No Safe Haven (19 page)

ZOYA

April 11

North Pole, Alaska

5:16 a.m.

An ear-splitting scream pierced the air.

I ran in that direction. Large snowflakes fell, blocking my view. A loud roar thundered around me and the ground began to shake.

A gunshot echoed on the ice walls that instantly shot out of the ground and surrounded me.

Andie!

Jumping up, I started running again. A chopper flew overhead, circling in the sky, looking for prey.

Dark clouds emerged from the middle of the night sky, swirling in an unusual way. Fire spilled forth like a huge tornado just waiting for its chance at destruction.

I looked over and saw Andie struggling in the arms of a man in black. They both stood still. The man shot up into the sky as if he had supernatural powers and then disappeared.

Andie fell to the ground. I raced toward her.

Dasha barked and the fiery tornado came closer. We ran for our lives.

A wicked laugh echoed from the dark cloud and a face with red eyes and a snickering smile appeared. "You'll never make it alive."

Something bumped into us, shoving us toward the ground.

The strange being grabbed Andie, and I jumped forward to reach her. My face met something hard and I lay there unable to move from the force of the blow.

Fire raced across the ground, heading right in her direction.

Someone jumped and pushed her out of the way just before it hit.

The ground shook and the evil laugh rang in my ears again. A giant hand reached toward me.

"AHHHH!"

I jerked up in my bed, heart hammering in my chest and face burning. The door to my room flew open as Mom rushed in.

"Zoya, what's wrong?"

Sweat trickled down my forehead. I was unable to speak.

The dream replayed through my mind.

"Zoya, Zoya!" Mom shook my shoulder and put a hand to my forehead.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as realization set in.

"Mom, something's happening to Andie! She's in trouble, we have to do something!" My face dripped with sweat and tears.

Mom's worried expression met my eyes. My whole body trembled. The threatening words rang through my mind.

You'll never make it alive.

"Honey, shhh. It's okay. Just tell me what happened."

I closed my eyes, not wanting to retell the awful dream.

Okay . . . okay, you can do this, Zoya.

As I retold the haunting scenes they became even more vivid. Once finished, another dream which I had promised to forget crept back into my already agitated mind.

A hospital . . . pain. An endless wait.

Death of someone dear.

Before I knew what happened, Mom had her strong arms wrapped around me. "It's okay."

"But what if—"

"Shh. I know. I know. And I believe you."

"They should've been home six days ago."

"Yes, but we've done all we can." Mom pulled back. "We'll keep trying, but let's get some sleep and we'll figure this thing out tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded.

She kissed the top of my head. "Everything will work out."

"Can we pray?"

Mom nodded.

We bowed our heads and asked God to help us find our friends and to keep them safe.

"Get some sleep." Mom pushed me down to the bed. "It'll be okay, you'll see."

As she exited the room, she flicked off the lights and the room darkened. The door creaked closed and I heard the
thump thump thump
of her steps as she walked away. The hall light stayed on.

"You'll never make it alive . . ."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

COLE

April 11

Sultana, Denali National Park

5:18 a.m.

He studied her profile. Jet black hair, smooth skin, perfect lips. Her native Athabaskan heritage evident, and he'd never seen anyone more beautiful. Not even Amanda. Thoughts of his wife flooded him. Once again, he'd betrayed her memory. What kind of fool was he?

"Cole?"

"Uh huh?"

"What are you staring at?"

He blinked several times. Good night, she caught him. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was telling you about Andie's friend Zoya."

"Uh huh."

"Cole!"

"What? I'm listening. The kid had a dream. "

Jenna reached a hand toward him. "I can see I've overwhelmed you, and frankly, I'm too tired to go on."

He looked into her eyes. She must be in an incredible amount of pain. "I'm sorry, Jenna. I'll get something for the pain." He needed the distraction.

She gripped his hand with a strength he wasn't expecting. And she wouldn't let go. "Cole, tell me."

"Tell you what?" Did she know how he felt? How could she read him so well?

