a Touch of Intrigue (24 page)

“I think it’s just because I pushed my limits yesterday, and then didn’t get that much rest last night. I’ll be fine, Siofra… I moved out of triangle pose, and held her gaze. “Should I…is there? You call me daughter in Gaelic, is there a word, for me to…” I rolled my hand in her direction, unsure about how to finish the sentence.

“Mother-in-law is
Máthair chéile
. From listening to Tynan, you’ve probably guessed that
máthair
means mother. In English,
chéile
translates into together. But I would hope that we are kindred spirits, Everly, more like soul sisters than in-laws.”

Some of the tension left my chest. Siofra understood what I was asking. “Yes. With the intrigue surrounding my family, mother is…uncomfortable for me. What would I call a soul sister?”

“
A dhlúthchara
is the closest. It means my best or closest friend. Slightly different from how you relate to the friend of your heart, Annie Stone Martin.”

It worked for me, and was a perfect fit for how I wanted my relationship with Siofra to be. “How do I pronounce that again?”

She laughed. “It might take you a bit of practice. Uh gloo-khar-uh.” She said it slowly a few times, giving me a chance to hear the syllables.

I muttered it under my breath for a good five minutes before I attempted to say it out loud. It was a good break for my chaotic thoughts, and it kept my mind off my aching back.

“Very good, daughter. Now let’s finish this up, because I need to get back and start a pot of Irish stew. Millie and I are dividing kitchen duties, and I drew the supper slot today. I do believe she and Harlan should be back with the groceries about now.”

We were in the middle of creating a lethal formula, one that held my future in the balance, and she was chatting about stew. Of course she was. Siofra had mastered the art of being one with the Universe, of knowing that everything was as it should be, and damn it all she
believed
it. I hadn’t reached that lofty spot in my spiritual development, and it didn’t look I’d get there any time soon. I could, however, focus on my mother’s formula, and free
dhlúthchara
to nourish our bodies and minds with the love inherent in everything she cooked. “Why don’t you go back to the house? I can finish here.” I waved my hand over the garden. “We’re on the last plant, I have my fingers and intuitive listening for guides, and the protocol is second nature to me now. We were so meticulous with the first three specimens, the process has become ingrained.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Are you sure? I really don’t think you need me to finish up, but leaving you alone—”

“I’ll be fine. The bigger issue is whether you can navigate the maze on your own.”

“Oh, my yes.” Siofra tapped her temple. “I have the pattern memorized, and I have my phone. If I get into trouble, I’ll give you a ring.”

I gave her a sloppy hug. “Go. I should be back home within an hour or so, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way so you don’t fret.”

She nodded, then glanced at the backpack full of plant samples. “And I’ll text you when I arrive at the house. Do you want me to tote some of those along with me?”

“No. We should prepare the formula at Millie and Harlan’s cottage because that’s where my mother worked. Don’t you think we should duplicate her efforts as closely as possible?”

“I do. And the cottage is much closer to the garden, so we won’t have to carry things as far.”

“Which is probably why Mom chose to work there. Makes sense.”

We shared a hug, then Siofra disappeared into the maze and I diligently gathered the last of the plants we needed to recreate my mother’s formula.

And destroy it.

I checked and re-checked the amount of each plant we’d harvested. They exactly matched the four numbers my mother had left, so I considered my morning task complete, and took a few minutes to bask in the peaceful stillness that had settled around me.

No, that wasn’t right.

It was a pregnant stillness that raised chill bumps on my arms.

And damn it all, warning tingles had taken over the back of my neck.

TWENTY-THREE

I COULDN’T AFFORD TO BE
distracted with an annoying tickle if there was danger closing in on me, so I scrubbed at my nape until my skin relaxed. Shutting my eyes went against every life-preserving instinct I had. But I needed to see what was out there, stalking me in the hidden pathways of the maze that protected my mother’s garden.

Deep breaths, Everly.

I closed my eyes, and activated Pierce-vision, then turned in a slow circle, scanning the surrounding area. Nothing abnormal showed up.

