The Killing Game (17 page)

But the fact he’d awoken this edgy sexual energy inside her freaked her out. So, for a change, she’d been cranky with him. It was a wonder he hadn’t put a bullet in her.

“Josef said you lost your husband in Iraq.”

Her chin jerked up and she swallowed the unexpected punch of grief. “Josef talks too much.” She blinked rapidly, sideswiped by the memories and the feeling of betrayal her response to this man evoked. Yet it was so long ago—should it still hurt this much?

Since Gideon died, she’d dedicated her life to helping endangered species with no time or emotional energy for human complications. She wasn’t sure how to act or how to feel now that someone had finally worked their way past her guard. Especially someone who’d probably leave in a day or two. Especially another soldier who might die.

He didn’t even look like Gideon and that felt like a double betrayal. How could she lust after someone so different from the man she’d loved? They’d been teenage sweethearts, and with their matching brown eyes and hair, she and Gideon could have passed as siblings. They’d loved each other from the moment they’d met. He wasn’t supposed to enlist. She’d never agreed to be an army wife.

God, how they’d fought about that.

It was the only time they’d truly argued and it had been vicious. And then he’d been killed.

She pressed her lips together. Even now, after so many years, she still hadn’t let go of the anger or the grief. Maybe she never would.

She turned on the receiver and checked the signals from this high elevation.

“Still the same?” His eyes were as blue as the brightest sky.

“Yes.” She looked away.

“The good news is there were no gunshots today.” Dempsey was trying to make her feel better, which made her feel worse. “Maybe we should head back and see if I can raise HQ for more intel.”

She swatted at a fly. “Okay.”

Dust rose as they packed the gear, trying to do it as quietly and surreptitiously as possible. Her eyes were drawn to the tanned muscles of his arms as he shoved things into his pack.

“I was so angry when he joined up.” The words came out of nowhere.

“Your husband? He didn’t talk to you about it first?”

She shook her head. “I was in graduate school. He was a computer programmer and his best friend was killed by an IED. He signed up the next day. Came home and told me.” Even now, more than a decade later, the feelings from that moment threatened to choke her. He’d chosen to leave her. Chosen to go to war. It had scraped her to the bone.

Why was she telling him this? She never discussed it. Never. “He promised he wasn’t going to die.” She felt his hands on her shoulders and gritted her teeth, fighting her anger and her shame.

“Axelle.” He sighed. “I’ve been a soldier for a long time. I’ve lost a lot of friends—especially over the last decade. Some died heroes, others died because of shoddy equipment and because penny pinchers in the MOD know sweet Fanny Adams about warfare. But none of them died on purpose.”

“What about the people you leave behind? Don’t you even care about them?” Her vision swam but she needed an answer to the questions that haunted her.

“You’ll need to ask someone else.” His expression flattened out into an impassive mask. “I don’t have anyone who gives a rat’s ass whether I live or die.”

“You’re an orphan?” Her eyes sought and found his, pushing for answers.

“I wish.”

“Your family would care—”

“I’m dead to them.” His eyes grew detached, his voice hard.

She grabbed his fingers. Held on even when he tried to pull away. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. He could fight her off if he wanted to. They both knew it.

“Why?” she pressed.

Unexpectedly, he pulled her against his chest and she caught her breath as his lips hovered an inch from hers. He didn’t kiss her. She wrapped her arms around him in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to touch a man in years. Maybe not since her husband had been deployed.

It felt good to hold him, to feel warm supple muscles flex beneath her fingers. His Adam’s apple rippled in his throat. He smelled strong and warm.

“My story isn’t going to tell you what your husband was thinking when he died. It won’t teach you forgiveness.”

She closed her eyes and buried her nose in the crook of his neck. Some of the awful tension she’d been carrying for years leached from her marrow. Even though she wasn’t a woman who needed anyone, it was cathartic and reassuring to be held by such physical strength, by such emotional surety.

“He shouldn’t have joined up without talking to you about it.” His hand brushed over her hair.

No, Gideon shouldn’t have enlisted without talking to her first, but hating him for it served no purpose. She had to let go of the past.

