Lost in Shadows (22 page)

“KC and I are going down the mountain. You and Chase will have to guard The Preacher until the cavalry arrives.”

“You’re what?” Lucky looked from one woman to the other. “How? No way—you’ll never make it.”

Vinnie began scooping heaping servings of eggs and sausage onto plates, handing two to KC. “He always so pessimistic?”

KC nodded. “Lucky likes facts, cause and effect—the unknown worries him.”

“Damn right it does,” Lucky said, resenting KC’s assessment. He wasn’t a pessimist—at least not until what happened last month. That night had pretty much proven that the worst usually did happen. “You’re one to talk, KC. Miss Prepare for the Worst, Hope for the Best.”

“Preparing doesn’t mean I always expect the worst,” she shot back.

Vinnie intervened. “Why don’t you and Chase eat in the other room? Lucky and I have some talking to do.”

KC wrinkled her nose at Lucky, then took the food into the other room. Vinnie brought two plates over to the table and sat down. 

Lucky still stood with the Taurus in his hand. He set the weapon to one side and slumped into his seat. He didn’t like the look on Vinnie’s face. That calm, almost angelic expression. 

Same one she’d had right before he’d lost every other argument that they had in the past twenty-four hours. That, say anything you like, I’m right and I know it, look.

“How are you going to get down the mountain?” He kept his voice neutral, the voice of reason. Logic would force her to abandon her crazy plan.

“Ski.” She nodded to the corner near the fireplace where two sets of skis leaned next to the door to the woodshed. “Good thing I treated myself to a new pair for Christmas.”

“You’re going to ski, in the dark, through a forest, down a mountain that’s crawling with The Preacher’s men?” It was difficult to keep the incredulity out of his voice. 

He took a bite of food to cover his emotions and nearly wept for joy as his taste buds grabbed his attention away from their predicament. Delicious. The sausage had a different flavor than he’d ever tasted before.

“The road’s closed, so they’re stuck too. At least until daylight when they can get another helicopter up here.” She looked at him. “What? You don’t think I can do it? I know this mountain better than—”

Lucky shook his head. His objection to her plan had nothing to do with any doubts that Vinnie could succeed; she was maybe the only person who could pull this off. 

“I don’t want you to go alone.” He almost choked on his words, looked down at his plate so that she wouldn’t see how hard this was for him.

“I won’t be alone. KC will be with me.” Her voice trailed off, and he felt her gaze on him. “Oh,” she breathed out the syllable and it circled in the air between them. “Lucky, you know—I mean, we talked, I told you—”

Lucky looked up, hopeful that her faltering meant she’d reconsidered. She had told him from the start that what they shared didn’t mean the same to her as it did to him, she’d been totally honest in that, he was the idiot who kept blundering into her boundaries, hoping that sooner or later they would crumble like the walls of Jericho.

That small flicker of hope died when he saw the distant look on her face. A hard look, as if she had steeled herself to disappoint him once more. 

He saved her the trouble.

“I know,” he said. “My fault. A scientist should know better than to assume.”

“Lucky—” 

He thought he heard pity in her voice and winced. Anything but that, he couldn’t bear that.

“What kind of sausage is this?” he asked, shoving his mouth full of food before he could say something else he would regret. “It’s really good.”

There was a long pause before she answered, but when she did her voice was back to normal. And once again, they were right back where they started. “Thanks. My mom’s recipe, it’s venison. The trick is using fresh sage and a pinch of fennel.”

They finished the meal in silence. While he stacked the dishes, she efficiently put together fanny packs with the necessities for her and KC. Vinnie rapped on the door before entering the bedroom, and a few seconds later KC emerged. 

Lucky wasn’t sure what all she and Chase could be doing with The Preacher right there and Chase’s injury, but her face was flushed. Then he saw the red-rimmed eyes that her tears had left behind.

Maybe it was better Vinnie didn’t know how he felt. Easier on both of them. Well, at least one of them.

KC sniffed and began to sort through the weapons, but her hands shook slightly and her eyes kept darting back toward the bedroom. Lucky wished there was something he could say that would make her feel better about leaving Chase behind.

