Final Hours (8 page)

“Oh, thank heaven.”

Kane reached past her and scooped the dog up. A blue scarf
was still partly wrapped around it. The scarf Kane had on when he left the lab.

“Hey,” he said, cradling the dog in one arm. “How are you
doing, Jane Eyre? One adventure not enough for you?” A stronger yip answered
him. “Yes, we’re going to find your mistress. Are you up for a trip?”

The dog reached up and licked his chin. Elizabeth watched
the exchange between man and dog, seeing a side of Kane she didn’t think
existed. Obviously not as injured as they feared, the little dog stood with its
front paws on his chest, and yipped at him impatiently.

“I believe she’s ready to do this.”

“Okay. Wait,” she said, when he started to set the dog on
the ground. “We need some kind of leash, or it will get away from us.”

“She.” Kane corrected her absently, like he did it all the
time. “We can use my scarf.”

Elizabeth helped him unravel it from the dog, rolling up one
end to tie around the collar.

“How did it—she—end up with your scarf?”

“After taking a dip in the canal.”

Her fingers froze on the scarf. “You… pulled a dog out of
the canal.”

“You say that as if I wouldn’t even think of doing such a
thing. I could hardly let her drown.” As if the dog knew what he was saying,
it—she, Elizabeth corrected herself again—licked his face, wagging the fluffy
tail. “Can you check for injuries?”

“Sure.” After tying the scarf around the collar, she ran her
hands over the still shivering body, and found a long scrape, behind one ear. “There’s
a scrape. It isn’t bleeding anymore.” But against that pristine fur, even a
tiny amount of blood looked fatal.

“All right. We’ll keep checking it.” He took the makeshift
leash from Elizabeth and set Jane Eyre on the ground, crouched down beside the
trembling dog.

“We need to go straight ahead once we get to the sidewalk,”
she said. “Then across the high street. If it’s the field I’m thinking of, it’s
on the other side.”

Kane nodded, and scratched the fluffy head before he stood. “Let’s
go find your mistress, shall we?”

With an answering bark, the dog took off, headed for the
sidewalk. Kane followed her, looking absurd and far too appealing. Now that her
mind wasn’t occupied with a crisis, it did a laser focus on her and Kane, kissing.
No—in her mind, at least, she would call a horse a horse. She jumped him, like
a desperate, horny woman.

Heat spread over her face again at just the memory of it.
What did that nun call her in the orphanage? A harlot.
“With all that hair,”
she said, turning her bulbous nose up, like Elizabeth smelled bad, “you will
tempt even the most devout man.”
Then they held her down and cut it all
off. Elizabeth remembered crying herself to sleep for months after it happened.
That was when she learned not to make a sound when she cried.

No sound meant you weren’t teased, or bullied. Or worse.

Part of her wanted to own that passion, and how it made her
feel so free, yet so connected to him. But the past she still fought to escape
clutched at her, left her mortified. She just wouldn’t let it happen again.
Problem solved.

All she had to do was not touch him.

She pushed aside the relative impossibility of that
happening, and caught up with him, careful to stay out of reach. “Do you know
why Guy picked this time period?”

He glanced down at her. “All the researchers are leaning
toward Churchill.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “You don’t agree.”

Kane flashed her that heart stopping smile, damn him. “That
obvious, is it?”

“I don’t think the detour to Dover was a glitch. We are just
days from,” she glanced around, to make sure no one was nearby to overhear.
“The start of the evacuation from Dunkirk.” Kane glanced at her, surprised.
“History buff, remember? Possible future author of art history books?”

His laugh warmed her, sent the same hot thrill that shot
through her when his lips—

Stop it.

“Beth? You were saying?”

“Right.” She stared straight ahead, blushing. Again. In her
peripheral vision she saw Kane watch her, amusement on his face. She knew it
was about to change. “If something happened to Admiral Ramsay, that would throw
the evacuation into chaos—maybe even prevent it from happening. There has been
speculation that if Hitler had stopped the BEF from escaping Dunkirk, he could
have won the war.”

