Parallel Seduction Page 20

  "What's the description on the male and female?"

  Blake grinned. "Oh just you wait. You're gonna love me now." Walking toward him, Blake tossed the report and paperwork onto Chris's desk. "The guide described the woman as seeming blind, but not quite. Said she tried to pretend she could see, but it was obvious that she either had terrible eyesight or was only partially sighted."

  Chris slapped a palm against the desk. "Hell, yeah! That's my sis, all right."

  Blake nodded. "Well, and this snowmobile trek has her fingerprints all over it too: out in the wilderness, middle of danger."

  Chris's smile faded. "And in the line of fire." He leaped to his feet. "So when do we take off?"

  Blake karate-chopped his hands together in a timeout signal. "Hold up, buddy. You know this is going to be USAF all the way."

  "I'm working this case, Miles." Chris planted hands on both his hips, resolved and immovable. "No fucking way I'm sitting back, not when it's Hope who's involved."

  "I didn't say you weren't going." Blake picked up the folder again, flipping through the documents as he spoke. "But be aware that apparently a high-level pissing contest has been going on between headquarters and those guys. We're part of the joint task force, but definitely not at the helm. You know the USAF has always taken the lead on this kind of thing ever since 1947. And nobody at Headquarters has much liked that fact since then, neither. So two words—again. Pissing. Contest."

  Chris ground his teeth together. "Do I get to go or not?"

  "In a limited capacity." Blake gave him the look, the one that always meant Chris had better keep his rebellious attitude and aggressive methods back at the office. "Limited, Harper. Understand?"

  Chris grunted, grabbing the folder out of Blake's hand. Studying the report, he saw another detail that caught his eye. "A thousand dollars? That's a lot of money to go off trail."

  "Well, if you're intent on getting to your destination—for some purpose or another—not so much. These guys are clearly well financed."

  "And also well equipped: transports, heavy military weapons, planes. So why do they suddenly need to slap down almost a grand to get deep inside the park, and on a snowmobile, no less? And why does this guy take along a legally blind woman with him? Doesn't add up. Not when one of their cutting edge craft could've just dropped them down at Mirror Lake, saving them the James Bond routine."

  Blake stared down at Chris, studying him over the rims of his tortoiseshell glasses. "What are you getting at, Harper?"

  "Sounds to me like someone's gone rogue." Chris rubbed his tired eyes, pacing restlessly. "And taken my sis right along with him."

  "What have you said to your parents? Anything?"

  "Oh, that she's met some guy and fallen in love."

  Blake blanched visibly, pushing his glasses back up his nose with a nervous gesture. "You think that's true?" he asked, but his voice betrayed his deeper feelings for Hope.

  "I have no idea, but it was a good cover story for why she hadn't been checking in with them."

  Blake stared past Chris's shoulder, thoughtful. "Maybe that was the big enticement, going up there with Scott Dillon." They'd all read the transcripts, seen how she and the lieutenant had bonded during his captivity. A strange and fast intimacy had developed between those two. No wonder Blake, with his Ivy League stiffness and starched collar, sounded so upset: How could he ever compete with a tough-ass warrior like Dillon?

  Chris scanned the report in his hands. "What's the description on the male unsub?" Unsub was FBI-speak for unknown subject.

  "Doesn't fit Dillon at all," Blake told him as they walked toward his office door. "Our unsub is a really big guy, tall and bulky."

  "So that probably negates the idea that she's doing it for love." It just didn't add up in Chris's mind, that she'd followed Dillon and now wound up with some other bad guy. Yet he had no doubt that the female unsub was his twin.

  Blake opened the door with one last cautioning glance. "Harper, just keep yourself buttoned up for once. Hope doesn't need you losing your temper. I don't, either. I need you on this case, and getting to the bottom of whatever she's gotten into."

  Chris got the feeling that Blake wasn't just interested in the case; that like himself, he wanted to see Hope home safely once again, even if she never returned the man's affections like he hoped.