“Nothing’s going to happen to him while I’m around,” was the best he could come up with.

KC’s head snapped up, and her gaze locked onto his. “I’m going to hold you to that, Cavanaugh.”

CHAPTER 33

Vinnie wasn’t claustrophobic, but suddenly she felt like her cabin was too small, as if the walls were closing in and there wasn’t enough air to breathe. 

No wonder, she thought, edging past The Preacher to reach her dresser. Too many people. 

The only people who’d ever been here before were her parents and her supervising ranger. Never so many strangers, so much emotion cramped between the walls that she could feel it pressing down on her. 

Chase’s pain and frustration at being immobilized. KC’s determination that she could save Chase along with her hatred of The Preacher. 

Lucky’s fear, anger, despair, love—Lucky was the hardest to fight against. Vinnie felt his emotions, his feelings for her swirl around her, ready to swamp her as fast as a Class VI rapid. 

She took a deep breath, her chest tight, fighting her. The worst thing was, she wanted to let Lucky pull her in. 

Part of her wanted to drown, be overwhelmed by his love for her, to give in to his warmth, feed off his strength, enjoy the security of having a strong man at her side. She remembered so vividly how it felt, that feeling of finding your balance in a precarious universe, that nothing could ever hurt you again as long as he was there.

Vinnie was desperate to own that feeling again. And just as desperate to avoid the pain, the heart searing agony, that came when love was lost. 

So she straddled the two extremes, like walking the tightrope bridge across the gorge that morning, hoping she could continue to maintain her balance between falling in love with Lucky and falling apart once she lost him.

“One foot in front of the other,” she whispered. Just don’t fall.

“You okay?” Chase’s voice cut through her musings.

“Yeah. Just want to change into some dry clothes before we go.” She rummaged through her dresser drawers, grabbing CoolMax tights and top. She was going to be working hard, sweating during the trip down the mountain, so she didn’t want to overheat. 

Her fingers brushed against a soft piece of cloth wrapped around a small piece of metal, and she froze.

Oh, God. She sniffed back tears and opened the man’s white handkerchief. An oval nickel medallion lay in the middle. The Archangel Michael, patron saint of police officers. Sure as hell hadn’t done her Michael much good.

Her fingers grew sweaty as she rubbed them over the medal’s embossed image. She closed her eyes for a moment, let the medal drop back into the drawer.

“KC said this was your idea.” 

Vinnie grabbed the handkerchief and her bundle of clothing, turned to face Chase. He wasn’t angry like she thought he might be. Instead he smiled at her. 

“It was a good idea. Thank you.”

“For what?” The Preacher’s snide voice cut in. “Getting your woman killed?”

“Why don’t you just shut up!” Vinnie snarled, whirling on the captive man. “Lucky came back from the dead to defeat you last month, we both outsmarted you how many times today? You don’t scare me, you son of a bitch.”

The odious man merely craned his head back and grinned at her. “Maybe not yet,” he whispered. “But, I promise you, Mrs. Ryan, next time we meet, I will.”

Vinnie walked away, trying to ignore the knot of fear that choked her throat. She returned to the kitchen and quickly changed. KC was ready to go as well. Now or never, Vinnie thought.

One last thing to do before she went. Just in case. Lucky sat, watching her in silence, his face showing more pain than it had after he was shot. Vinnie hesitated. God, she hated doing this. KC took the skis outside to the porch, giving them both one last look before she shut the door.

Vinnie moved to stand beside Lucky, uncertain how to say what she wanted to say without hurting him further. “I promised I would get you off this mountain alive,” she started. “I always keep my promises.”

The look he gave her was full of anguish, and she regretted saying anything. 

This was all her fault, should have never let anything happen last night. Weak, she’d been weak. Now she had to be strong, prevent him from suffering any more pain on her behalf. She laid the handkerchief on the table, near his hand.

“Just wanted to return this before I left.” It was a fight to keep her voice steady. She cleared her throat and took a step to the door. “Thanks.”

A small sound came from him, and she stopped. He grabbed at her hand. 