“Although I doubt it would have changed anything in the end.”

She pressed her lips tighter together.

He held her away from him and she forced herself to look into that perceptive gaze.

“He needed to fight.” One side of his lips pulled into a crooked smile. “Some of us need to fight for our country, the same way you fight for wildlife.” With a final squeeze he let her go and stepped away. Busied himself folding the tarp.

“Are you married?” She suddenly needed to know.

“No.” He was bent over but he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Are you proposing?” A glint of humor lit his eyes.

“No.” Somehow she was both relieved and intimidated and she didn’t bother to fake a smile. “It just might have been easier if you were.”

Their gazes collided and a million sparks ignited the air between them. Heat rose to press against her skin because she didn’t want this and she could tell from his expression neither did he. “You remind me of everything I lost.”

“I’m just an ordinary soldier.” His voice was low and fervent. “There are thousands of us, trying to protect civilians by doing the dangerous, ugly jobs most people don’t want to think about. It doesn’t always go to plan.” There was a faraway look in his eyes. “But that’s what we try to do. Kill the bad guys. Save the innocents. And although I never knew your husband, I’d bet my ass that’s why he went to war—to protect the people he loved. To protect you.”

A hawk cried overhead and her head pounded with an incoming headache.

“If you can accept
that
then maybe you can begin to forgive him, and yourself.”

“Maybe I don’t deserve forgiveness.”
Damn
. Her epiphany didn’t seem to surprise him, but it shocked the hell out of her.

He tied the tarp carefully to his pack. “Then become a Catholic because then it doesn’t matter what sins you commit. Christ the Lord will welcome you to Heaven with open arms as long as you repent and go to Mass.” Bitterness made his voice sharp. “Bloody fucking religion. Let’s go.”

She’d roused some inner demon.
Terrific job, Axelle
. Although pissing him off kept distance between them and right now she needed that distance, because when he’d held her she’d never wanted to let go. This man wasn’t sticking around, she reminded herself. He went where he was ordered, when he was ordered.

It took them an hour to get back to camp, but neither said a word. Dempsey walked while she rode. He was unstoppable, seemingly tireless. When they got back Anji was standing outside the main yurt, wringing his hands.

“Dr. Dehn. Thank goodness you’re here. Josef radioed, he’s been trying to reach you. They think they spotted the poacher’s tracks near their snare.”

“Shit. Are they sure?” Dempsey answered.

“No. Not sure.” Anji replied with a hint of fear. “Nobody sure of anything.”

Dempsey eyed their Russian van. “Would that thing make it to their position?”

Axelle thought about it. “Pretty much. It might get stuck in the stream though,” she warned.

“Can I borrow it?” Dempsey asked her.

“Sure.” This would give her the chance to break the effect he was having on her. She slid from the horse’s back, her muscles feeling like she’d been kick-boxing an iron giant. “Keys are in it. Take Anji with you,” she suggested. The poor guy had been stuck here for the past few days doing nothing except feed kittens. Although that was more than she’d achieved today.

Dempsey frowned.

“He’s training to be a ranger. It’ll be valuable experience for him and he knows the area better than anyone. I’ll look after the cubs.”

Dempsey stared at the man and finally nodded. “Okay. Be good.” He winked at her, and a half smile lit his face before he and Anji climbed in the van and trundled away into the dusty brown vista.

“I’m always good,” she whispered. That was the problem.

She checked on the cubs, who were snoozing in the wooden crate Anji had procured for them. She headed over to the shower area and had a quick wash to remove the worst of the grime. Tired, she decided to grab a nap before sorting through her email. She pushed into her tent and bent to take off her boots. The next moment, a hand clamped over her nose and mouth, and a prick of pain shot through her thigh. Panic blasted away her exhaustion but even as she fought and struggled, strong hands muffled her screams so they died like whimpers in her throat. Then she slammed into darkness.

***

They’d followed the spoor for two hours but ground sign was disappearing as dust swirled in the wind. Dempsey was torn. Did he keep following the unknown originator of these tracks or go back to base camp and regroup. Base camp was calling his name but he wasn’t sure whether that was because Axelle had destroyed his objectivity or because it was the smartest thing to do.

