Kiss and Tell (8 page)

The reality was Jake Dolan was a little too much man for her right now. She didn't have time to add a sexy male into her equation. Not just yet. She had to figure out who she was to herself before she tried to figure out what she was to a man.

She sighed. Trust her to start her quest with the most difficult challenge of all.

Her breath misted as she trudged back up through the trees. The soft sounds of breeze and leaves soothed her, as they always did. The crisp, piney mountain air filled her lungs. Her muscles pulled pleasantly as she retraced her steps to Jake's cabin.

If he had his way, she'd be gone by nightfall. Probably the best thing for both of them.

But her heart leaped at the thought of seeing him again.

It took only a second to open the front door and look inside to see he and Duchess hadn't returned. Disappointed, she updated her note and closed the front door, then headed in the opposite direction.

A few hours without rain and the river might have subsided enough to cross. She'd check it out, then come back to wait for Duchess. She wasn't leaving the mountain without her.

Marnie grinned. That sounded as good as any other excuse she might come up with. And it was valid.

The rain might have stopped, but by the look of the clouds it was about to return, or maybe snow. She hunched inside her coat, pulling the collar up. Regardless of the weather, she'd rather be outdoors than in, any day. She'd spent enough passive hours indoors to last a lifetime.

The undergrowth was thicker beneath the trees, and snow from several weeks ago had turned into patches of ice in the shady pockets. She scrambled down into the wide, shallow ravine, where the going was considerably easier.

The expanse of water-smooth stones was dry except for the narrow shimmer of water meandering down the center. The snowmelt and rain had collected behind the main dam about a mile upstream. The overflow raced furiously down the parallel tributary about two miles up the mountain. Two footbridges provided access to this side of the mountain.

For the next mile it would be easier to keep to the riverbed, but soon she'd have to climb the bank again and take the route through the trees. The higher she went, the steeper the sides became. Before she got to the towering wall of the lower dam, six stories of vertical cement, she'd cut off into the trees to reach the tributary and the upper bridge.

A thin trickle of water cascaded in a silver ribbon over the sixty-foot drop of the cement retaining wall, fed from a bigger dam higher up the mountain. It had been an unseasonably dry winter, and the upper lake had not been full enough this year to be opened. The lower dam was empty, the ravine dry but for this narrow trickle of water down the middle.

The two rivers ran parallel to the logging road, but that had been closed for more than thirty years, right after the lumber and mining had played out.

Forty minutes later Marnie clambered up onto the half-mile-wide spit of land between the two rivers. It wasn't far to the narrow cement footbridge; she could hear the rushing water.

A strange noise cut off her thoughts. The sound was so out of place in the pristine outdoors that it took her a moment to identify.

It was the metallic action of a gun being cocked, and was followed immediately by the low rumble of men's voices. They were close. Extremely close.

Instinctively she dropped to the ground. Flat on her stomach, she snaked slowly backward into the thick brush, then ruffled the greenery so she couldn't be seen. She hoped.

Moments later five men dressed in black from head to toe strode past her hiding place. Their clothing was a loose version of a wetsuit, their heads covered with a drape of the same rubbery matte black fabric, making them all appear identical – right down to the long, lethal, matte black knives strapped to their calves, the automatic weapons slung over their shoulders, and the small, snub-nosed pistols in their gloved hands. One man spoke briefly and quietly in a foreign language. Another answered. Then they were eerily quiet.

Was one of them Jake Dolan? Was that why he was in such a hurry to get rid of her?

Either way this did not look good. Not good at all.

Marnie's mouth went dry and her heart started to beat faster as they passed within feet of her hiding place.

The wet leaves and earth soaked the front of her jacket and jeans, but she dared not move. Her eyes burned from trying not to blink. Who were these guys? Survivalists? No. They reminded her of ninjas or something out of a James Bond movie.

They looked like professionals. But professional what?

They moved so stealthily, so quietly, that if she hadn't known exactly where to look, she wouldn't have seen them at all.

