Lord of the Wolfyn and Twin Targets (33 page)

When he paused, she said softly, “Say it.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re the woman I love.” When his heart didn’t stop beating at the words, when the world kept going on around them and time kept passing, he let out a long breath. “I love you. Please tell me I’m not too late.”

S
YDNEY WANTED TO BELIEVE
him. The need pounded in her bloodstream and spun through her soul, but she held herself back. What if this was another move in the game he’d been playing all along? What if—

That was just it, she realized. There were too many what-ifs. She could think of far too many reasons for him to say he loved her, and almost all of them seemed more plausible than believing he’d really, truly come around.

It was far more likely that he’d found another angle to play than believing he was ready to change.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her heart breaking with the words. “I don’t know how to believe you.”

He closed his eyes on a wince of exquisite pain, then nodded sharply. “I understand. I can wait until you figure it out, because I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

Then, instead of turning away, he held her close. For a second, Sydney closed her eyes and simply absorbed the feel of him against her, and the sense of security—albeit false—that he brought her. Unable to do otherwise, she slid her hands up across his strong back and returned the embrace, pressing her cheek against his chest and letting his shirt absorb the moisture from her tears.

He brushed his lips across her temple, his lips barely moving as he whispered. “In about ninety seconds the guards are going to come back. I’m supposed to be convincing you to give up the password. He says if you do, he’ll let all of us go.”

Sydney stiffened. “Is that what this was all about? More games?”

He muttered a curse. “No. I was—and am—telling you the God’s honest truth. About my feelings and about what’s going to happen next. We don’t have much time, so listen carefully. I want you to give him the password.”

She started to pull away in shock, but he held her tightly, forestalling the move. That forced her to turn her face into his, so they were pressed cheek-to-cheek in a lover’s embrace when she whispered, “Why?”

“Bringing Tiberius down is my responsibility, not yours. You more than did your duty by giving us all the information you did. Everything else was just…me being a blind, judgmental idiot, I guess.”

A few days ago, even a few hours ago, she would’ve given anything to have him acknowledge such a thing.

Now it just ticked her off.

“No.” She put her hands flat on his chest and pushed, creating enough distance that she could look up and glare at him. “You don’t get to decide that now. You’re at least partially responsible for me being back here, so you’re darn well going to let me help fix what I did wrong.” She leaned in and touched her lips to his in the briefest hint of a kiss, and felt the surprise vibrate through his big frame. But it was just another move in the game he’d drawn her into, because she used the kiss to murmur, “Now listen up. I have an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me….”

W
HEN SHE’D FINISHED
explaining the plan, John growled, “No. Just give him the password and let me take care of the rest.”

“Sorry,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t take orders from you unless they make sense. These don’t. Besides, my way will work. You just have to trust me.”

And there it was.

“Is that what this is about?” he whispered. “Some sort of a test? It’s not enough for me to tell you I believe you?”

That made her eyes go sad. She drew away and touched his face, skimming the back of her knuckles along his stubble-roughened jaw. “Poor John. So used to being suspicious you don’t know how not to be.”

And then their time was up. The door slid open behind them and the guards reentered, followed by Tiberius himself.

The scholarly-looking bastard saw John and Sydney wrapped together in an embrace and his lips twitched. “Touching. Just behave yourselves and you might live long enough to do it again.”

When he moved toward them, John put himself in front of Sydney.

“Don’t be stupidly heroic,” Tiberius advised him. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned.” He paused. “Come on. Computer time.” He gestured Sydney to the computer terminal sitting on a desk nearby, no doubt the one she’d used to work on her sequence late at night when she’d been unable to sleep.

John could picture her there, all alone, and his anger at Tiberius only increased.

“Not here,” Sydney contradicted. “It’s got to be done on the computer where the program was originally input, or it won’t work.”

Tiberius stared at her, unblinking. “I think you’re bluffing.”

“Are you willing to take that chance?”

He was silent so long John thought he wasn’t going to agree. Then he did, turning away and jerking his head at the three guards. “Bring them to the lab. If either of them tries something, shoot them both. Leave the woman alive. If the agent dies, I won’t be too upset.”

The absolute unconcern in his voice was beyond chilling, giving a glimpse into the monster that lived within the professorial shell.

One of the guards grabbed Sydney and dragged her out into the hallway. John growled and lunged after the bastard, but the guard behind him slammed his rifle butt into John’s kidneys, driving him to his knees.

“Enough,” the guard behind him snapped. “Be glad there aren’t any holes in your girlfriend. Yet.”

The guards marched John and Sydney down the remainder of the hallway to where it dead-ended in a set of airlock-type doors that were plastered with biohazard decals and warnings. As they passed, John noticed that several of the doors were ajar, where they’d been closed and locked before. He caught a glimpse of living quarters, bare, with a scattering of debris that looked like a hasty evac.

