Hearts Out of Time (15 page)

“It’s no wonder William could achieve so much,” he said in awe. “Microscopes, chemistry sets to test samples, a mass spectrometer, and even a gas chromatograph. Had it not been for his extensive teachings, I wouldn’t recognize . . .” His voice trailed off while she grimaced with disappointment, not the least interested in chemistry or mass spectrometers.

“Yeah, Dad’s a hoot. Did you find something apart from these instruments?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Only a lavatory.”

“Then let’s move on.”

“As you wish.”

The next fair-sized lab looked pretty much the same to her, although Garrett seemed to be of a different opinion. Eyes glowing with anticipation, he looked as excited as a child unwrapping his birthday gifts. “Look over there. These are thermal cyclers for a Polymerase Chain Reaction. They’re used for DNA sequencing.”

“No kidding,” she mumbled in a bored voice, wanting out. This place was just an upgrade from middle school science and the whole thing was starting to freak her out. Where was the damn painting? Lost forever?

“I’d wager William used the DNA in your blown breath to unlock the trapdoors and whatever security system he devised. Hence, you’d have sole access to his complex. That’s very clever indeed.”

“Yep. Good one, Dad.”

Garrett ignored her comment as he stared at the thermal cyclers for a while longer. After a last good-bye look at the containers, he left the room, crossed the hallway, and opened another door on the left side. “God in Heaven.”

Chapter 15

Unbelievably good news or false alarm again? Heart pounding, Tracy caught up with him, just to be sure, and stepped into yet another large room holding boilers or cisterns or whatever these radiant green tanks were.

“What’s this?” she asked Garrett.

“The heart of the complex. This is the power source, self-sufficient and in control of the whole system. Only last week, William hinted at this power source. I wish he were here today to enlighten me.”

“Sure he would.”

If her dad was here, they’d get him the hell out but surely not waste time to enlighten whatever needed enlightening. Men could be so obtuse sometimes, small wonder they complained about not understanding women.

Far from her train of thought, Garrett spoke with slowness and admiration as one of his hands hovered above the biggest tank. “The more I ponder, the more I believe we’re standing below a magnetic field connected to the hellhounds.”

“You don’t say.” Her retort came out just a little too loud but the fate of the robot-creatures passed way over her head. She dismissed her unladylike breach of etiquette with a shrug and walked to the back of the lab to check behind the boilers. Luck hadn’t been on their side up to now but against reason or logic, she hoped.

She assessed the painting’s away-ness at first glance and uttered a loud sigh.

Garrett went to the door, holding it open for her. “I’m sorry, Miss Rich . . . Tracy.”

Before she had enough presence of mind to mention his blunder, he pulled himself together with grace. “I should have realized all this is of no particular interest to you. Come, we may find the painting in the next room.”

He called her Tracy although his
oh-yes-make-me-come
wasn’t out of his pants. Wow! She moved past him, out of the room, along the corridor, and to the next door. No handle here, but some kind of security system that looked like a bottle cap, or a gray circle inserted in the center of the door.

Wild hope struck her when she saw the security system. The painting must be in this room because a locked door always meant the last obstacle to the treasure. Always. She had seen enough blockbusters to be well aware of that. Unless of course hit movies were exclusively fantasy works, illusory spawns of brain-distorted film directors.

She glanced at Garrett.

When he nodded, she took a deep breath and blew in the circle.

The door unlocked with a soft
click
.

Bingo. She pushed the panel open and faced a kind of a storeroom with small, empty cages and cardboard boxes lining the walls on both sides. She moved between rows, Garrett on her heels.

Hollywood movies must be unreliable as well as inaccurate because the painting was nowhere in sight. So much for her hunch. So much for countless hours in front of her screen watching flicks.

She was about to double-back when she spotted a bundle on the floor, against the back wall. A brown mass that suddenly stirred.

“Oh my God.” She leaped across the room. Heart in her mouth, she kneeled next to the bundle and tugged at the dirty brown blanket. “Dad? Daddy, can you hear me?”

Garrett crouched beside her, his gaze hopeful, and raised the unconscious man’s wrist to feel for a beat. “He’s alive. However, I fear his pulse is a tad faint. We must transport him to the train without delay.”

Eyes closed, face ashen, a thin cut on his neck, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and cheeks, her father looked weak. She barely heard what Garrett said, feeling both numb and distraught with concern.