Heart pounding in her ears, Marnie waited for the men to disappear from view. But no sooner had the trees swallowed them than another small group followed. Too frightened to breathe, she stayed frozen in place.

Whoever these men were, she was dead certain they had something to do with antisocial Jake Dolan.

*

It started to snow. So far just a light dusting, but by the look of the clouds they were in for one mother of a storm. Jake reluctantly headed back. There was a strange hush in the air. No animal sounds, no birds. Even the leaves seemed unnaturally still. He paused to listen. Nothing but the distant whisper of the river. Beside him Duchess stopped as well, ears swiveling.

Jake rested his hand on her large head, his gut sending up a warning flare. "What is it, girl?" he asked softly. "What do you hear?"

Duchess laid her ears back and growled deep in her throat. "Yeah," Jake agreed grimly, trusting his instincts. "I feel it, too. Go to Marnie, girl. Make sure she's okay." The dog cocked her head, looking at him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right behind you. Go!"

*

Her boobs were frozen. Marnie grimaced. Her entire front felt numb. It had been, she estimated, a good hour since she'd seen the last man. She flexed her fingers and contemplated the wisdom of standing up. A light dusting of snow coated her clothing and had melted into the knit cap, soaking her hair.

She decided to get up. If she didn't, she'd freeze to death.

She'd just shifted her feet under her when a large, icy hand clamped over her mouth.

Her heart ping-ponged in her chest.
Damn. Too soon.

She definitely didn't plan on screaming and alerting the guy's friends, but she didn't have four big brothers for nothing. Using both hands, she pressed her captor's hand in place over her mouth and bit down on his palm. He muttered a vicious curse. At the same time she twisted around, gave his forearm a hard chop with her elbow, and rose to an upright crouch.

His arm dropped away. They came eye to eye.

He scowled.

Jake.

She grinned. She couldn't help it. "There are a bunch of bad guys around," she whispered. "Why'd you have to grab
me?
"

"None of
them
look like screamers," Jake said dryly, his voice as soft as hers. "Watch out," he warned as Duchess nudged her from behind. He braced Marnie's shoulder, letting go the moment she regained her balance.

They sat on their haunches facing each other. Duchess looked from one to the other, then turned her back to watch the path, ears swiveling, eyes sharp.

Jake scanned Marnie up and down. "You okay?"

"Cold, wet, hungry. Fine," she said, using his brand of shorthand. His face ruddy with the cold, his dark hair tousled by the wind, he looked good enough to eat. "You?"

"Apparently batting a thousand this weekend." He gave her a penetrating look. "Who are your friends?"

"You saw them?" she whispered back, relieved.

Jake shook his head. "Felt them. Me and the dog."

"Yeah, well, they aren't
my
friends. They're the type my brothers warned me to avoid like the plague. And for once I'm inclined to listen. I think they've crashed our party and come calling on
you
."

He gave her an odd look. "How many?"

"I saw five. But there were more. I'm not certain how many."

"Physical description?"

"Black clothing, strange headdress. Professionals for sure. They all had Uzis slung over their shoulders, and small pistols. Their language was unfamiliar. I mean totally unfamiliar. I'm good with languages, but I didn't get a cl—"

"Don't ramble." He reached out and touched her frozen cheek. His warm breath fanned her face. He dropped his hand and draped it over his knee. "What else did you notice?"

"That's it."

"Close your eyes. Tell me what you saw."

"I told you, noth—" She closed her eyes. "Oh, wait. Each of them had a knife strapped to his leg. Right calf. No scabbard. The blades were about twelve inches long." She opened her eyes to look at him. "They were made out of some weird metal. Matte. Black. Sharp. Nasty-looking."

"Good. Anything else?" he asked grimly, his eyes scanning her face for God only knew what. "You were unusually observant," he said roughly. "Sure you didn't recognize any of them?"

"I'm an artist. Of course I notice details. But I can't recognize people I don't know, especially if their faces are covered. And trust me, Jake Dolan, those guys aren't in my little black book."

She sounded indignant enough to be convincing. But then, so had good old Soledad – just before she kneed him in the balls and tried to give him a Colombian necktie.