He became aware of a low vibration running through the floor beneath his feet and the air around them. At first he thought it might be a generator running in the basement, powering the big compound. But the noise was new. He hadn’t heard it before.

When they passed an exterior door that was locked and barred, the sound became more distinct. It was a helicopter getting up to temp for takeoff. Beneath the rotor-thump, he thought he heard the sound of boats motoring off into the distance, as well.

Not a generator. A full-scale evacuation.

Time was running out.

One of the guards used his passkey to open the lab doors, and John realized that was an indication that the majority of the guards in the security hub were already gone, because otherwise they would’ve been buzzed in remotely.

As they moved through the doors into the lab, he caught Sydney’s eyes and saw the knowledge there. She nodded, and he saw fear, but no sign that she was ready to give up.

I love you,
he wanted to say again. He saw her eyes widen fractionally, as though she’d read the sentiment in his expression. Even thinking the words made him feel bigger and meaner and ready to fight to protect his woman.

Before, he’d thought of love as something that would make him weaker. Instead, it was making him strong.

He could only hope it would make him tough enough to get Sydney and his team off the island before it blew.

“You said you needed the input terminal.” Tiberius gestured to a row of low desks, each holding a computer connected to one or more pieces of high-tech lab equipment. “Do your thing.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

“Or?” she countered.

“Or I’ll have my men shoot Agent Sharpe here, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Responding to his boss’s threat, the guy behind John reversed his rifle, so it wasn’t the butt poking into his kidneys anymore, but rather the business end of the weapon. Which complicated things, but only a little.

Sydney looked over at him one last time.

“Give him what he wants,” John said. “He’s won.” He didn’t have to fake the frustration in his voice. They were too close to checkmate for his comfort. Far too close.

Eyes filming, Sydney nodded and crossed to one of the terminals. Sitting at the roll-away desk chair, she tapped the mouse to wake the screen out of saver mode. The cursor blinked against a blank field, with a one-word question glowing on the screen:
Password?

Sydney typed in something and hit Enter. The screen blanked for a second, then the same word returned:
Password?

She typed in a second string and hit Enter, and again the screen blanked before the password prompt returned. She typed in a third string.

Before she could hit Enter, Tiberius warned in a low growl, “Don’t play games with me, Sydney. You won’t like what happens.”

“I know what happens,” she said softly, almost whispering. “I remember what you did to Jenny Marie.”

Tiberius grabbed one of the guards’ weapons and crossed to her. He pressed the gun barrel to her temple and leaned over her. “Then what are you doing?”

John held himself still, barely breathing, fighting the mad impulse to leap across the room and rip the bastard away from Sydney. Things only got worse when she turned a little and glanced at him, and he saw her lips frame the words, “I’m sorry.”

Then she hit Enter.

The computer emitted a startled-sounding beep and the screen went dark. Half a second later, the power cut out completely, plunging them into darkness.

T
HE MOMENT THE LIGHTS
went out, Sydney flung herself backward in the chair. It rolled a few feet before it hit something and overbalanced, spilling her to the floor. She hit hard and saw stars but kept rolling, desperate to get away from Tiberius.

Gunfire exploded in the close confines of the lab, and she could hear equipment smashing to pieces. The scientist in her cringed as her auto-sequencers and PCR machines bit the dust, but the emerging patriot in her—along with her human survival instincts—wanted only to get out of the lab.

She heard a crash nearby, a volley of gunshots and rapid-fire masculine cursing.

Then silence. A single set of running footsteps. The sound of a door opening and slamming shut. More silence.

The darkness pressed around Sydney, making her feel very small and alone all of a sudden. She huddled up against the flat plane of a wall, barely daring to breathe. Where was John? Was he dead? Captured?

Had he, God forbid, left her there alone, still playing his game?

No,
she told herself firmly.
He wouldn’t. He loves me. He said so and I believe him.

Then, out of the darkness, his voice said, “Syd? You okay?”

Her breath exploded from her in a whoosh of relief. “I’m fine. You?”

“What did you do?”

“The first word killed the lab network permanently. The second and third together triggered another program that took the electric grid offline and FUBARed the rest of the networks on the island.”

“Of course it did.” But there was warmth in his voice rather than frustration. She heard the click of weaponry and clothing, presumably as he disarmed the guards he’d taken out. “Tiberius got away,” he said after a moment.

Which explained the footsteps and slamming door, damn it. “Think we can catch him?”

There was a pause, and she could almost feel the internal battle before he said, “Let’s find the others and get back to the boat. We’ll get him another time.”