Kane stopped and grabbed her arm. “Are you certain?”

“I’ve read some books on it.” It wasn’t easy, but she kept
her voice level. “There is still no good reason for Hitler to approve the halt
of his troops when they were literally on the edge of victory. The Brits and French
were trapped and running, the Belgians had surrendered. It was ideal. But he approved
Rundstedt’s order to hold, which gave Ramsay the breathing room he needed,
breathing room he didn’t expect.”

Now Kane stared at her. “You do have an encyclopedia of knowledge
in that quick mind of yours. How many did he evacuate?”

“The number I found the most was 338,000.”

“Thousand?”
Kane let out a low whistle. “He must have
been an impressive man.”

“You may find out personally.” When he looked at her, a
question in his eyes, she clarified. “If that’s the reason Guy is here, you
have to stop it. You have to protect Ramsay.” She tried to keep her voice calm,
but her heart was pounding so hard at just the thought of Ramsay being
threatened, she had trouble breathing. “You have to believe me, Kane. Without
him, there won’t be an evacuation.”

“Hey.” He reached out, brushed her cheek. “I am here to stop
whatever Guy thinks he is going to do. I will see Helaine safe, and then deal
with Guy. She’s an innocent in all this, and I’ll not see her hurt because she
met me.”

His words had an angry edge, like it had happened before.
Elizabeth agreed, even though she itched to sprint straight up the steep hill
to Dover Castle and stand between Admiral Ramsay and any possible threat.

Jane Eyre let out an excited yip and took off.

They followed the little dog across the high street, and
into a much less populated street. It sniffed madly at the dirt path leading
off to the left, out to a field, and strained against the scarf leash. Elizabeth
was right. From here, she saw the single building, weathered and abandoned.

“I believe she has found her mistress’ scent.” Kane moved
faster, giving the dog slack, and room to run. He also pulled out his sleek
silver pistol, kept it tight against his side.

Elizabeth stayed behind him without being told; standing
between Guy and Kane once before ended with Kane injured and her life turned
upside down.

Kane forced the little dog to slow. It headed straight for
the building. Kane picked up the dog, soothed it with his quiet voice, then
handed it to her.

“Hold tight to her,” he whispered. “I want you to stay here.
If you hear anything that sounds like fighting, run as fast as you can back to
the high street and ask for help. They will help you, Beth,” he said. Her doubt
must have shown. “This is not your time; people take care of each other here.”
He unbuckled the transport, strapped it to her wrist. “In case something
happens to me—”

“It’s not—”

He pressed his finger to her lips. “I want you to take it
and find a way to go back. Mac will make sure you get home.”

“Okay.” She tightened her grip on the dog. It wanted to go
with Kane. “Please be careful.”

He cupped her chin, kissed her before she could evade it,
his lips warm, soft, incredible. As short as it was, it left her breathless.
“Thank you, love.”

She clutched the warm, wriggling body, watched him stalk
toward the building, pistol aimed and ready. Her heart jumped when he
disappeared around the side.

“He’ll be okay,” she whispered, tucking the little dog under
her chin. Its presence helped calm her. “I have to believe he’ll be—”

A gunshot shattered the afternoon silence.

Kane froze, the
gunshot echoing around him.

It was from an archaic weapon, not Guy’s laser pistol. He
pressed his back to the wall, inched along it until he found an open doorway,
the door long gone, hinges rusty from exposure. Guy’s voice carried out to him.

“Try that again, and I will shoot you instead of the wall.”

He strained to hear Helaine’s voice, and relaxed when it
followed right after.

“Go ahead, you sorry excuse for a human being. You will not
leave Dover alive if you harm anyone here. Did you miss the soldiers we passed?
All I have to do is scream and you will lose that smug demeanor, in a hurry.”
She sounded spitting mad, but under it Kane heard the slight tremble.

“Scream all you like. No one will bother us out here. You
should have done the screaming when you had a better opportunity.”