  Scott reached the top ridge with Anna, and immediately spotted Tierny outside the mitres, data collector in hand. Hope stood beside him, looking very pale and wobbly legged.

  "Stop that now!" Scott cried out, rushing toward Jake, but it was just like the two other times they'd come in close proximity to each other—a rushing force of power held him back, kept him suspended within the grasp of some invisible hand. Scott braced against the rocks outside the chamber.

  "Don't try to take her with you!" he shouted, cupping his mouth with his hand. "She's not part of this war. Don't do it!"

  Jake shook him off, fumbling with the data collector still. In panic, Scott reached for Anna. "See if you can go to him. Maybe these weird violent effects only happen to me."

  "Roger that, sir." Anna was already sprinting the small distance that separated their respective groups.

  Backing up a little, Scott felt even more confused once the wind died down. If he got closer to Tierny, the world unraveled; if he kept his distance things seemed to stay in balance. From the safer perimeter he watched as Anna began arguing with Tierny, gesturing vehemently. He felt a rush of affection for her; she'd always been loyal and devoted to him throughout their years of serving together.

  Hope glanced in his direction, trailing her fingers along the rocks, taking a cautious step toward him. "Yeah, baby," he murmured under his breath. "Yeah, just come on back to me. Right now, sweetheart, come on back."

  He didn't dare step toward her, so he was forced to wait, breath held, counting off the seconds and distance that stood between them. Jake and Anna continued in a hushed, intense discussion, each glancing at Hope periodically. What were they saying? What had Tierny's intent been with her, anyway?

  "I'm right here, Hope," he called to her as she got closer. "Stick close to the rocks and just follow my voice home."

  She paused, adjusting the pack she carried on her shoulder, and for a moment he thought she was going to pass out. Instinctively he stepped forward, and at the precise moment he did, three station craft came over the ridge, bearing down on all of them.

  "Oh, shit!" The violent wind coming off the craft's undersides nearly knocked him to the ground. Crouching, he struggled to reach Hope while unholstering his weapon and firing overhead, but not before pulse fire peppered the ground at his feet.

  In one insane moment his gaze and Jake's locked, and it was as if he heard the other man's words reverberate in his head:

  Protect her. At all costs, get her out of this place!

  He gave a nod, leaped to his feet, and rushed toward Hope.

  The wind overhead drove Hope to her knees, and then the immediate sound of gunfire kept her hunkered as low as possible against the rocks around them. Most days her eyesight issues were just frustrating, but at a moment like this, when she just couldn't see what the hell was going on, the limitations became terrifying. Her heart was in her throat, and all she could do was cling to her medical pack and pray that she and the others wouldn't get killed, especially not Scott.

  Covering her head with her hands, she ducked lower as sparks shot past her shoulder. Then suddenly a familiar hand clasped her arm, dragging her along the rocky ridge. "Come on, Harper, move it! Move it!"

  Scott! She wanted to fling her arms about his neck and sob her relief, but there was hardly time for that. "Who are these people?" she asked breathlessly, allowing him to lead her down the path. "More Antousians?"

  "Yep. Nice guys, huh?" He paused, took hold of her shoulders, and shoved her in front of himself. "It'll be my back they fire on," he said, words that eerily mirrored Jake's from earlier. Holding on to her, he pushed her along down the trail,
never letting go. "Now let's see if I can't get you out of here in one piece."

  Pulse fire pummeled the rocks about them, and shards of the stones shot out like shrapnel. Scott shoved her down and under his own body on the trail, draping himself over her. He kept her snug beneath him, raising his own pistol and firing at the droning, persistent station craft overhead. They were relentlessly shadowed by two of them no matter how far they went down the trail. The other one had to be back giving Jake and Anna the shakedown.

  "Up ahead, run for those trees. They can't follow us if we get into that cover," he whispered into her ear, his familiar scent and warm breath instantly soothing. What she wished, more than anything, was that the whole world weren't exploding around them, and that they were in that motel room from her dreams instead of here.

