The Maze (ATCOM) (3 page)

A
sudden wind picked up, whipping a strand of hair free from her ponytail. A
chill cut straight through her. They stood on a rocky cliff overlooking a
canyon. The sun had gone under hours ago, leaving only the gray, dreary sky of
early nightfall. Rock sat all around them except for the cluster of tall pines
at their back.

Noah
was looking at the sky, eyes narrowed. “See those clouds?” He pointed at a
cluster of dark, billowing swirls.

Attie
followed his gaze and nodded.

“Cumulus
clouds building vertically like that mean a storm is approaching. We have to
take cover.”

“Temp’s
been dropping steadily.”

“Another
warning. Come on.”

As
they turned and sprinted toward the pines, a strong wind blew past, followed by
a crack of thunder. Their sprint turned into a run as it began to rain. She
double-timed it in order to keep up with Noah’s long, powerful strides. The
added weight of her pack made it difficult to keep up. The wind forced her
back.

Two
paces ahead, Noah veered right. Frowning, Attie followed. The rain was coming
down hard now, making it difficult to see.

Squinting,
she searched for Noah’s dark jacket and picked up her pace. He materialized out
of the mist, grabbed her hand, and propelled her along with him at an
exhausting pace. She felt the strain of the past two days. Her body ached from
exertion and the demand that had been placed on it. Her muscles protested the
movement as she pushed to keep up.

The
wind whipped her hair free of its ponytail, blowing it around her face and into
her eyes. Her breath puffed out. Her pack bounced mercilessly on her back. She
tried to pull her hand free of Noah’s, unwilling to accept his help no matter
how tired she was, but he refused to let go. His grip tightened. He practically
dragged her now. Shouting at him would do no good. He wouldn’t be able to hear
her over the storm raging around them.

A
tree limb slapped her in the face, barely missing her eye. She ducked as he
veered right, pulling her along with him.

The
terrain became rougher and steeper. The trees thinned, opening into rock. Attie
blinked the water out of her eyes, squinting to see around her for somewhere to
take shelter. Her feet grew heavy, her breath sawed in and out of her lungs.

They
climbed over rocky terrain. The incline made her calf muscles burn, but she
kept on going, slipping and sliding over slick rock. At one point she lost her
footing when her boot slipped across a wet rock, and she went down painfully on
one knee. She wasn’t too cold to feel
that
as she cracked her shin.

Gritting
her teeth against the pain, Attie stayed on her knees, head down. Numbing pain
shot up her thigh.

Ahead
of her Noah faltered. She pushed to her feet before he turned, and lunged ahead.
He motioned to his left and headed in that direction. Attie looked and saw the
opening of a cave about fifty yards away. It looked more like a crawlspace, but
she’d take it. Nodding, she headed toward it.

They
crouched low and inched their way toward the opening at the other end. The
tunnel opened into a cave too small to stand in. It was just as cold and damp
in here, but it would suffice. All they needed to do was wait out the storm.

Noah
set a lantern in the center of the cave and shrugged out of his pack. Attie did
the same, glad to be rid of the weight, and sat on the ground, stretching her
legs out in front of her. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced his way to find
him frowning at her.

“What?”

“You’re
bleeding.”

She
lifted a hand to her cheek, remembering the branch that had hit her. Warm blood
slid onto her fingers.

“I
have a butterfly bandage in my First Aid kit.” Noah unzipped one of the side
pockets of his pack.

“I
have my own kit.”

“I
need to look at it to see if you need stitches.”

Attie
jerked her pack open. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Have
you got a mirror?”

Where
was her kit?

Noah
was crouched beside her before she could protest, First Aid kit in hand. But
his was no ordinary kit. Not only did it carry First Aid supplies, but survival
gear. This man had been trained by the Navy to survive in any condition.

With
Noah Kincaid, what you saw was not necessarily what you got. For instance, she
knew he preferred a Sig Sauer 9mm and carried a dive knife on his person,
though you wouldn’t find it if you looked.

The
cave got even smaller with him so close. Her pulse quickened. He reached for
her chin and she scooted back, bumping into the wall. The last thing she wanted
was for him to touch her.

“Just
give me the mirror, Kincaid,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips.

He
moved with her, anticipating her reaction, so he was again crouched next to
her. Close enough she could see the raindrops that clung to his eyelashes and
upper lip. His lashes were long and dark, framing a pair of blue eyes. Her eyes
traveled over his jaw, which was covered with two-day stubble, making him look
more rugged than usual.

