a Touch of Intrigue (21 page)

Ten minutes later the energy from my taproot calmed. Danger passed? I waited, listening. My sea glass was quiet. I trusted its song and the peace flowing from the earth, and…didn’t hit the trail. Following example, I hugged the edge of the path. The going was tougher, but drier, and definitely less muddy. And the rain was easing.

I plodded along, staying tuned to the direction of Fred’s base camp. I was homing in on it, so kept the audio image from my taproot connection up front and center, and slowed my pace. A few feet in front of me the trail veered to the right. Away from my destination.

One breath. Two. Yes, I trusted the low, energetic rumbles of people, buildings, stuff that I couldn’t see or hear with my normal senses. It went against every human instinct I possessed to leave the trail and head into the underbrush again.

The going was slow, the foliage more aggressive. My shirtsleeves were ripped, my cargoes had dried stiff from the mud, and scraped my legs with every step. Millie and Harlan became a mantra that I chanted to keep focused on my goal.

And then warning signals shot up the taproot, exploded around me. I hit the ground, grabbed the Smith&Wesson blade from my cargo pocket, and stilled, listening.

A man passed in front of me, stealthy. Not so much as a leaf fluttered when he walked by. Pierce moved like that, silent and deadly. Resistance was my last choice. That left me with evasion and escape, and I had no choice but to focus on evasion and
invasion
first. Escape would come later.

I hunkered in to watch. The sentry passed every twenty minutes. Not much time for recon.
Up, Everly, remember to look up.
I managed to keep my mouth closed, and my mind chatter internal. There was a climbable tree about six feet to my right. I started a mental countdown, and then made my move. Hugging the tree with a death grip, I worked my way to a sturdy branch, crawled out, scanned the area.

There it was! A building, some tents, and directly in front of me a clearing where the chopper lived. I hung onto the branch, closed my eyes, and checked things out with Pierce-vision. It was a well-established compound, had probably been built in my parents’ time. Probably it was how Fred had stayed on top of their activities. I backed toward the tree trunk, stopped. My human hearing had picked up a rustle in the underbrush. New guy had replaced the original sentry well before my twenty minutes was up. So I hung there, legs and arms wrapped around the branch that did a piss poor job of hiding me. And this guy was headed directly under the tree.

I’d pocketed my blade before I climbed the tree. No way to retrieve it without catching his attention. And though my training with Annie and Whitney had been solid, I hadn’t actually killed anyone with a knife. This wasn’t a good time to test that training. Besides killing one of Fred’s cronies didn’t sit well. He wasn’t threatening me, and probably worked for the government I supported. Nope, knifing the guy wouldn’t be an option, even if I could get to my blade. I could drop on him. Fight.

He was three feet away. I slowed my breathing. Two feet. I focused on becoming one with the tree, blending with the bark and leaves, and counted his steps. Fifteen should put me in the clear.

One second per step. Slow, tortuous seconds.

He paused, looked left, right, down, and…up.

My heart forgot to beat. This was it. I’d drop on him, have the advantage of speed, and pull out every hand-to-hand trick Whitney and Annie had taught me.

He kept moving. Didn’t see me, or maybe he wasn’t supposed to. Was letting me get closer part of Fred’s strategy? Did Fred even have a fricking strategy?

When the sentry was well away, I shimmied out of the tree, and stared to work my way around the clearing. Approaching the building from the rear was my only option. If I ran across the clearing, I’d be a moving target. Not good. Even with my limited experience, there was no doubt about that. And the dark would be my friend.

Dusk had begun its approach while I was treed, so it should be full dark by the time I reached the rear of the building.

Millie and Harlan, here I come.

It took me a solid hour to circle the clearing because I had to hunker down and hide whenever the sentries passed.

When I reached my targeted area, I climbed another tree, invoked Pierce-vision, and peered into the windows. A soft glow came from the far room on the right. I rubbed my sea glass, checked in with my taproot, and Millie and Harlan’s energy signature touched my consciousness. I would recognize those auras anywhere.