  "They can tail us, though. Like they did across the lake, right?"

  "I missed that part," Scott breathed against her ear. "But yeah, they could drop low and chase us: They've got superior firepower from above like that."

  "Then let's get to the trees," she agreed, and he lifted her onto her feet. Together they began half stumbling, half running toward the tree line ahead.

  "Keep going, keep going," Scott urged, holding her about the waist and shoving her forward on the trail. "Almost to the trees—see how it's darker up there? That's your goal."

  Her mouth was dry, her chest heaving. Even back at Warren she'd never been quite this terrified. "After that?"

  "We get to the bottom of the trail; then, my transport picks us up and gets us the hell out of here." She heard him calling into his comm, giving some kind of directions to the transport's captain.

  "What about Anna? Jake?"

  "I don't give a shit about Jake, but Anna I'll do everything I can to save."

  She shook her head, still moving forward. "Don't write Jake off like that. He needs your help, too."

  Scott made a growling, angry sound right as a large number of blurry figures filled the trail ahead of them, shouting in Refarian. She couldn't translate much; the words were flying too fast and too erratically. Behind her she heard the drumming sound of station craft as the machines came up behind them on the trail. Dimly, she wondered why Antousians would be speaking in Refarian, but she hardly had time to dwell on that fact.

  "I sure hope those people ahead of us are on our side," she muttered under her breath, feeling Scott's grip on her tighten. "Tell me they're good guys." Scott didn't answer, but tossed something past her shoulder, and it hit the snow with a muted sound. "And tell me that's not your weapon you just dropped."

  Stepping away from her, thrusting both hands in the air, he whispered, "I'll get you out of this. It's my fault you're here, and I'll make it all work out."

  The soldiers ahead rushed in on them. She closed her eyes, clutching her medical pack like the lifeline it was, realizing the worst had come true: They were cornered, with no chance of escape.

  A tall female soldier took hold of her roughly, wrestling the pack out of her hands. "Hey! I need that!" Hope protested, grasping at it, and they got into a short tug-of-war. "That's got all my medicine in it."

  "Tough luck, cutie," the woman said in heavily accented English. "It goes with us."

  They had Scott on the ground, it seemed, his hands behind him. "She's got to have that," he argued on her behalf. "She'll die without it."

  The female soldier chuckled darkly. "So? Maybe that will save us a little work."

  Someone else called out, "Hand it to me, Kryn; I'll have a look."

  Kryn stood beside Hope, obviously sizing her up. "You're not Refarian," the woman observed. "In fact, you're just a human, a blind and sick human, at that—so why are you and this man"—she kicked at Scott with her boot—"working together?"

  I'm FBI, cutie! she wanted to shout back into the woman's face, but that of all reasons would probably get her killed. Or tortured. Oh, shit, shit, I need an excuse, a good excuse.

  Maybe it was God who supplied it, but a very fast and clever one popped into Hope's mind. "Because I met this man in a bar," she answered evenly, remembering the dream about the motel. "One-night stand, you know how it goes." She smiled up into Kryn's face, playing the gal-pal card. "Anyway, yeah, I found out that he's an alien, and realized pretty quickly that his people could heal me. So I followed him, and that's how I wound up on the transport and out here. He was going to have me shot because I know too much."

  "That's why he argued that you needed your pack?" Kryn sounded amused that Hope's story was filled with so many holes. Hope assessed the alien, how she towered over her, her long length of dark brown hair. Probably attractive, maybe beautiful, not that any of that mattered at this particular moment.

  Hope flashed her best and most winning smile. "Well, correction. I think the lieutenant wanted to have me shot, but"—she leaned in close to Kryn, who instantly stiffened—"you know, the sex was just white-hot."

  Hope was ready to embroider the details, to really take things up a notch, but another soldier interrupted them. "The pack's clear, Kryn." The grunt thrust her med supplies back into Kryn's clutches. "It's only medicine and stuff, like she says."