As
an instructor at the academy he’d shown up to class the first day in well-worn
fatigues and combat boots that had seen better days. His hair had been long
enough to curl around his shirt collar. He hadn’t shaved that morning either.
She still remembered that day and the shock of meeting him for the first time.
She’d expected her instructor to be older and more experienced, but had quickly
learned her mistake. Noah Kincaid might not have the experience in number of
years, but in knowledge he far exceeded her expectations.

She’d
experienced an odd jolt of awareness as she watched him, noticing the grace
with which he moved and the confidence in his stance. He was a man who took
control and demanded attention. The silence in the classroom confirmed her
suspicions.

He
had stood silently at the head of the class, measuring each and every student
individually with a cool, steady gaze. Attie remembered her turn to be
scrutinized. His size hadn’t intimidated her, but his eyes did. When he looked
at her, she’d had to fight the urge to shield herself. There was a tranquility
about his eyes, yet they looked straight into her soul and read all her
secrets. It unnerved her, but knew she would have to get used to it, being the
only female in the academy. She hadn’t known what to expect from this rugged,
silently intense instructor and it hadn’t taken long to find out…

“Hold
still.”

She
glared at Noah, who cupped her chin again and leaned close to inspect her
wound. He ignored her stare and reached up with his other hand to probe her
wound. By now she’d thawed out enough to feel the sting, but she didn’t jerk
away. His fingers were warm against her skin and his breath stirred her hair.

“From
now on you wear a hat, not a hood,” he said.

Attie
scowled. “I forgot to pack one.”

Noah
glanced at her briefly. “Then you’ll wear mine. You don’t need stitches.”

He
let her go and opened his kit, which was very well organized. She was doing her
best to remain unaffected by his closeness, and trying to concentrate on
something else besides the feel of his fingers on her skin. His touch was
light, a mere caress, but it affected her deeply, and that disturbed her.

She
glanced over and met Noah’s eyes, struck by their incredible color. They’d
always had the power to entrance. They were doing it now. She couldn’t look
away, and she couldn’t read his thoughts.

For
a moment time, stood still and all that separated them faded into the past.
Noah’s hand cupped her cheek, his palm rough against her skin, and that
familiar spark charged the air around them. She always wondered if it was her
imagination or if others sensed it too. If they did, they never commented on
it.

It
had been a long time since she’d experienced it, and it scared her even more
now. As an agent she’d ignored it because she had to. But she wasn’t an agent
any longer, and that was as dangerous a thought as any. What was this thing
between them that hadn’t changed despite the past separating them? She didn’t
understand it, couldn’t explain it, and didn’t know how to feel about it.
Things had changed. There could be nothing between them. She had changed. He
had done the unthinkable. A relationship was not in the cards for them, not now
and not ever.

The
thought sobered her and she pulled away. Moments later she had a bandage on her
cheek and distance between them. Just the way she needed it.

Chapter
3

Noah
watched Attie lay out her sleeping bag, the dim glow of the lantern casting a
shadow on her profile. Something about her drew him. He’d always been able to
deny his attraction, but now…things were different. He would never jeopardize
the mission, would rein in his feelings, because he knew there was more going
on here than simple attraction.

Nothing
had ever been simple between them. More complicated, if anything. The past hung
between them, thick and unspoken, and he had no idea how to fix it.

He
let his gaze run over the fine lines of her profile. She was still beautiful,
but hardened and withdrawn where she’d always been vibrant and headstrong. She
wasn’t fragile, never that, but delicate, as if teetering on the edge of
something no one else could understand.

All
he knew about her mission was what was in the reports she’d given to Seth
during his “visits.” His gut told him there was more, but Attie wasn’t talking.
She kept everything buried, refusing to talk to anyone, and turning to anger
instead of family and friends.

“Turn
your back so I can change out of these wet clothes,” Attie said, looking at him
with eyes that were cool and guarded.

Zipping
the side pocket of his pack, Noah turned his back to her, staring out the
opening of the cave. He could hear her parka rustling as she took it off, then
the rest of her clothing. He didn’t allow himself to imagine what her naked
body looked like bathed in the soft glow of the lantern. Those were dangerous
thoughts and ones he was safer ignoring.

“Your
turn,” she said moments later.