“Which puts you back at square one,” Sydney said. Guilt stabbed at her. “You’re going to be back to hunting him without any really good connection to a prosecutable crime. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” She heard him move closer, felt his arms come around her. “And I’m not exactly back where I started, either.”

Then he kissed her, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

She leaned into him as warmth speared through her. The darkness created warm intimacy even as the feel of a pistol in one of his hands, pressing into her back when he gathered her close against the hard wall of his chest, kept the sense of danger close by, adding to the thrill.

Heat bloomed as he slanted his mouth across hers and took it deeper, need spiraling up to become lust, desire becoming almost an obsession.

Yet alongside the physical sensations, new, scary emotions took root.

She was safe in his arms, yet exposed. She felt raw, her emotions too close to the surface, too uncertain. She’d thought she loved him, but what did she know about loving a man? He’d been a challenge, a conquest. There didn’t seem to be any possible way for them to make it work. They were too different, and too alike in the wrong ways.

They were both stubborn and headstrong, and too used to running the show. If they tried to have a future, they’d probably wind up killing each other.

Then again, if they didn’t get their butts in gear, their future—shared or separate—was down to twelve minutes or so.

They broke apart by unspoken accord. “Time to go,” he said, voice rough with passion. He cleared his throat. “Here. Take this.”

He pressed a weapon into her hand.

The small pistol was heavier than she would’ve imagined, and warm from his body heat. Her fingers curled around the grip and found the trigger. “Just point and shoot?”

“There’s a safety.” He guided her finger to the little sliding bump along one side of the trigger guard.

“Which one’s off?”

“It’s already off. Just leave it there for now…and yeah, with the safety off, it’s point and shoot, but stick with me and it won’t come to that, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I’ll promise you whatever you want,” he said simply.

The sentiment had her heart lodging in her throat as she began to believe he really meant it. He loved her. The very idea of it had worlds opening up before her even as the time ran out around them.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, suddenly filled with renewed determination to get the hell off Rocky Cliff Island.

She’d done it once. She could do it again.

“Where do you think Tiberius is holding the others?”

She thought for a moment. “There are some wings I was never given access to.” Those had been the blanks on the blueprints that they’d tried to fill in from satellite images and guesswork. “If I had to guess, I’d say he keeps his prisoners somewhere on the ground floor, north wing.” She swallowed hard. “That’s closest to the cliffs.”

“Simplifying disposal of the bodies,” he said, following her train of thought. “Right. Let’s go.”

He led her through the blackness. She only stumbled once when her toe snagged on the cloth-covered, yielding surface of what she could only assume was one of the guards. She didn’t ask if they were alive or dead. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

When they reached the lab door, John cracked the panel and peeked into the hallway, which was slightly lighter than the lab, illuminated by daylight refracting from the living quarters through the half-open doors.

“Looks clear,” he murmured, and led her out into the hallway.

They worked their way back up to the main entrance, then took the door to the north wing. After the third time John paused to check around a corner, Sydney whispered, “It seems like everyone’s gone.”

“The helicopter noise hasn’t changed,” he whispered. “That means Tiberius is still on the island.”

“And I’m betting he’s furious.” For a second, she flashed back on Jenny Marie’s screams and suppressed a shudder. She’d come way too far to back out now. Either they found a way to locate Tiberius and take him out, or she’d be spending the rest of her life in witness protection, with or without John.

She instinctively tightened her fingers on the gun he’d given her. The feel of the bulky grip was simultaneously reassuring and intimidating. She liked knowing she could protect herself, but couldn’t picture herself shooting anyone.

Then again, if Tiberius was in her sights, she might be able to deal with it.

They checked the rooms one by one as they moved up the hallway. When they reached the sixth door, the one closest to the exit, they found it locked with a manual bolt in addition to the automatic locks, which had disengaged when the power cut out.

“Stand back,” John warned. When Sydney was out of range, he fired twice, then kicked the door in. He went first, then beckoned her into what was clearly a holding area—and probably served a more grisly role, as well, given the overhead sprinkler system and prominent drain in the center of the waterproofed floor.

Michael, Jimmy and Drew sat against the far wall with their legs stretched out in front of them, bound at their ankles and their arms fastened behind their backs. They sent up a quiet cheer when they recognized the figures in the doorway.

“Sydney, here.” John tossed her a knife, which he must’ve lifted from one of the guards back in the lab.

She fumbled the catch, trying not to drop the gun in her increasingly sweaty hands. Making an executive decision, she set the safety to ‘on’ and tucked the gun in her waistband, hoping like heck she’d gotten the on-off thing right.

Crouching down, she went to work on the bound men while John watched the doorway.

She freed Michael first and handed him the gun. “Here. You’ll have more use for this than me.”