"How bad is my leg?"

Relief washed over him at her question, but quickly faded as the answer sank in. He raked his other hand through his hair as she squeezed the hand she held. She deserved the truth. But it hurt to think of the complications. "It's infected. Not gangrenous, but we need to be careful."

She closed her eyes and nodded.

"I cleaned it, applied more antibiotic cream, and rebandaged it, but . . ."

Her gaze locked with his. "But what?"

"It can't heal at this elevation. I've got to get you off this mountain. And soon." He reached into the bag and pulled out the Tylenol. "Here. Take this, and then get some sleep. You need rest."

"Okay." She nodded again, as if accepting an unavoidable fate. After a few sips of water and swallowing the pills, she lay back down. "Did you find the sleds?"

"Only one. There's a little food and water, but at least it was the one with the radios."

Jenna's eyes flashed at him and she attempted to sit up. "But I thought you said it wasn't safe to use the radio?"

"It's not. We don't know who could be listening in. But once I get you down to the glacier, we might just have to."

"What if they come back?"

"I'm hoping they've given up. At least for now."

She leaned her head back and sighed. "Okay. You've gotten us this far."

"Jenna, I will do everything in my power to get you guys to safety and protect you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah. Just don't forget your promise . . ." Her eyes closed, the grip on his hand went limp.

"I won't forget," Cole whispered and touched her forehead.

The woman confused him on so many levels.

He slid his hand over to her silky hair. So black it held a hint of blue. Running his hand down a lock, he rubbed the soft strands between his fingers.

Get a grip, Maddox!

Cole leaned back against the icy wall and reined in his thoughts. She made him promise. Begged him. But what if it was all a lie? Could she know more than she let on?

And what about her faith? Andie was outspoken with hers. But Jenna . . . she held everything close. Quietly watching and guarding . . .

He turned away from Jenna. How did they do it? How had this one woman and one young girl peeled back his carefully constructed layers in such a short time? Now all he wanted was to know more about them.

Marc had shared pictures and stories of his family, but his own pain prevented him from paying close attention. There never seemed to be a way to heal. Until now.

Memories assaulted him again. He shut his eyes. Nine long years.

But it seemed like yesterday . . .

———

It was good to be home.

Hard to believe he'd been in Pakistan the night before. Amanda urged him to sleep in, but his body's clock was off. As his beautiful wife glided into the room, a steaming breakfast plate in her hand, he watched with a smile, then pulled her into the bed beside him.

"I'll share." He winked, enjoying her warmth. Man, he missed her when he was called away.

Their toddler—hair sticking straight out of her head, with teddy bear in tow—appeared in the doorway. "Me too! Me too!" She jumped on the bed.

"Careful, you little wiggle worm," Amanda chided. "We don't want to spill Daddy's breakfast."

"'Kay, Mommy. I be careful."

Chloe sidled up next to him, molding her little three-year-old frame to his side and placing her hand on his chest. It never ceased to amaze him how that one tiny touch could heal so many sore spots inside his heart. The missions became harder and harder to distance himself from.

"Daddy, we pwayed for you evwy night." Her small hand patted him as she leaned her head on his arm.

"Did you now?" He smiled at Amanda.

Her blue eyes shimmered. "We sure did. Chloe had special requests for you every day. Like, 'help Daddy eat his brussel sprouts,' and 'keep Daddy strong,' and my favorite, 'let Daddy come home today.'"

Cole squeezed his daughter, kissing the top of her head. "Thanks for praying such good prayers for me." He turned to Amanda. "But you don't have to worry about me, sweetheart."

"I know." Amanda reached up and touched his face. "I don't. You're in God's hands, and I trust Him."

Her faith was unshakable. And it made him uncomfortable. "So, what have you got planned for the day?"

Chloe popped up on her knees, eyes lit up. "We go to the park, and I get to wear my new wubber boots!"

"Really? That sounds like fun."

"I'm gonna spwash in mud puddles." She slid off the side of the bed. "I show you my boots, Daddy."

