Sun Storm Page 19

  “Let’s see if we can find that tracker.” Tim headed toward his truck.

  “Is it on the Ford?” David asked.

  “No, Michael thinks they tagged you at the airport.” Tim produced a small black box from the passenger seat of his truck. “I have a scanner.”

  David shrugged. “That would make sense. We were in close quarters,”

  Tim smiled at Marie. “I’m going to have to scan you.”

  She gulped. “Me?”

  David shoved Tim, forcing him to step back. “No, he’s not. If anyone’s going to search you, it’ll be me.”

  That was better, but only marginally. “You mean a search like at the airport where they look through your pockets and bag and stuff.”

  “Honey, it’ll be thorough.” David waggled his eyebrows.

  “What?” She stared at him. On one hand, the thought of him frisking her was somewhat arousing, but they were in the middle of a snow-covered road.

  David grinned. “I’m just kidding. Trackers are tiny, almost invisible, so I’ll use the scanner. Tim.” He held his arms, wide. “Do me first, and then I’ll scan Marie.”

  Tim flicked a button on the top of the black box. A row of red lights immediately lit up. “You’ve definitely picked up a bug. Marie, honey, go stand by my truck so I can get a clear reading.”

  David stood still, his arms wide, as Tim ran the device down his body. His gaze locked with hers. She couldn’t look away. She licked her lips, wanting to kiss him again. Good lord, they were in the middle of a deserted icy road, in the company of his friend, they were being tracked, and all she could think about was kissing. It was official—she’d lost her mind.

  That idea made her smile.

  “If you keep smiling like that I might be forced to kiss you,” David said as he strolled toward her, scanner in hand.

  “Would that be so bad?” she whispered, tilting her face up.

  His eyes widened, and he groaned. “As much as I’d like to drag you into the truck and enjoy a session of mutual pleasure, we need to get rid of the chip and get away from here.”

  She inhaled, stared straight ahead, and held her arms wide. “Go ahead.”

  He passed the black box over her arms and down her body. “Take off your coat and sweatshirt and place them on the truck.”

  Without a word, she shucked off the garments, leaving her wearing nothing but her pink long johns. A breeze blew across the road, shifting icy pellets from a nearby snow bank. She shivered, but resisted the urge to pull her arms across her body. The cold made her nipples hard, erect and sensitive, or maybe that was a reaction to his closeness. He didn’t touch her, just ran the little black box across her breasts and down her ribcage.

  “D-did you find the tracker?” Marie asked. Without waiting for an answer, she jerked her sweatshirt over her head and shrugged on her coat.

  “No, where’s your backpack?”

  Tim joined them as she retrieved her bag from their truck and threw it on the hood. The lights on the scanner intensified as all the little strobes blinked.

  “We have it,” David announced.

  “Just leave the bag.” Tim said as he headed to his truck.

  “No.” Marie’s spine stiffened.

  Tim turned. “No?”

  “No. I’ll move my stuff into something else.”

  “Are you kidding?” He turned to David. “Is she kidding?”

  She clutched the bag to her chest. “We are being hunted because of this solar panel. It is our only bargaining chip and could provide us with a way to prove your innocence. I’m not leaving it behind.”

  David gave a small nod and then addressed Tim. “She’s right. It’s important. Do you have a plastic bag or something?”

  “I have a cardboard box.”

  David grabbed her bag and turned it upside-down emptying the contents into a box with the words Layer Mash Organic Feed printed along the side. Then he threw her backpack into the trees at the side of the road. “We need to go.” He placed the box onto the floor of Tim’s truck.

  Marie clambered into the back and settled on the bench seat.

  David strode to the blue Ford, climbed in, and started the ignition.

  “Where’s he going?” She was not leaving him behind.

  “Don’t worry. He’s just pulling it off the road. It won’t raise any alarms if it’s parked because a passing policeman might think a hunter parked it there while he trekked into the woods.

  “Oh.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? It was obvious they couldn’t leave a truck sitting in the middle of the road. She might not be worldly when it came to street smarts, but since meeting David, her brain had shrunk to the size of a peanut.

  David climbed into the passenger seat. “Where to?”

  “My place. You can have a meal and a shower. Then you can borrow a truck and head up to a cabin on the mountain.”

  “Whose cabin?”

  “One of my father’s friends. He died a few months ago. It’s isolated, and there’s no running water or electricity so you’ll be roughing it, but no one will notice you using it in the winter. It’ll buy us some time while we get you fake ID so you can head north into Canada.”

  Marie sat in the back without commenting. She was relieved they were no longer being tracked. They would finally be safe, but the idea of David leaving behind everything he’d worked for, his land, his bees, and all his dreams, gnawed at her. He wanted to return to the life he’d planned, and it wasn’t fair he should lose everything because of her. Somehow she would find a way to make it right.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “The FBI has just left.” Marshall Portman popped an antacid into his mouth, resisting the urge to verbally assault Chief Notley. He’d asked for one favor—just one—let PDE deal with the kidnapping of Marie Wilson. He’d told the useless idiot the same crap he’d told the FBI, that he felt responsible for Quinn’s actions.

