Hush (34 page)

“I suppose …” His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror.

“Okay. Let's backtrack a bit. You started seeing the numbers precisely when?”

“At the mission.”

“The second you woke up?”

“No … The nun came in to check up on me. I insisted she take out the IV. I took a shower. I don't remember seeing anything odd. Sister Clemencia came back in all pissy because you were out drinking and carousing …” Zak frowned as he took a right at the sign for Maiquetia Simon Bolívar Airport. Traffic was light at this time of night. No one was following them. Good. They were getting close to the plane. Even better.

But Acadia didn't relax her guard; her hand was still under the folded map, her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun.

“She had a dinner tray. She put it down … No, my watch was in the way. I put it on to get it—” His frown deepened. “My watch.”

“Take it off!”

“Hard to steer with my knee; you'll have to undo the strap.”

Acadia reached for his wrist, then paused, her hand on the steel band. “Are you seeing the numbers now?”

“Yeah.”

She unsnapped the clasp and let the heavy watch drop into her hand. “How about now?”

“I—Jesus. No. The numbers are completely gone. Put it on me again.”

She did so, laying the multifunctional watch over his strong wrist as he drove. She didn't even have it fastened before he said, incredulously, “And they're back. Jesus. This is just plain fucking weird.”

Acadia plucked it off him and turned it over. She flashed her penlight on the underside, and read out loud, “‘Gideon Stark. August 2008.' This is your brother's watch, Zak.”

“Oh, shit.” His voice was incredulous, his expression intent, as he juggled driving with wrapping his mind around the … visions? What were they?

Whatever they were, Acadia thought, it was unbelievable. “Do you each have the same one?”

He nodded. “Our maternal grandmother gave us each a watch for our birthdays that year. Mine in May, Gideon's in March. I must've grabbed the wrong one when we lit out of the guerrilla camp. Jesus, that's—”
Crazy?
“Stunning.”

“What if your brother's watch is somehow giving you his GPS coordinates?”

Zak eyes narrowed. “How is this even possible?”

Acadia bit her lip. How
would
it be possible? Unless …
St. Christopher protected travelers; maybe he—or some other saint or power or, hell, she didn't know, the bond between brothers—protected him still? “Zak, I know this sounds …” She hesitated, staring down at the map. “Well, it sounds crazy. But I think when you died in surgery at the mission”—her voice cracked—“you flatlined and were pronounced clinically dead. I think when you were shocked back to life, somehow you developed this amazing new sense.”

“Come on, that's ridic—”

Acadia leaned over, using both hands to refasten the watch on his wrist. “Say that again.”

He blinked. The airport was coming up, a low white building brightly lit, with a full parking lot of coming-and-going traffic. And the numbers instantly materialized to move from left to right in the lower quadrant of his vision. “Read off the coordinates again,” he demanded tightly. “Without the degrees or spaces.”

Heart pounding with excitement, Acadia carefully ran one finger across the top of the map and another down the side. “55836232859675625355565? That's it, isn't it?”

He heard the numbers said out loud and mentally read them as they scrolled in his head. It was … God. He didn't know what to think. But … “Jesus, Acadia! I know how to find Gideon—we'll be able to go right to him.”

She placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed, and Zak realized he didn't need to vocalize the amazement and heartfelt relief he felt. He didn't need to tell her that what he was experiencing was profound. Terrifying. Overwhelming. Inexplicable.

He knew he didn't need to say any of it, because she got it. All of it. She got
him
. And more amazing, she wasn't hysterical or crying or freaking out in the slightest. She just accepted him, as he was, without reservation.

Zak wished with everything in him that he didn't have to put her on a plane. Wished he didn't have to kiss her good-bye. Wished … Hell, he wished a lot of things; that didn't mean any of them were going to come true.

“Aren't we going through the terminal?” she asked, her palm stroking up and down his thigh in a comforting gesture that somehow soothed his soul. More, it calmed the fear he'd been carrying around inside him since Gid had insisted they split up in the jungle a lifetime ago.

“The company jet will be at the auxiliary terminal,” he explained. “It's only about a quarter of a mile from here. Don't worry. No one followed us.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “It's not me I'm worried about.”

“I'll be fine. Now that I know where Gideon is, I'll go and retrieve him right away, whether he's free or a prisoner.”

“You have a propensity for getting into trouble, Zakary Stark. What are you going to do without me and my magic pockets there to help you?” She said it teasingly, but there was an undercurrent of fear in her voice.

Jesus, he didn't want her to go. Didn't want to be parted from her, but couldn't allow her to stay.

Zak was surprised to see that Buck had sent the Falcon. It was a small jet that seated only twenty.
Admittedly, twenty in absolute luxury. But not the plane he would've chosen to transport a bunch of ex-military guys and their equipment. Still, the plane was here, the pilot was onboard, and Acadia would have two trained, professional bodyguards to escort her home.

The situation he was going back to was going to be fraught with danger, even with skilled personnel on hand. He had no idea what condition he'd find Gideon in. No idea how many men Loida Piñero would have with her this time. The extraction was going to be a bitch, and he didn't want Acadia anywhere near it.

Or anywhere near him, when he hit the boiling point and bullets went flying. “But I'll be much better able to do what I need to do if I know you're home in the States,” he added, and knew that wasn't a lie. “Safe and sound.”