Their voices gave Kane a good idea of their location. He
took a chance, eased his head past the doorjamb and risked a quick look inside.

Helaine was tied to the chair Guy mentioned—the only piece
of furniture in the abandoned building. He stood in front of her, his back to
Kane, rubbing his shin. Kane’s gaze moved down to her feet; Guy had neglected
to tie her legs. She must have kicked him when he moved close enough.

Another feisty woman. Kane seemed to be collecting them.
First Elizabeth, now this fierce brunette. A dramatic change from the usual
female who clung to him.

While Guy was distracted, Kane had the perfect chance to
sneak inside and jump him—

Kane swung around when he heard a noise behind him, pistol
set to charge.

Elizabeth held up her hand, the dog tucked under her other
arm. What the bloody hell was she thinking?

He backed down before his temper took hold. The gunshot. It
would have scared her, knowing the only person who could send her home may have
been the victim of it. He held one finger up to his lips. She nodded and glided
silently to the wall, out of the line of fire. Jane Eyre trembled in her grip,
but stayed quiet, her nose sniffing the air, obviously scenting her mistress.

Certain his chance for surprise had passed, he inched back
to the edge of the doorway. Guy muttered to himself as he paced. He was
frustrated, and Kane knew he was less attentive in that state.

He took a quick glance inside just as Helaine looked up. Her
eyes widened, then she lowered her head.

“I don’t feel well. I think I may—oh—” She doubled over, as
much as she could, being strapped to a chair.

Guy stalked over to her and crouched down to eye level,
careful this time to stay out of kicking range. “What is it now?”

“Cramps,” she whispered.

Kane shuddered. She brought out the female problems card,
guaranteed to make any man flinch and want to leave the room. As quickly as
possible. Guy stood so fast he nearly fell backward, and Kane took advantage of
the distraction.

He flipped the pistol and ran forward, ready to crack Guy on
the back of the head. At the last moment, Guy turned around. Kane crashed into
him and they toppled to the ground. The archaic pistol flew out of Guy’s hand.

“Son of a bitch—” Guy snapped his fist up, and got in a
lucky punch, hitting Kane in the one sensitive spot on his face—squarely on his
scarred right cheek.

With a pained roar, Kane pounded his elbow into Guy’s stomach
and rolled out of range, his face throbbing. Guy got one last whack in. His
fist bounced off Kane’s injured shoulder.

Pain scorched him. He wanted to curl around it and not move
until the agony let him go. Instead he pushed off the ground, caught Guy’s
ankle and yanked. The angry shout was incredibly satisfying.

Kane groaned, and carefully lowered himself to the ground. A
familiar figure darted past him, headed straight for Guy’s hunched figure.

“Beth, no—”

She flashed him a smile and set down Jane Eyre.

That slip of a dog growled low in her throat, the rumble more
suited to a German Shepherd. She let out one sharp bark and leapt at Guy’s
head.

“Down, Jane Eyre!” Helaine’s voice kept the dog from further
attack, but the damage was done. Her small but sharp claws scraped across Guy’s
cheek when she landed on him. She let out a last growl and jumped to the
ground, then trotted over to Helaine, licking every inch of skin she could
reach.

Elizabeth crouched beside Kane and picked up the pistol,
aiming it at Guy. “Move wrong, and I swear to God I’ll shoot you. I don’t quite
know how to aim this thing, so I may hit something—important.” He froze, his
fingers inches from his own weapon. “Now stand up, back against the wall, all
parts in view and unmoving.”

He obeyed, one hand pressed to his gut. Elizabeth followed
him with the pistol. Guy was too far away to notice, but Kane saw her fingers
shake against the grip.

“That’s good. Now spread your arms out, palms facing the
wall.” Guy gave her a glare that should have dropped her, but he did it.

Impressed, Kane moved to her, eased the pistol out of her grip
before she realized what she’d done—then he stalked across the room and shoved the
pistol under Guy’s chin.

“Why are you here?”