Marnie would have fought to the death, Jake realized, rubbing his smarting palm where she'd bitten him. But for which side?

The woman was a mass of contradictions. She should have fainted the second he clamped his hand over her mouth. Hell, she should have freaked out when she saw the men. But she hadn't.

Bravery or conspiracy?

She wasn't going to cooperate with his stereotypical notion of a delicate blonde. Nevertheless, he wasn't about to be taken in again. The timing of her presence couldn't have been worse. And the similarities to the journalist six years ago were too obvious to be coincidence. Yet he couldn't believe the enemy would think him fool enough to be conned the same way twice.

"What do they want?"

Lord, her mouth looks like sin when she whispers.

"My ass, sweet cheeks. My ass. You're in the wrong place at the wrong time."

By her description of the assassins he had a damn good idea who they were. But Judas, he didn't want to believe what his gut was telling him. Believe it or not, he had to be prepared. And he would be, once he could get rid of the girl. ASAP. She was a complication he couldn't afford.

So his enemies were upping the ante, were they? How the hell had they tracked him here?

"You could be wrong." She shivered, and he knew it wasn't just from the frigid cold. "They could be here to...to...something!" She sounded panicky.

"I'm going to get you across the river,"
Out of my hair one way or the other.

"Good. You'll come with me?"

"And look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? No, thanks. They started this. I'll finish it. Here. Now."

She grabbed his wrist and held on, her fingers cold. "Who
are
you?"

He hesitated. "A security expert."

"Bull."

"The information is on a need-to-know basis. You don't need to know. We'll wait another fifteen minutes. If there's no more activity, we'll head for the bridge."

"What about Duchess?" The edge of fear crept back into her voice. The dog's ears swiveled, either at the sound of her name, or the tone in her mistress's voice.

"I'll try to get her over, too. If not, she's not stupid. She'll head for the cabin and keep out of sight. I'll make sure she's returned to you."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"How, if you're dead?" She looked him straight in the eye without flinching. "Tell me how you think you can fight all those men by yourself!"

"You'll get your dog back. On my word."

"You'll see her personally to my front door in Sunnyvale."

"You'll get the dog back."

"You," she insisted roughly, "personally. To my front door." Snow, like bits of lint, drifted around them. Her cheeks were pink with the cold, her eyes hot, her mouth— He jerked his gaze to the soft strands of wind-ruffled fair hair framing her face.

Without thinking, Jake tucked a strand back under her damp knit cap. It felt like the finest Chinese silk. A few filaments caught on the calluses on his thumb. He absently rubbed the silky length between his fingers, getting more pleasure than he deserved from the small tactile treat.

His eyes met hers, and he saw they held a gleam of fear, anger, and anticipation. He let his gaze skim down and linger on her mouth.

Plump, soft, arousing.
Don't go there, buddy
. His blood pounded, a compelling primal beat.

Marnie narrowed her eyes at that look. "Don't change the subject!"

Jake dipped his head. He just wanted a taste. A refresher, to see if their last kiss could possibly have been as profound as he remembered.

He didn't want to talk about hand-delivering her dog. He didn't want to think about all the wet work he had to do in the next few hours. He didn't want to contemplate what he would have to do to her if the visitors were her allies.

They had another fifteen minutes together, tops. The last kiss they shared was to be quick. Quick, he promised himself, touching his mouth to hers.

*

God, he tastes good
. Desire shot through her. Shocking and intense. How could a mere kiss affect every nerve ending in her body? She could have gone on kissing him forever.

The second he stopped kissing her, Marnie opened her eyes and gave him a mild look, as if the kiss had been no big deal. But her heart was going a million miles an hour.

He gave her a quirky look back, then picked up a goopy handful of mud. Resigned, she closed her eyes again, knowing what he was about to do.

"You're sure this is absolutely necessary?"

"I'm not taking any chances." He smoothed it over her cheeks and chin. Icy mud. Warm hands. "Okay, open."

She opened her eyes.

Duchess stood watching them, head tilted, eyes puzzled at this new game. The dog whined hopefully.