Hell, right now he was going in circles.

“Let’s mark this GPS position and head back,” he said to Taz quietly. The sound of horses hooves drumming against solid earth made him glance in the direction of the biologists’ camp. The student—Josef—came flying into view, coat open and flapping in time to the rhythm of the horse.

“What the feck?” They’d all rendezvoused at the snare where the tracks had been spotted, but he’d sent Josef and the local man back to camp on horseback an hour ago. He hadn’t liked the idea of Axelle being alone, although she’d managed without him all these years, so she could probably cope for an afternoon.

Josef started yelling, which made Dempsey shake his head and climb slowly to his feet. Any hope of a clandestine patrol had been eliminated, although with all the general commotion he didn’t know why he bothered.

The big man stopped in a shower of gravel. “Is Axelle here?”

Dempsey frowned as he grabbed the horse’s reins. “What do you mean? Isn’t she back at camp?”

The big man’s cheeks were red and his breath puffed out of his lungs in short bursts. He shook his head.

“Maybe she went out to check the traps?” Cullen suggested, walking up behind them.

Josef shook his head. “None of them have been sprung, and even if they had she’d never leave without one of the receivers.” Cullen looked guiltily away—he had the second one, which he’d filched from camp. Josef was still trying to catch his breath. “The shortwave radio is smashed. Otherwise I wouldn’t have ridden all this way. I’d have called.”

Dempsey pulled Josef from the horse and swung into the saddle. Something was wrong. He could feel it. As the sun was dropping in the sky he kicked the horse into full gallop. Panic squeezed his chest. Where the hell had she wandered off to? Why did he feel like someone had fucked him over?

At full gallop, Dempsey felt a rush of adrenaline as the raw breeze lashed his skin. He let the animal have its head. It seemed to take forever but the horse knew exactly where it was going and was surefooted as any goat. Finally, he could see the pale outline of the camp ahead. Anji was standing outside the main yurt, a look of confusion stamped on his features. Dempsey was beginning to suspect that was his default expression. He pulled the horse to a stop and leapt down. He went inside Axelle’s yurt, noted the bedroll neatly laid out and the undented pillow. Unlit fire. He pushed his way back outside and turned to look in the corral, but the yaks and camel weren’t telling him anything.

He stalked to the main tent and headed straight to the laptop, which was already running. He needed to talk to his CO but wasn’t quite sure where they were in the hunt—aside from the obvious lack of one of the most wanted terrorists on the face of the earth.

Anji came to stand behind him, his fingers dancing agitatedly across his chest. “We checked as soon as we got back but she wasn’t here.”

Dempsey glanced at a box that bumped and moved beside the fire. “The cubs are okay?”

“I fed them. They were hungry. Axelle hadn’t fed them the way she said she would. That isn’t like her.” The Wakhi man reached down and pulled out a fluffy mass of fur.

It reminded Dempsey that the poacher had known about the biologists’ camp all along. They suspected the Russian was using the collars to track the leopards, leaving no doubt he knew about this operation. He was a bold, smart, slippery sonofabitch.

Where the hell was Axelle?

White-hot fear stabbed down his spine. He had the feeling he’d missed something—that he’d been looking straight ahead while someone sideswiped him. That was usually the Regiment’s job.

He frowned. Maybe he was asking the wrong questions. Not
where
was Axelle, but
who
was Axelle Dehn?

He googled her name and came up first with her webpage for MSU. Then clicked the link to the snow leopard project that was funded by The Conservation Trust. He scanned the short biography, and clicked another link to the
National Geographic
article Josef had mentioned.

“Bloody fucking hell.”

The Wakhi man flinched.

“When do Axelle and Josef normally arrive to start tracking the leopards?”

“In summer when she’s done teaching. Josef was supposed to have come earlier than her this year, but—”

“It says here she’s the daughter of the US Ambassador to Great Britain?” It said a hell of a lot more too. Shit. She had more potential enemies than he did, and her name and face and summer location had been broadcast to the whole world. Incredible.

The Wakhi man shrugged nervously. “I don’t know anything about that. She doesn’t talk about anything personal.”