  “I told them this is a police matter,” Notley whined.

  “Can’t you complain to their superiors?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If I complain, they will send someone to investigate. Let Callaghan look into this connection with the Sons of Freedom. He’ll get nothing. There is no connection, is there?”

  “Of course, there isn’t. Just keep Callaghan away from my office. You owe me. I saved you from a life of prostitution, or do you want everyone to know you were a rent boy?” This was the first time he’d resorted to blackmail and had to admit there was a certain amount of satisfaction in having the power to manipulate others to do your bidding.

  “I can’t believe you—”

  “I’m responsible for Quinn being on the street. Look at it as a family matter. A member of my family is acting up, and I have to bring them into line.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do about the FBI.”

  Portman hung up the phone and walked to the window, staring out over the snow -covered city square. He loved the square. It was the accumulation of everything he had worked for. Maybe he’d made a mistake in threatening Notley. The man wasn’t Mensa material, but up until now he’d been a competent chief, and one never knew when an honest man would grow a backbone. He could easily decide being shady was harder to live with than the shame of everyone knowing he’d been a whore. Still, under the law, private security had the right to use necessary force to protect the lives of others. It wasn’t their fault poor Dr. Wilson had gotten caught in the crossfire.

  His cell phone buzzed. Harper’s number flashed up on the screen. Hopefully the deed was done and this whole mess would be over. “Tell me they’re dead.”

  There was silence for a moment. “No.”

  “You fucking useless asshole,” Marshall screamed down the phone. “I thought you were some sort of decorated sniper.”

  “Yes sir, International Sniper of the Year three years in a row.”

  “Then get the job done, or do I have to report your stupidity to our superiors?”

  “
No. I’ll get it done,” Harper promised.

  “What about your partner, Mac?”

  “Dead.”

  “Dead? Are you telling me Quinn killed him? Fuck. He put the Paxton brothers in the hospital and killed Mac Klein. How did you escape?”

  Harper hesitated. Maybe he needed time to organize his thoughts. “Mac’s job was to smoke them out. My job was to shoot them. Quinn used Mac as a shield.”

  “You shot your own man, and Wilson and Quinn still escaped.” What a fucking idiot.

  “It wasn’t—”

  “I want you to track them down and kill them. There’s no room for failure.”

  There was a pause, then Harper said, “They’ve gone dark.”

  “Dark?”

  “Yes, I’m at the location of the last transmission. The truck’s abandoned, and there’s no sign of them. They must’ve carjacked another vehicle.”

  “I thought you said Paxton attached a GPS to her bag.”

  “I found the backpack in the ditch.”

  “And the prototype?”

  “Gone.”

  Marshall stared at the phone. Fuck. He picked up one of the humanitarian awards that sat on his desk and hurled it across the room. “Now listen to me. If you fail, we’re both dead. Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes. It’s that Special Forces asshole, Quinn. He thinks he’s hot shit, but he forgot about the tire tracks in the snow. I can follow them, and I’ll find him.”

  Marshall pressed the disconnect button on his phone and threw it on the table. He slumped into his soft leather chair, closed his eyes, and massaged his temples.

  Things were spiraling into an uncontrollable mess. There was no way Harper could follow tire tracks to Quinn’s location. The man was an idiot with an ego the size of Montana.

  Marshall had made his fortune because he understood timing, and their time was running out. From his recent conversation with the FBI, he knew they suspected his involvement. They were not going to take things on face value. When the authorities moved in, there would be arrests. The Syndicate would not take the chance their existence might come to light. They’d probably suicide him. He shuddered as he pictured his body hanging from his bunk in his jail cell.

  A cold sweat leeched down his spine. He needed an exit strategy, a way to get away without his wife or Harper suspecting. All he had to do was keep both of them occupied while he escaped.

  He opened his eyes, inhaled one last deep, calming breath, and then unlocked the safe that was attached to the underside of his desk. He flicked through the fake passport and credit cards and stuffed them into his inside breast pocket. He might need to move at a moment’s notice, and he didn’t want to have to come back to his office.

  The lump that had burned a hole in the pit of his stomach lightened. He would use this God-awful situation to his advantage. He’d have to leave behind everything he had worked for, but that was a price he would happily pay for his freedom.

  He pressed the button on the intercom. “Send in Spider.”

  The hacker shuffled into the office.

  “Have you managed to block all personal videos of our couple? I don’t want the media running with any story except what we’ve told them.”

  “No problem. The biggest story on the news is the storm. The rest of the time the news channels are just repeating our storyline.” The hacker’s eyes sparkled with delight.

  “Harper has lost his prey—”

  “Yes, the signal’s gone dead.”

  “Can you access a satellite and help him?”

  “I can try. Hacking in is not a problem. But if there are no satellites over the area with the ability to take high resolution pictures, it might take hours to move one into position.”

  “Do what you have to do.” Marshall was about to dismiss him when Lucy barged in. The fact that his wife hadn’t bothered to knock didn’t surprise him. Her lack of respect had become more pronounced of late.

  “I hear there’s a problem.”

  He discharged Spider with a wave before he acknowledged her. “Yes, your man Harper has made a mess of things.”