She glanced out of the window as Zak drove out on the tarmac to get closer to the Falcon. “I could wait here,” she offered. “You said there are two guys plus the pilot. Look around. No one can get near the plane without us seeing th—”

“Acadia?” He pulled the police car up near the stairs, the interior lights turned on in warm, civilized welcome.

She glared at him. “What?”

Zak bit back a smile at her belligerence. “Does flying make you nervous?”

“No.” She opened her door and got out of the car, and he followed suit, walking around to stand toe-to-toe with her.

He cupped her face between his hands. Even though it was a warm, muggy night, her skin was cool. Her gray eyes were dark and stormy as she looked up at him.

Zak stroked his thumbs across her cheekbones, his chest tight and constricted. Fuckit. He didn't like good-byes. “Then why are you scared?”

“Scared? Me? No, I'm not.”

“Very chatty and lying.”

She gave him a cross look, but brought her hands up to cover the backs of his fingers against her face. “Nobody has ever made me as nervous as you do, Zakary Stark.”

He brushed a kiss over her soft, trembling mouth, and said against her lips, “You make me nervous, too.”

“I make you nervous?” She huffed out a laugh. “There's nothing in this universe that makes you nervous.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair as she stood on tiptoe to meet his mouth. “You'd be surprised.” He couldn't begin to tell her how he felt; he was having a hard enough time admitting it to himself. So he let his kiss do what he couldn't: tease her, tempt her. Praise her. Thank her. His tongue touched the very corner of her mouth, slid over her lower lip, as she staunchly tried to remain unmoved.

He liked her melting in his hands, too, and backed her against the car. She shuddered, lips opening under his gentle assault, as he fitted her lush curves against his body, sliding his hands into her loose hair to deepen his kiss.

She tasted sweet and sad and like heaven all at once. The numbers slid through his mind, but all he could smell, taste, feel was the woman in his arms. He heard her uneven breathing, felt the rapid beat of her heart against his chest as her tongue rubbed sleekly against his. Or maybe that was his heartbeat.

Fuckit.

He reluctantly broke away. “The engine's running; they're ready to take off. Come on.”

Acadia put her hand on his arm, her gaze steady despite the flush in her cheeks. “I'm a big girl. There's no need. Go find Gideon.”

Zak wrapped his good arm around her waist. “Come on. I want to strap you in and”—
have a few more moments with you
—“get you settled. You can sleep all the way to Kansas.” They walked up the stairs together. He didn't say he'd call her, and she didn't ask. Until he found Gideon, he couldn't and wouldn't think of anything else.

The door was open, and he wondered briefly why none of the men had at least come out to see why cops were parked out on the tarmac.

He ducked under the lintel and stepped inside the plane he'd been on dozens of times. Camel-colored plush leather appointments, polished teak. All the luxuries of home, thousands of feet in the air. The air-conditioning was on full, breathing a cold blast of air on their faces as Zak held Acadia right inside the door opening.

The hair on the back of his neck lifted as he noticed a faint reddish-brown handprint on the cockpit door.

Tightening his arms around her, he pivoted and dragged her back down the short flight of metal stairs in a flat-out and noisy run. “Get in the car! Go. Go. Go!”

Yanking open the driver's side door, he practically threw her across the seat, leaped into the car, and cranked the engine even before his door swung shut. He put his foot on the gas and hauled ass, the tires screeching as they raced across the tarmac.

“Zak? My God, what … I don't—”

She gave a muffled protest as Zak grabbed the top of her head and forced her down, her face on his thigh.

In the rearview mirror, the jet exploded. A ball of black smoke and orange fire rolled into the sky. Seconds later, the sonic impact slammed into the car.

FIFTEEN

T
heir vehicle levitated. The wheels spun with a high-pitched whine, then caught as they hit the ground with a jarring shudder. The police car slewed to one side, then skidded the other way before the tires grabbed traction on the tarmac. They sped across the runway like a bat out of hell.

Zak's muscles bulged and flexed as he fought the wheel, wrenching it into the spins. A quick glimpse at his feral expression and Acadia braced her feet and gripped the dash with both hands. He floored the pedal.

Shell-shocked and disoriented, Acadia turned to look back. It look just like it sounded. A
big
freaking explosion. “What—What the hell just happened?” Her voice was as unsteady as her heartbeats.

She dropped back into her seat and studied Zak. Jaw rigid, eyes intense, his entire focus was on the road ahead. He had both hands on the wheel, and he wasn't wearing the sling. The fact that he'd pull out his stitches if he exerted that much pressure and movement on his shoulder didn't seem to register. Or maybe—she caught
her breath—perhaps this life-versus-death thing was just how he lived.

“I don't understand what the fuck's happening either,” he growled, violence leashed in every word, “but I'm starting to, and—
Fuckit!
” He slammed his palm on the wheel.

Acadia didn't know what to do. How to help. She sat rigid and quiet, her heart beating too hard and too fast. Even when a pair of fire engines and half a dozen police cars with lights and sirens blazing came toward them from the terminal, she didn't say a word. Hadn't she just left the scene of another explosion and escaped another parking lot filled with emergency vehicles? It was some kind of terrible déjà vu.