Adrenaline spiked. Almost there. Except that after I got them out I would need to find a way home. I sent out a prayer to the goddesses that one of them could fly a helicopter—and knew where Fred kept the keys.

“Fat chance.” The words came as a distant echo. Grandma Makani! Not the words I wanted to hear, but it was amazing that I could sense her at all. I loved having her voice in my head, and the sure knowledge that it was a one-time thing made me appreciate it even more.

The news she’d delivered wasn’t good. I counted the minutes between the passing of sentries while I ate another protein bar, and chased it with a couple gulps of water. Then I tuned into Pierce-vision to check for trip wires or other traps that might not normally be visible. Nothing. Fred wasn’t guarding Millie and Harlan. Which made me suspect that I’d missed something critical, like what if they didn’t
want
to come home? If Fred’s insinuation was correct, and they’d been working for him a long time, maybe it was by choice.

I tucked that possibility aside to deal with if it became necessary, and prepped for my approach. Boots laced tight? Check. Go-bag secured? Check. Gun at my waist? Check. Boot knife in place? Check. Hair pulled tight and secured? Check. I listened until the sentry’s footsteps faded, then crouch-ran to the building, and flattened myself against the wall. Drawing on my taproot to listen, I caught the low murmur of Millie and Harlan talking, but didn’t sense the presence of anyone else. Time to make my move. I reached up, knocked on the glass.

The window slid open and Harlan looked out.

“What was that?” Millie, sounding hesitant.

I stood, listening with every sense available to me, then stepped into the light. “Hi, Harlan. Ready to come home?”

He grinned, motioned Millie forward. “Our baby’s here.”

Millie’s hands flew to cover her mouth. “What’s happened to you, Child?”

I probably looked a bit rough. And they definitely sounded happy to see me. I hadn’t realized how scared I’d been that they’d gone with Fred willingly, that they wouldn’t want me to bring them home. “Trek through the underbrush, but I’m good to go. Sentry will be by in couple minutes. Can you make it into the woods after he passes? And can either of you fly that helicopter?”

They both shook their heads. “We’ll be out as soon as it’s clear.” Was that excitement sparkling in Harlan’s eyes?

I did a quick scan of my taproot for footsteps. Nothing, so I did a repeat of the crouch-run, slipped into the tree line, and started counting. It took the sentry fifty seconds to make the turn around the corner of the building and come into view. I’d cut it way too close, and a confirming hit of adrenaline zinged my nerves.

The light in Millie and Harlan’s room went out—my signal to come up with a plan. Muddy trail. Dark as hades. It wasn’t good.

And neither were the footsteps vibrating through the taproot.

TWENTY

COMPLETELY TRUSING MY SENSES, I
spun to face the intruder, Smith&Wesson at the ready.

The footsteps stopped, and a soft British voice drifted toward me. “Nice work, Gray.”

I blew out a sigh and pocketed my blade. “Damn it, Whitney Boulay you scared the shit out of me.”

More footsteps, coming from the building. I whirled. Millie and Harlan. She gave me one of her more serious tsk-tsk noises. “That’s not the way we raised you to talk, child.”

“Stressful circumstances.”

Whitney choked on a laugh, then asked, “Escape plan?”

“Keep Millie and Harlan safe, navigate the trail carefully, get the hell out of here.” As plans go, it lacked.

Millie tugged on my shredded sleeve. “Introductions, Everly, please.”

Irritation shot through me, but attitude hadn’t been allowed in my childhood, and Millie had always been one step ahead of the polite patrol. Still, I cut it short. Whitney knew stuff, so I figured Millie and Harlan were no surprise to her. I turned to them. “This is Whitney Boulay, a good friend.”

Whitney nodded at them.

I pointed to the window. “I need to get in there and touch things, see if I can learn anything and pocket any files that have needed intel.”

Harlan gripped my forearm. “There’s nothing here. Over time we’ve copied everything and have it safely stored in your home.”

I zeroed in on him. Truth? There was nothing but honesty in his eyes.