  She put her hands on her slim hips. He remembered the days when they were first together. She would visit him for lunch, hitch up her skirt and—

  “What kind of mess?”

  “Dr. Wilson escaped the first attempt. She’s running.”

  “I invited you to join our circle because I thought you shared our resolve and single-minded determination.”

  “I’ve sent Harper after them, but this thing could go sideways fast.” He stared into her shrewd, green eyes. She was attractive rather than pretty. She worked out everyday to maintain her size-four figure. Her hair was dyed with the perfect blend of color so that it wasn’t a brassy blond. She always wore business suits with stylish low-heeled shoes when at work, but under her clothes she modeled the sluttiest collection of underwear he had ever seen.

  It had been a long time since she’d turned him on. Maybe because he knew what a heartless bitch she was. Perhaps he could get her selfishness to work in his favor. “The FBI were here asking questions.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing, but they have their suspicions.”

  “What will you do if they persist?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you and the Syndicate. I’ll take the fall if necessary.” He was amazed he had managed to tell the lie with a straight face. “Perhaps it might be a good idea for you to distance yourself. I hear Mauritius is lovely.”

  “Mauritius?”

  “They have no extradition treaty with us, and its nicer than Kuwait.”

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lip as she frowned.

  He didn’t want to overplay his hand. “You’re right. Maybe you should stay. The Syndicate will want to talk to you before me. After all, you’ve been a member for much longer than I have.”

  “No, I’ll go.” She graced him with a wide smile. She hadn’t smiled at him like that since their wedding.

  “Hopefully, I can sort this mess out and join you soon.” That was the biggest whopper he’d told all day. “Do you have an offshore account?”

  “Yes, in the Cayman Islands.”

  “Text me the number. I’ll put ten million in an account for you.”

  “That’s very generous.” She tapped on her phone.

  “You’re my wife. I’m supposed to look after you.” His cell pinged, and he glanced at her incoming text.

  “Oh, Marshall, I do love you.” She pounced, straddling him, and then placed his hand on her stocking top.

  “I love you, too,” he lied.

  She kissed him as she unzipped his fly. His arousal surprised him. The evil soul-sucking bitch was seducing him, and he loved it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Marie closed her eyes. The sensation of hot water cascading over her skin felt like a long overdue indulgence. David had taken his shower first while she sat and enjoyed the view. Tim’s ranch, situated in the foothills of the Rockies, was magnificent, if a little run down. The dated furnishings, peeling wallpaper and empty corrals gave the impression he had fallen on hard times. She just hoped their presence wouldn’t make things worse.

  She tipped her head upside-down under the spray of water, ridding her hair of excess suds. Not used to the shorter length, she’d used way too much shampoo, which gave her an excuse to stay in the shower a little longer.

  A firm knock at the door dragged her back to reality.

  “Do you want me to wash your clothes for you?” David stepped into the steam-filled bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  She peeked around the curtain. He wore his cargo pants and a clean T-shirt. Damn. He looked fine.

  She climbed out of the shower and then grabbed a towel off the rack, “Will they be dry?”

  He grinned, making him appear even sexier, which she hadn’t thought possible. “Sure, he has a drier. The load won’t be big, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

  “T
he thought of having clean clothes is so enticing I’ve decided to forgive you for entering uninvited, and I refuse to be embarrassed by the fact that I’m wearing nothing but a towel. You’re the one who should be embarrassed.”

  He laughed, which made her stomach do a little flip. She hadn’t thought he was beautiful when they’d first met, but now she considered him breathtaking.

  He stepped closer. “You’ve got that look again.”

  “Look?” Her voice squeaked.

  “If you don’t want this, all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll back off.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. He was so close she could feel the heat that radiated off his body. “This?”

  He bent his head. “Yeah, this.” He placed his hands under her butt, and picked her up. His movements so swift she gasped and grabbed his shoulders. Then he sat her on the bathroom counter.

  His mouth crashed down on hers, hard and tender. Their tongues dueled. He tasted of toothpaste and honey. She became vaguely aware her towel had slipped to the floor. One of his hands circled the base of her spine, causing shivers to surge through her body.

  His mouth moved to her neck, and he placed small bites below her ear. Her hands trailed down his spine and then traveled up until they cupped his face. She arched back and tilted her head to give him greater access. Positioning himself between her legs, he kissed the pulse at the base of her throat and then laid small kisses in a path toward her breasts. Every molecule in her body throbbed with need. She wanted more, wanted to feel the weight of him pressed against her, to touch his hard chest and feel his warm, firm flesh.

  He continued his sensual onslaught. She gripped his head, holding him closer, until he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She arched again as another flash of desire wracked her body, sending shockwaves through her nervous system and down into her core. The hard ridge of his penis pressed against the apex of her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked against him. He was still dressed, and the bulge at the groin of his cargo pants rubbed her sensitive folds. His mouth on her breasts and the intense pressure on her clitoris sent a violent surge of desire threading through her. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him, all of him. She tugged at his clothing. He let go of her breast long enough to shuck his T-shirt. Then his mouth clamped onto her breast again and she was lost.