“Get up, Tracy,” Garrett ordered.

Moving required too much energy. Garrett spoke again, but this time, his harsh voice penetrated her brain and pulled her from immobile shock.

“Do not fail me now.” He lifted the unconscious man in his arms to carry him out.

She followed them, no other option coming to mind.

In the hallway, her father opened his eyes when she put her hand on his forehead. “Daddy . . . it’s me, Daddy.”

His eyes didn’t focus, but he managed to wave feeble fingers toward the last door featuring another bottle cap to blow in.

This panel slid sideways with her breath and they gathered inside an elevator.

On the right side, two disk-shaped dials glittered under the glare of electrical light. He indicated the black one first, then the red. She obeyed his silent instructions and turned them. The elevator door closed, only to slide open again a few seconds later as fresh air wafted into their noses.

Garrett stepped out first and, probably relying on his sense of direction, motioned with his head. “We’re in the mines. Look, the entrance is right over there.”

She glanced at her father, way too quiet for her taste.

Despite his weakness, he murmured when he caught her concerned expression, “Put me down. I can walk.”

He couldn’t really, clinging to their shoulders for support, but they were able to drag him along, his head lolling all the way to
The Drifter
still sitting on the track. Jake had waited for them.

Early morning greeted them, the sun rising in its own good time. Yet she sensed something amiss. As she reflected on the odd sensation, she figured out the use for the black switch in the elevator. The hellhounds had vanished, gone back down to where they belonged. The ground was just ground, dust and soil.

They boarded the train as relieved shouts greeted their appearance. Jake appeared sullen.

Still in obvious pain from his wound, Weedon fetched fresh water while Jessica helped them to carry her dad to the bedroom. He managed to drink a little before passing out again.

Feeling incompetent, Tracy refreshed his brow with a damp cloth while Garrett ushered their friends out.

Once alone, he turned to her. “You cannot do more, Tracy. We shall call for a physician as soon as we arrive in San Francisco. William is a strong man. He will come through this.”

“I know. It’s just that he looks so weak, so tired. I wish there was something I could do, anything better than wetting his forehead.”

Actually, she could sit him in the telepod and drive him to a twenty-first century hospital. Yeah, but that meant leaving Garrett behind.

Was she ready for that? Besides, her dad wasn’t the type to fuss over a scratch. She dropped the cloth in the bowl of water, tucked the blue bedspread over her father’s chest, and stood.

“Promise me Dad will be all right?” She heard childish lilts in her voice, wishing Garrett would embrace her. She expelled a sigh when he did and stroked her hair in a soothing gesture, his solemn words warming her heart.

“Upon my word.”

She’d have liked this tender moment to last all the way to San Francisco.

Garrett slid a finger under her chin to raise her head. “You need to recuperate your strength as well. Would you care to share breakfast with me and our companions?”

Although being in his arms felt way better than bliss, she had to concede she was thirsty and hungry. Ravenous, actually. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“I seem to recall you mentioning you were fully satisfied this morning.” His teasing tone flirted with huskiness.

She freed herself from his embrace to stare at him, disbelieving this turn of events and his playful smile. “Garrett? Are you kidding?”

“It may be so.”

“Gee, you should do that more often.”

He ran light fingertips along her jawline while she observed his relaxed features and glinting gaze. Watching her lips, he seized her again, lust and frustration whirling in his dark eyes.

They stood still, gazing at each other, confounded by the fierceness of their hunger, the sort of hunger that had nothing to do with food.

Garrett got a grip on himself before her, and broke the spell. “Err . . . we should not . . . we’d better join the others.”

Oh well, his bold impulse didn’t last long. Still, it was an improvement. She grinned at him, playing on his temporary weakness. “Afraid to take up the challenge, are we? Maybe it’s because I—”

His lips crushed hers, taking her breath away. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, awakening all her senses in a heartbeat. He wasn’t kissing her, he was consuming her, devouring her.

Everything except his ravaging contact faded away. Gone were the worries, the recurring doubts and the pounding fears. All of them just gone.

Garrett kissed her deep and hard, eliciting with his tongue only happiness, satisfaction, and sweet pleasure. When he finally raised his head, they were both breathless. A throbbing desire dampened her panties as a solid lump brushed her belly.