Whitney must have agreed. “Let’s make tracks.”

I headed for the trail, but Whitney grabbed my arm. “Chopper would be a bit faster.”

Hope surged. “Can you fly it?”

“Yes. I’ll text Pierce to clear the flight, then hot wire it while you strap yourselves in.”

Creepy warning shivers raced along my spine. This was way too easy. “Does Fred know we’re borrowing his helicopter?”

“Not if I can help it. At least not until we’re airborne.”

“But how…” I cut myself off. “Quiet. Sentry coming.”

We all froze, waiting for him to pass. Whitney touched my shoulder. “Didn’t Pierce tell you I was your backup?”

Well, hell. “Yeah, but I thought he sent you to Washington, DC.”

She frowned. “I watched the scenario unfold, then stowed in the bird. Stayed close. That’s what backup does.”

Anger shoved its way into my voice. “And you let me go through that hell alone?”

“Field training. It’s a bitch,” she said with a wink.

We reached the helicopter, waited until we’d timed and calculated every movement around the bird, then we slipped inside, Whitney giving Millie a butt boost. It unsettled me that she needed help. She’d been my rock during childhood, took the place of my parents when they traveled. In my child’s mind, Millie and Harlan stayed the same. It had never registered that they were of an age—my grandparents’ age. As an adult, I hadn’t factored normal life span into my perceptions because Aukele was still lithe, smarter than almost everyone I knew, and looked twenty years younger than his chronological age. My bad. I hated when I missed the obvious, and didn’t plan accordingly. Note to self: when Pierce sends you on a mission, learn the physical and mental strengths of your targets
before
you leave.

Whitney turned to us. “Stay down. Once the rotors start I doubt anyone will approach, but they have weapons, and I don’t know how serious Fred is about keeping you here.”

“He knew about this being a training exercise for me, and is probably planning to rescue me from my inept abilities sometime tomorrow.”

Whitney nodded. “Hot wiring now. Keep low.”

The inside of the helicopter was obnoxiously loud, even with a protective headset. But I was listening to my taproot. “Incoming footsteps to the left. Moving fast,” I yelled, reaching for my .380. Not that it would do me any good. Why wasn’t this one of those handy open-door choppers so I could get a clear shot?

“Hang on.” Whitney’s voice sounded calm through my headset.

Millie and Harlan were gripping their seats, but otherwise appeared equally calm. If this mission turned out to be something Fred and Pierce cooked up, they’d better be watching their backsides for a long time to come.

And then we were airborne. I tucked the .380 into my go-bag, closed my eyes, let go of the taproot, and exhaustion slapped me down. It had been a long day, an even longer night, and I’d used a lot of energy, but at least Millie and Harlan were back where they belonged.

Sudden quiet roused me. Whitney had landed the confiscated bird on the cottage helipad and shut down the engine. And my deal with Fred was complete, but there were still my guardians to interrogate. I glanced at them when I removed my headset. Both dozing, faces lined with wrinkles. How had I missed that? An uneasy dread built around me. They’d known about the implant, were deeply involved in the intrigue surrounding my childhood. How the hell was I going to interrogate the shit out of them, because that was exactly what I had to do. Or I could just touch them, see if I could get enough intel to skip the rubber hoses and waterboarding.

Pierce met us on the roof, helped Millie and Harlan out of the chopper, then grabbed me in a fierce hug. “Damn but I love you.”

My heart soared. “Same goes. But if I find out that you planned that so called training exercise with Fred, you will be in the deepest shit ever.”

He caught my earlobe in his teeth, tugged on it. “Fred’s not the bad guy. Rough around the edges, but we have an underlying respect for each other.

Those words didn’t settle well at all, but exhaustion and information overload had numbed my brain, and I wanted to be in peak form before we got into a Fred discussion, and before I talked to and touched Millie and Harlan. I stepped away from Pierce, poked a splotch of mud on his t-shirt. “Shared my mud with you.”

“First stop, the pool.” Yep, there was lust sparkling in those gorgeous blue eyes.