The entire garden was in full view, and since Siofra and I had been the only humans inhabiting it all morning, my ESP fingers wouldn’t add anything I didn’t already know. I turned up my hearing, broadening it beyond the plants Siofra and I had been working with, and into the area around me. Lots of sounds, but none that were threatening. I reached for my phone to tag Pierce. Got as far as pulling up my text screen, but realized I didn’t have anything concrete to tell him. How would I explain it? Hey, Honey, I’m spooked by something unknown in the middle of a double maze no one should be able to navigate without help. I have my .380, my favorite Smith&Wesson blade, and decent training in defense tactics, but I’d like you to come look under the bushes. He’d be there in a red-hot minute, but the threat was simply too nebulous to describe. And we all needed his focus to be on finding out who Ghost Guy was, and how to find him.

Siofra. My fingers flew over the keys.
Everything okay?
She should have been home by now, but hadn’t texted me. Maybe I was picking up something about her safety rather than mine. Panic set in. How could I have been so negligent?

My phone dinged with her response.
All is well. Harlan and Millie are here, safe and accounted for. Sorry I forgot to text you. Got busy talking cooking with Millie.

I blew out a sigh of relief. Pierce had the sweetest mother in the world, but darn if she hadn’t scared the bejeezus out of me.

I typed in,
Just checking,
then tucked my phone away.

The tingles came back stronger than ever. My skin crawled with forewarning vibes, and they were coming from…above. Of course. I wasn’t the only person who’d learned that normal, everyday vision didn’t include looking up—unless something unusual happened overhead.

I headed toward the middle of the garden, away from trees and tall foliage. No way could I allow myself to be jumped. It would be pure hell explaining such a rookie mistake to Pierce. Or Whitney. They’d shoot me on the spot.

When I was safely away from the tree line, I did an intuitive search for the direction of the danger, zeroed in on a large bush to my right.

I caught the edge of my phone between my thumb and index finger, eased it out of my pocket, hit speed dial for Pierce, and then slid it back into my pocket.

The leaves rustled. Adrenaline surged.

I pulled the .380 out of my pocket, checked it, relaxed my legs, loosened my arms.

Inhale. Exhale.

The lasso circled me, tightening around my upper torso before I could suck in another breath.

A voice called from behind the bush. “Hello, Everly Gray. Good to meet you. Now if you’ll be kind enough to drop your weapon, and walk backwards until I tell you to stop.”

“Like hell.” I aimed toward the bush. Fired.

“Tsk. Tsk. Your aim is a bit off what with your arms being pinned down. Mine is not.”

The blast of a shotgun deafened me.

Shock numbed my brain, and the gun slipped from my fingers.

“Smart move. Now step back.”

In the time it took me to unfreeze, Ghost Guy stood, moved from behind the bush, and worked his way closer to me. His clothes hung like he’d lost a lot of weight, and his skin was pasty. A sick man. Nevertheless, his left hand stayed steady on the rope, and his right index finger rested comfortably on the trigger of a Benelli M4 Super 90. I recognized it because Whitney had brought one to our last meet at the firing range. It was a gas-operated, semi-automatic, magazine-fed, 12-gauge shotgun. And Ghost Guy was old friends with his weapon.

I didn’t dare close my eyes, but I focused on Pierce energy.
I’ve got Ghost Guy.
I played it like a mantra, hoping that our blood sharing had created a strong enough telepathic bond to cover the entirely of our property. The energy pouring through me was intense, and should be able to travel through cement walls, but it would only work if Pierce were listening.

“Face front, Sweeting. We can’t have you falling down. Your mama, she had better manners than that.”

What the fuck? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ghost Guy shouldered the backpack, and poked me with the Benelli. “Maybe you don’t at that. Move it, Ms. Gray, toward the cottage and keep your legs to yourself.”

“What?”

“I keep up with things. Know you’ve had training. Know you think you can take me as long as your legs are free.”