“Kill me, old friend, and you’ll never be finding out, will
you?”

“I’m going to stop you.”

“You could do so right now. Pull the trigger.”

Elizabeth’s gasp made him glance over his shoulder. She
stood beside Helaine, the length of rope in her hand.
How did she unknot it
so quickly?
The answer flashed in her other hand—a small, familiar knife.
Mac’s favorite pocket knife.

“Get her out of here, Beth.” He waited long enough to see
Elizabeth lead Helaine out the door, whispering to her. He turned back to Guy,
forced a calm he did not feel, and finally noticed what Guy wore. An RAF uniform,
with the rank of a flight lieutenant. “What happened to you?”

 Pain flashed in his friend’s eyes. “I didn’t want you to
know. I wanted to deal with it alone, keep you out of it—”

“Stop talking in riddles. Tell me why.”

“I’ve been shown the future—a future we created, Kane, with
that unholy technology.”

“That’s impossible.” Something close to panic shot through
him. “We can only go to the past through the portal.”

“That is what we were
told
. So much more information was
kept from us. Dangerous information. I can’t let him win—I won’t let him win—”

“Who, Guy?” Kane lowered the pistol. “Please, let me help
you.”

“Too late for me, old friend.” He gripped Kane’s good
shoulder. “I’ve done something, to the past—something that may not be fixable.
Promise me you will try.”

“What are you talking about?” Dread fisted his gut. “What
have you done?”

“Whatever happens to me, whatever you learn about me,
promise me you’ll find the truth, Kane.” This was the Guy he remembered, the
friend he thought he lost. “I was supposed to take your Elizabeth, deliver her
to—” He cut himself off. “Just stop me, Kane. Whatever you have to do, stop
me.”

“Tell me what you’ve done—”

 A high-pitched alarm cut him off, coming from Guy’s
transport. He shut it off and looked back at Kane. “I realized too late it was
exactly what he wanted me to do. What he expected me to do. This is where we
say goodbye.”

“Guy—”

“Promise me you will stop it—stop me.” He glanced over at
his transport. “You have to go. I set a timer on yours, one that I can’t
reverse. I am sorry; I made a bad move, and the knight will have to sacrifice
himself. Don’t give me any quarter, do you understand? When you go back to find
me, I will still be under his thumb.”

“What—”

Kane spun at the second beep—this one a loud warning coming
from the transport on Elizabeth’s wrist. She stood next to the door, staring
down at her wrist, her face pale. “Oh, God—”

“Five.” Guy started counting down. “Four, three—”

Kane bolted across the room. With a shout he lunged for Elizabeth,
his fingers closing over her wrist just as the portal opened behind her. Gold
light snapped out, dragged them both in—

And threw them out on a dark, rubble strewn street.

They both stumbled, headed for the wall less than a foot
away. Kane caught Elizabeth around the waist, taking the brunt of impact on his
right shoulder.

“Bloody hell—”

“Kane—”

“All right.”

“Of course you are. Did Guy—”

“Yes.” He clenched his jaw, eased his shoulder off the wall.
Guy’s confession, and his cryptic plea, had Kane doubting everything he knew
about TimeSearch.

He lifted his left wrist, the light from the small screen
offering a little illumination. It highlighted Elizabeth’s dark blue eyes as
she looked up at him.

“Where did he send us…” Her voice faded as she stared over
his shoulder. “Oh, no—oh, God no—”

“Beth.” She had gone white. Her fingers gripped the lapel of
his greatcoat. “Talk to me, Beth.”

“Barrage balloons,” she whispered. Kane glanced up and saw
them, black, hulking shadows against a dark sky. “We’re in London.”

A quick check of his transport confirmed it. “How did you
know?”

“The balloons. I recognize them from the hundreds of photos
I’ve collected.” She swallowed. “We’re in London, probably late 1940.”

“10 May, 1941.”

“Oh, God.” Her fingers shook against his chest. “Guy dropped
us in the middle of the Blitz.”