Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(23)

“Excellent,” he said. “That should give us plenty of time to finish up things here. After I meet the director, we’re going to travel north to visit Nicholas’s father. You’ll need to arrange for air transportation. We have a lot to do and a lot of ground to cover before it gets dark.”

“Certainly.”

While drones might have their limitations, the more intelligent people were, the better-functioning drones they made, and really, Martin was the best example of what a drone could be.

“Martin,” the female said, “I don’t know what the f**k is going on here, but so far, you haven’t done anything that you can’t back out of.”

She kept her voice low and controlled. Her hard, composed expression said that she was ready for the slightest opportunity they might give her, and she would turn it to her advantage.

Oh, he liked her. He wanted to take her first.

He strode forward, one of the monkey’s paws outstretched.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself,” he said, smiling. “Although, there really isn’t any need for an exchange of names. I’ve had so many over the years, and you’re never going to remember what I tell you, anyway.”

Chapter Eight

MARY HAD LEARNED to count her life in small segments, and at the moment she was vastly contented with life. She didn’t have to drive anymore, her belly was stretched full with good food, her body no longer ached from bruises or any deeper injuries and she had a pillow. And a blanket. Sufficient unto the day.

She intended to pay attention to the passing scenery as Michael located a route back to Highway 131. But she did have that pillow, and somehow it found its way between her ear and the car door. She rested her eyes for a minute.

Nasty things whispered in the dark. She surfaced back to consciousness fast.

“That’s the fourth time I’ve woken up bad in the last couple of days. It’s starting to piss me off,” she muttered, before she opened her eyes. She sat up and sent a bleary gaze around, reaching out to touch Michael’s arm for comfort. “What’s happened? How did they find us?”

“It’s not how they found us,” he said. “It’s what we’re driving into.”

The dichotomy between how things felt in the psychic realm and how things looked in the physical realm was disorienting. Visually everything appeared normal, even scenic. She hadn’t slept more than ten minutes. The architectural landscape had condensed and the early evening traffic had worsened. Michael’s arm felt warm and bulky with muscle.

She noticed his face had gone wary and still. His gaze held an alert expression she was beginning to recognize. The expression did peculiar things to his eyes, turning their gray color polished and impenetrable, like the hard, reflective surface of a drawn sword.

How many dead bodies had they left behind in the cabin’s clearing? Twenty? Thirty? They had been trained hardened soldiers, probably mercenaries. How many had looked into Michael’s executioner gaze as they died? A convulsive shudder ran through her.

He nudged her hand. “You wanted a vacation on the beach,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

She shook her head slowly as she watched the people in nearby cars. “At first I was shooting for a month, but after the last couple of days, I think I was lowballing it. I’m gonna go for a full summer.”

“During your summer off, you can sleep as much as you like,” he said. A slight smile softened the hard line of his mouth.

“There are no alarm clocks on that beach,” she told him. “Nobody hurries anywhere, because nothing urgent is happening. The most pressing thing I have to decide is whether I want a margarita or a mai tai. And all is right with the world.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter where it is. The Bahamas, Mexico, Hawaii—I’m ready to go. Right now.”

“I am too.”

In an abrupt movement that startled her, he signaled and pulled into the parking lot of a liquor store at one end of a strip mall. Then he put the Jeep into park. With the engine idling, he crossed his arms over the top of the steering wheel and leaned forward to rest his chin on them. His light eyes moved over the scene.

She waited, her gaze moving from Michael to the nearby shops and the traffic that sped past them. Finally, she asked, “What now, Mister Enigmatic?”

“You keep calling me that,” he murmured. Thoughts shifted behind those steely eyes.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” she told him. She grinned. “Not anymore. I’m getting used to you turning all silent and mysterious. I think more caffeine might be a good idea. Do you mind if I buy more Coke while you use your spidey sense or inner periscope, or whatever it is that you’ve got?”

She gestured to the vending machines located outside the liquor store.

He swept the parking lot and the immediate area again with that sharp, assessing gaze. “Okay.”

“Want one?”

“Sure.”

She dug in her purse for change, climbed out of the Jeep and walked the short distance to the vending machines. Gray clouds mottled the sky. The temperature had turned sharp and chilly, while a brisk breeze blew off the nearby Lake and tugged at loose tendrils of her hair. She had been uncomfortable earlier in the heat of the day, but now she was grateful she was wearing the flannel shirt.

Her nerves jangled from the turmoil she sensed in the psychic realm. She felt exposed standing outside, even though she knew Michael was not more than thirty feet away and aware of her every move. Getting the Coke had been as much an act of bravado as practicality, but the small sanctuary of the Jeep suddenly seemed too far away. She grabbed the two cans and jogged back.