"Okay." He pulled Amanda close again.

"I figured you needed some debriefing time, and she's dying to wear those new boots."

Her curly hair tickled his neck. "Thanks, you know me well. Although, at the moment, I don't want you to move."

She tipped her head back to look at him, and then leaned in for a kiss. "So you missed me, huh?" Her fingers ran along his jaw.

"More than you know—"

"Look, Daddy!" Chloe jumped up and down at the foot of the bed.

"Wow." Cole cleared his throat. "That's some outfit."

Chloe twirled in her red rubber boots, pink-and-black striped skirt, purple T-shirt, and yellow raincoat.

Amanda giggled beside him. "She obviously gets her fashion sense from you." She poked his chest and scooted off the bed before he could retaliate.

Chloe grabbed her hand. "Let's go, Mommy. I'm all weady."

"Let me get dressed, Munchkin." Amanda blew him a kiss as they headed to the bathroom. "And then we'll give Daddy some man-time."

Their voices trailed off down the hallway.

Cole slid out of bed and pulled a T-shirt over his head. At least he didn't have to go anywhere. But he would be required to file his reports online.

A grunt preceded his drop to the floor and he put in his quota of push-ups for the morning. Every muscle in his body ached from this last mission, but he had to stay in shape. After the set of 200, he hopped to his feet and headed to the weight machine.

"Cole?" Amanda's voice drifted up the stairs. "We'll be back in an hour or so."

"Okay." He shouted down.

"Love you!"

"Wuv you!"

The door slammed as he finished a set of fifteen bench presses. Around the station he worked, faithfully putting in each set. Sweat dripped from him when he finished and grabbed a towel. A hot shower should kick his brain into gear. Then he'd have just enough time to e-mail a few brief reports before the girls returned.

Exiting the steamy bathroom, Cole headed for the computer desk. The phone rang before he could even sit down.

Too much to do. Besides, he hated answering the phone, he'd just let the machine get it.

Beep.
"Mr. Maddox, there's been an accident. Please call—"

He lunged for the phone. "Hello?" The handset slipped in his sweaty palm. "Hello?"

"Mr. Maddox?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Maddox, this is Doctor Wilson from Providence Emergency Room. I'm sorry, sir, but you need to come down here."

"What happened?"

"There's been an accident. Your wife and daughter—"

"Are they all right? Tell me what happened."

Silence.

"Are you there?"

"Sir, you need to come here. To the Emergency Room. Now. There's . . . sir, I'm sorry. There's not much time."

He threw the phone down and grabbed his keys. How could this happen? Why didn't he go with them? Were those few minutes of laughter and smiles just an hour before . . . the last he'd spend with his family?

Anger boiled to the surface as his truck tires squealed on the driveway. "God, she trusted You! Where were You?"

———

The angry question rang in Cole's memory, even as the kink in his neck sent a sharp throb to his brain that brought him fully awake. The vision of three-year-old Chloe remained in his mind.

Oh, how he missed them.

A shiver gripped him, he needed to warm up his aching body. Cole crawled over to his tunnel and climbed into the sleeping bag. As he wrapped himself in the cocoon and zipped it up, his thoughts returned to the dark-haired beauty and her daughter.

Could they really not know? Was it possible they had no idea what Marc really did? What programs he'd created? The prototypes he helped construct?

That kind of money didn't grow on trees—and it sure didn't come from the government. Jenna was too smart. She had to know. The perks of her lifestyle no doubt helped her turn her conscience off.

He rolled onto his side. No. They couldn't know. If they'd suspected anything at all, those two would have interrogated Marc until he succumbed to the pressure of their united force.

The battle raged within his mind. If Jenna was telling the truth, if she didn't know anything, then should he tell her? His teeth clenched at the thought. Finding out what her husband really did . . . it would be ugly. He could imagine the fire shooting out of her eyes. She'd hate Cole for keeping the truth from her—almost as much as she'd hate him for telling her. And he could forget her ever trusting him again.