Without doubt, a crucial moment in their hectic relationship was upon them and she knew he’d give in if she touched him. Just the slightest hint and he’d sweep her into his arms without a backward glance, take her to the stable car, and make devilish love to her right there in the straw.

Oh yeah, she
was
crying out for heavenly kisses and long, hard thrusts piercing her body right through, but not at all costs. She had the certainty he’d yield to lust and tumble her in the straw, but she wanted commitment.

Hell, she
deserved
commitment.

She took a step backward, parting their bodies, and instantly read puzzlement and confusion in Garrett’s eyes, in the way he stood.

“You’re right, Garrett. We should go and enjoy a humungous breakfast. Give me a minute to check on Dad, and I’ll join you.”

“Go ahead. I shall tend him.” He swallowed his obvious disappointment like a well-bred man who allegedly lived for higher considerations.

She concealed a grin. “It’s okay. Really, I don’t mind. I’m not going to pass out because I skip a meal. I can very well—”

“No, Tracy. I wish for a moment alone.”

She was about to object when she noticed his discomfort. His uneasy shifting struck the right chord and she began babbling. “Holy moley, I see. I’m so sorry . . . of course, you need a moment. I mean, you know I didn’t mean to . . .”

Heat flaring up her cheeks, she shut up before taking a long breath and retreating toward the carriage door. “Don’t mind me. I’m already gone.”

She wheeled around to get out of there as fast as her legs allowed, wishing he’d forget about this awkward incident. Without minimizing her own embarrassment, she had bigger fish to fry.

The Drifter
clinked and clanged along the tracks. They were making their way back to San Francisco, and that was all that mattered. They didn’t find the irrelevant painting at this point, but who cared about a stupid safety catch anyway? Her dad was safe, and, God willing, he’d be back to his precious labs in no time.

In the parlor, her three traveling companions and a wolfdog were still having breakfast, but nobody appeared to be bursting with joy.

Weedon gestured her to join them as soon as she came in the car. “How’s your father?”

“Very weak.”

Sitting away from Weedon and White Fur, his face unreadable, Jake set his cup down on the table. “Did he say anything? Did he tell you where the painting is?”

“No. And, honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the damn painting. All I care about is Dad’s safety.”

The gunslinger opened his mouth again, but with a frown, Jessica waved him away.

Jake got up, sulkiness invading his features, while the vampire huntress gestured for her to sit down. “Of course you do, Tracy, and you must trust that William will be fine. At least you’re in good health. We were so worried about you and Garrett last night. We followed your trail but you’d disappeared.”

Tracy felt a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry about that, Jessica. Thanks for your concern. You’ve already done so much for me, all of you.”

Tracy included the men as well with a sweep of her hand.

“It’s been a pleasure and an honor to serve you, Tracy,” Jake said, reverting to his charming self, his blue eyes twinkling and roguish smile flashing.

Such an attractive and compelling man when he wasn’t in one of his moods, Tracy thought.

Weedon wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Take Dad back to San Francisco and call a doctor,” Tracy replied. “Beyond that, I don’t know. I guess we’ve got to wait until he feels strong enough to talk. He’s the only one who can tell us what happened to him.”

She’d barely finished her sentence when Garrett emerged from the car door, his eyes riveted on Jake.

“I, too, am unduly eager to hear William’s tale. Aren’t you, Cooper?”

After that, silence prevailed until they reached San Francisco by mid-afternoon. Tracy spent the day in the bedroom, sitting by her father, reading and pondering. At Oakland Long Wharf,
The Drifter
was turned over to service men for repairs. Garrett sent for a doctor straightaway once the ferry had transported them across the bay.

They all agreed to have a meeting at Garrett’s mansion as soon as her dad rested in a comfortable bed, but Jake left them to go to his place, invoking a need to freshen up. Jessica let him without a single comment.

The physician already waited for them when they got to the mansion on Nob Hill. He followed Garrett who carried her still-unconscious father to the guest room on the second floor. Servants brought drinks and snacks in the sitting room while the group waited for the prognosis.

A while later, the doctor came back downstairs. “Mister Richardson is suffering from a dehydration that led to shock and fever, but his life isn’t in any danger if he takes care. I gave him a tincture. Make sure he drinks and rests as much as he can.”

“Gosh, I wish I had some aspirin,” Tracy said. Too late she remembered that she was a stranger in another dimension where this medicine might not exist.