“Still got my rabbit’s foot?” he surprised her by asking. Vinnie nodded, pulled it from her shirt pocket, where it lay next to her heart. “Good. Keep it.”

Silence. She waited for him to say something more, then realized it was best for her to go now before he did. She slipped her hand free of his, immediately missing his warmth, and opened the door.

“Vinnie, be careful.” His voice followed her out into the winter night. “Please.”

CHAPTER 34

Billy stopped in his office doorway, surprised by the sight that greeted him. One of the four TVs, his constant companions, was tuned to the Weather Channel but the too-skinny form curled up in his desk chair paid it no heed.

Rose was sound asleep, her hands under her cheek like a child, bare feet tucked up beneath her legs. Her ebony hair glistened from a recent shower, curls tangling in a thick pillow that beckoned for a man to run his fingers through them. Billy took a step forward, then stopped, forcing himself to be content to merely observe and saturate himself in the moment.

Her face was perfectly relaxed, her body perfectly still. One of the few occasions Billy had ever glimpsed her not in constant motion. 

What really tugged at his heart was the small snuffling noise she made as she breathed, he worried she might be coming down with a cold.

For the millionth time since he had first met Rose, Billy wondered what it would be like to wake beside her every day, to be able to hold her body against his, to wrap his arms around her, protect her from the rest of the world and invite her into his universe.

He realized that he was holding his breath in an effort to indelibly etch the memory into his brain. He exhaled and retreated back into the hall. He closed the door behind him, but wasn’t sure why. 

Rose was not the type of leader who felt she could never allow her team to see her as human—one of the reasons why the men and women of STR felt compelled to push past what they thought they could do and achieve the impossible.

But he wanted, needed to keep that small, quiet moment private. Something for him to cherish alone, something untouched by the ugliness of the real world that Rose would return to as soon as she woke.

“Everything okay, Edge?” Hollywood asked, using Billy’s Delta nickname.

Billy turned his frustrations on the younger man. “I am trying to coordinate twenty-three simultaneous operations that encompass over thirty law enforcement agencies and some punk-ass local yokel Sheriff in Bumlick, Idaho is trying to screw it all to hell. So what do you think?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it under control. Teresa brought food over from the wedding that never happened, let’s go raid the galley.” 

Hollywood flashed one of his patented smiles, and they walked toward the communal kitchen area. They grabbed a table after filling plates with pigs in the blanket, paprikash and paczki. “I wanted to talk to you about this CDC doc. I think Rose is right, there is something hinky going on.”

“You told Rose you thought she was a nutjob.” Billy waited for Hollywood to make his case. 

Hollywood had a reputation as an excellent interrogator and surveillance expert during his days in the Navy. They said he could think like his quarry, put himself in the mind of his opponent in the interrogation room and have them leave thinking Hollywood was their best new buddy. After they gave up the goods.

But Hollywood’s relationships with women mirrored that of his relationships with his interrogation suspects: intense, dramatic and very short-lived. 

Billy wondered if maybe this blind spot when it came to women was exactly the reason Rose had hammered at Hollywood to keep on the Celeste Rayburn case even though it seemed unconnected to The Preacher’s attacks.

“She is a nutjob—but is she the kind of nutjob we think she is?” Hollywood continued. “See, I got to thinking. What if she’s set all this up to deflect suspicion from what’s she’s really up to? I called a friend at Hopkins. She said that you use the same equipment whether you’re working on bird viruses or human ones. But now that Rayburn has gotten her bosses to drum her out of the human side of the research—the side that’s considered a security risk—she could be doing anything in that lab of hers and no one would know until it’s too late.”

Billy frowned. Could be. But it was all theory, what he dealt in was facts. “Anything to back this up?”

“I did a background on Rayburn. She’s one serious, determined lady. I mean, you read this chick’s CV and you don’t need sleeping pills. She’s never done anything out of the ordinary her entire life. Not even a parking ticket. And now there’s charges of a boyfriend no one can prove ever existed, stalkers, psycho killers, insurance fraud—”

“You think she purposely made herself look unstable so that her boss would remove her from the high security lab?”