  Kryn shoved the pack against Hope's chest. "Here, take it," the woman said emotionlessly.

  Hope wanted to weep from gratitude and relief; she wouldn't have made it another hour without a snack. She'd been losing control of her glucose levels all day, and her recent bursts of activity already had them diving once again.

  "Thank you." Hope bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment, but Kryn had already moved away from her.

  Yes, Hope was certainly grateful, but it was far more than the return of her med supplies for which she rejoiced. Deep within her sack, sewn into the lining, she held a secret—one that might just save both of their asses.

  The FBI was bringing them into Jackson by commercial jet, and Chris handed over his flying armed form, already filled out with his badge number and detailed information. As special agents, he and Blake were bypassing the usual security line, walking in where all the departing civilian passengers were exiting. Whenever they flew commercial there was always paperwork, the assessment of whether air marshals would be on board, the usual government red tape. Once they cleared security, both Chris and Blake stepped through the gate.

  Chris stuck his boarding pass into the back pocket of his pants, impatient and restless. The next few hours would take everything out of him. Hope was his best friend, his twin, his other half. Maybe it was unhealthy, but he could never truly stop worrying about her, all the more given her illness—and her propensity for trouble. He shook off his familiar fears, staring at the gateway straight ahead.

  Together he and Blake walked the long concourse, passing Domino's and Burger King, but the only thing on Chris's mind was getting up to Yellowstone. Blake stared wistfully at one of the coffee shops, and Chris was about to give him hell over his yuppy-man addiction to chai lattes when his cell jarred him.

  "Harper," he said, whipping the phone to his ear.

  It was the Denver office. "We've got a fix on your sister," his SSA told him. "She's not at Mirror Lake. Well, not anymore."

  Chris stopped in his tracks, Blake walking ahead without him. "Not anymore? What do you mean?"

  "She turned on her cell about twelve minutes ago, but her position has been shifting ever since. We triangulated her not far from Yellowstone, but she's in motion—and fast. It's got to be some kind of transport."

  Up ahead, Blake turned back, impatience written on his face until he got a look at Chris, and concern instantly replaced annoyance.

  "So what do you want us to do, sir?" Chris asked.

  "Get your asses on up to Mirror Lake."

  "But if she's gone—"

  "Chris, do I have to remind you that this isn't about your sister?" his boss asked briskly. "You have a job to do, so get going."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jake paced the interior of the mitres chamber, trying to arrive at a plan. So far, however, his big "p
lans" had led to disaster. Hope and Scott had been captured; he and Anna were locked inside the mitres, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help either of those two situations from within here. All this time he'd been pushing toward this very moment, to be able to return to the future; now he just wanted to get the hell out and do something—anything—to help Hope and his younger self survive.

  Meanwhile Anna eyed him warily, her dark eyes wide and furious as she followed him in circles about the rounded perimeter of the chamber. When the Antousian soldiers had appeared on the path, blocking Hope and Scott's retreat, he'd made a split-second decision: He allowed the portal to open, transporting both himself and Anna inside of the mitres to temporary safety. Anna had been questioning his sanity—and his strategy—ever since.

  "You just left them out there, to those vlksai freaks. Do you have any idea what's going to happen to them now? The first clue of what kind of danger you've put them in?" she ranted.

  Jake held a hand up, silencing her. "I need to think, Anna."

  "How do you even know my name?" She planted one hand on her hip. "You seem to know all of us—and very well."

  He shook his head, staring down at the data collector; if he'd been able to upload the codes twice now, surely he could make the damned thing work one more time.

  "Why did you transport us in here when they needed our support? Maybe you really are our enemy, though I'd been inclined to think otherwise."

  This caught his attention, and he glanced up from his handheld. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

  Anna rubbed a smudged finger over her nose. "Two things, actually. The first being that you love Hope Harper, and the second being that the universe won't tolerate you and Scott being in proximity—well, which raises a third. You're an Antousian shifter who's traveled back from the future. Your physical nature makes the possibility of a body switch quite real."