A well-placed kick was definitely one of my top choices, but the timing had to be right. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

GG tugged on the rope. “We’re going to take a hike, you and I, right on over to that lovely little cottage where you’re going to prepare some of the famous Gray elixir for me. But first, reach into your pocket and retrieve your phone, then toss it to me, real slow like.”

My temper flared. “Like hell!”

GG sighed, loud and long. “You don’t want to be like that. Look where it got your mama. And I have plans in place for fatal accidents to befall the Pierce family and the Kekoa’s if you don’t cooperate.”

If he laid one finger on Siofra or Lorcán he was a dead man. Pierce would see to it, and if he didn’t, I would. “Who are the Kekoa’s?”

His laughter boomed through the forest. “I believe you know them as Millie and Harlan.”

Fear slithered beneath my spine. I’d never heard their last name. Not once while I was growing up had it been mentioned.

GG jerked the rope hard, knocking me off balance. “The phone.”

It wasn’t the right time or place for me to draw a line in the sand. Besides, Pierce would have heard enough by now. I attempted to get the phone out of my pocket. Failed. “Can’t reach it.” And if he’d just loosen this rope, I could…

He yanked it tighter. “If I have to come get the damn phone, I’ll need to Taser you first.”

Bad, bad idea. Been there, done that. Not going there again. I managed to reach in my pocket, but the rope took a nasty hunk of skin off my arm, and it hurt like hell. I barely got a grip on the edge of the phone, lifted it out of my pocket, then dropped it.

Ghost Guy motioned me to back off. When I’d moved out of kicking distance, he jerked the rope again. “Hold it.” He bent, scooped the phone up, pocketed it. “Okay. Keep moving. Enter the maze.”

I played with escape scenarios, planned a few possibilities between here and the cottage, and then another one from inside the building. The first opportunity was about twenty-five yards ahead, right after we exited the maze. Since I couldn’t make my move yet, I figured I should use the time productively. “How did you find me?”

“Friends in high places. You can’t trust anyone, Sweeting.”

My skin crawled. “Sweeting, my ass. What friends?”

“You’re as bad as your mama with the questions.” He chuckled. “Her boss maybe didn’t have her best interests at heart.”

Fred? Was this asshole talking about Fred? He’d definitely called it right if he was. “What—”

He yanked the rope. “Enough questions. Shut the fuck up and walk.”

I shut up. Better for him to believe he’d scared me into helplessness. I maintained silence for a few seconds, but the quiet wore holes in my curiosity. “How do you know Millie and Harlan?”

“Don’t know them. Know of them through my assets.”

Assets. GG had used several different accents when he talked. I’d picked up on a smattering of French, and a lot of British, but they were layered on top of something else. A base language I was unfamiliar with. “Where are you from?”

“The Motherland. There was no better place.”

Past tense. Did that mean he’d been away from home a long time? Motherland. Russia. Well, hell. “Are you former KGB?”

Another loud belt of laughter. “There is no such thing as
former
. Once KGB, always, KGB. Isn’t that what you Americans would say?”

Fion Connor had been a double agent, British and KGB. If this guy held an equal rank with Fred, that would make him… “Was Fion Connor one of your agents?”

“And Loyria Gray’s progeny puts the pieces together.” He clapped his hands, slowly, pausing between each clap.

I twisted to look at him. If he could clap, where the hell was the shotgun? And how loose was his hold on the rope?

“About face.” His shout echoed in my ears.

I obeyed. He’d been holding the Benelli by his side, but before I could blink he had it aimed and ready, and his grip on the rope had tightened, making me stumble. He was quick, considering he looked like death. Something for me to consider when we reached my escape path.

He’d been right on about me fitting puzzle pieces together, but they weren’t falling into place quick enough. If he was KGB, why wasn’t he carrying a Russian weapon? The Benelli was standard issue Navy SEAL equipment. There was something way off about that discrepancy, but I didn’t have time to prod him about it. My escape trail was coming up fast. I prepped with a few deep breaths, ran through the moves that would break his hold on the rope and…