to have any hope of a normal life he needed to make some drastic moves−and NMD seemed the necessary switch towards stability. It represented a staid career, and that was what Nate longed for.

“I’ll be in touch.” Nate’s tone was hard as he terminated the connection.

Staring at the snow on the back deck, he wasn’t ready to turn around and deal with the couple yet, but he could feel their eyes boring into his back.

Beneath the arc of the porch light, flakes wafted by like a feather pillow had exploded. Beyond the circumference of the exterior bulb a stockade of pine trees obliterated any trace of the night sky. If not for Emily’s cell phone he would have never found them in this ridiculously remote outpost.

“Nate?”

Nate closed his eyes. Even now, that soft whisper made him ache. But it was someone else that had beckoned him from unconsciousness−not this woman.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said.

That was not what he expected. He turned and tried to gauge the expression on Emily’s face. She stood with her fingers jammed into the back pockets of her jeans. He met her eyes and there was the familiar compassion there, though it battled with darker shades of anxiety and resentment.

“What are you thanking me for?”

She chewed her bottom lip and then thrust forward her chin. “I don’t know who you were talking to, but I know it was about us—and—well, you made it sound like you haven’t found us yet.” Her hands came out of her pockets. “Why?”

Couldn’t she have posed an easier question?

To conceal the fact that he had no reply, Nate switched his focus onto the long-limbed man watching him from beneath lowered eyelids. Caught in the act, the gaze shifted.

Colin folded his arms. “You aren’t following the rules are you, Mr. Morrison?”

The last thing Nate wanted was to answer for his actions to a cocky engineer with a pension for talking to dead people. “I make the rules.”

The eyes returned to study him—this time, boldly. Nate found that stare disturbing, as if he was being dissected and examined by an alien force. He rubbed his ribs and flinched when the redwood clock above the mantle chimed midnight.

“Look, it’s getting late,” he observed. “The roads are bad, and I’m not about to tempt the fates twice. Next time there might not be someone looking over me.”

Emily’s cheeks glowed in the wake of the fire. “It’s not going to make a difference whether you bring us in tonight or tomorrow,” she reminded. “Why don’t you at least rest for now?”

He hitched his shoulder inside the frame of the sliding glass door. “You’ll try to escape—that much is a given.” A hand rose to halt her protest. “I’ll be right back. I have to take care of your cars.”

Nate looked at Colin who now dropped gracelessly on the third step of the staircase. “Your Volkswagen—I take it that’s the one up the road under the trees.”

With a smirk, Colin shook his head. “Guess I wasn’t as tricky as I thought.”

Nate hooked his thumb at the chair. “And him, where’s the coach parked?”

Emily would have expected the comment to set Colin off, but his head tipped back and he emitted a hearty laugh. He nodded towards the small throw pillow and grinned.

“Ben thinks you’re a hoot, but he pointed out that a coach wouldn’t make it through this snow. He came here on foot.”

“I imagine he did.” Nate reached for the sliding glass door. His other hand swept his lower back with an implicating threat. “I trust neither of you will go anywhere. If you do, I’ll catch up with you, and well—you’ll just have managed to piss me off.”

Edgy, Emily stared at the gun at the base of his spine. She folded her arms, trying to appear poised. “There’s nowhere for us to go.” Instead of controlled, it sounded desperate.

Nate wavered. “Let’s get this straight. I won’t shoot either of you, but I will do what I have to in order to stop you.”

He waited, swapping his attention from one pensive face to the other until finally Colin’s curt nod satisfied him.

“Ten minutes. I’ll know if either of you leave this cabin, so let’s save everyone the hassle.” With the door wrenched open, the frigid breeze ruffled the back of his hair as he turned for one last glance.

Emily met his gaze. A mist of fine snow began to matt the carpeting about his feet, but he ignored it, unable to break that stare. He wished to hell she was not a thief that he had to return for censure.