He
turned to find her fully dressed in at least two layers of clothing, covered
neck to foot. Yet, she still looked cold. Her hands were hidden inside the
sleeves of her sweater, her chin tucked inside the turtleneck collar. He wished
they had a place to build a fire, but the cave was too small.

Attie
turned her back when he pulled a pair of cammies out of his pack. She sat
facing the wall with her legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her
knees.

Noah
changed quickly, sensing something was bothering her. Something more than the
chemistry that sizzled between them moments ago. Her shoulders were stiff, her
demeanor guarded. Carefully guarded, as if she were working hard to hide
something from him.

Fully
dressed, he dug two MREs out of his pack and sat across from her.

“Here.”
He tossed her one.

Without
a word she turned, caught it, and tore it open with her teeth.

As
he ate his own he asked, “What’s on your mind, Attie?”

Her
head snapped up. She wouldn’t lie to him, that much he was sure of, but she
wouldn’t tell him everything either. He was on a need-to-know basis.

“I
can’t sleep like this.”

They
had gone full speed all day and she looked tired, so what was this about?

“You
had no problem last night.”

“Last
night I was in a tent far from you.”

She
had set up her tent far from his. He’d chalked it up as attitude and
stubbornness, but tonight he wasn’t going to be so lax. There was more to this
than she was saying.

“This
is the only option we have. Would you feel better if I slept in the entryway?”

“Yes.”

He
stared at her in surprise. “Am I that repulsive to you?”

He’d
expected her full agreement, but she remained oddly silent. He searched her
face for answers.

“How
about if we sleep in shifts?”

He
wasn’t quite grasping the real problem here. Why wouldn’t she sleep in here
with him? What did she think he was going to do? Taking a woman against her
will wasn’t his style. He liked his women ready and willing. Hell, they at
least had to like him. Attie made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

There’d
been a time he’d had to fight his attraction for her, refusing to jeopardize
their careers for sex. Lovers came and went; careers didn’t. He wouldn’t let
Attie ruin hers for him, no matter how much he wanted her. She’d worked too
hard to get where she was. He wasn’t taking that away. He knew she would resent
him for it afterward, and he cared too much to let that happen.

“We’re
far enough away from Brendan’s location we can sleep through the night.”

Well,
she could anyway. He had no intentions of sleeping. He didn’t trust Santiago
and for that reason he would sleep in ten-minute increments throughout the
night. He wanted her to be well rested for tomorrow’s rendezvous, because God
only knew what was waiting for them. As it was, she looked tired enough to
drop.

“Do
I look like a fool, Kincaid? I know how you operate. You aren’t going to sleep
any more than you did last night. Just because I retired doesn’t mean I forgot
how to be a soldier. We need to sleep in shifts so both of us can get some
rest.”

“I’ll
take first watch,” he agreed. He wasn’t challenging her skill as an agent. He
remembered her confidence in the field. What he didn’t remember was her being
so sensitive. She’d had to develop thick skin to overcome adversity, and
looking at her now he realized Santiago had stolen more than her career. Question
was, how long had he been stealing from her before Noah acted on his instincts?

His
hands fisted at his sides, anger rising at the memory of what Santiago had done
to her in that cell.

“No.”

He
snapped back to the present.

“You
won’t wake me,” she accused, guessing his intentions.

Noah
rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger.

“Well,
then, you take the first watch. I’ll relieve you in two.”

“Make
it three.”

He
wasn’t going to sleep more than ten minutes, let alone three hours.

“Two-and-a-half,”
he countered, ignoring the scorching glare she sent him. “Care to explain why
you don’t want to sleep in the same room with me?”

A
number of emotions flashed in her eyes. He was bulldozing his way through her
walls. The only way to get past.

“No,
I don’t, but I will tell you this. I won’t be caught sleeping if Carlos
Santiago decides to attack.”

Noah
felt the first sting to his pride. “You know I’d wake you at the first sign of
danger.”

Her
eyes narrowed defiantly. “Would you?”

“Hell,
yes.”

Again
his pride took a beating. He would never throw an agent to the wolves and she
knew it. She was just too angry and stubborn to admit it.

“Damn
it, where is this coming from? You know damn well I’d never leave you
unprotected.”

“I
never asked for your protection. I’ve never needed anyone’s protection, or have
you forgotten that?”

He
snagged off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. Everything was a battle
with her now. She’d always been stubborn, but damn.

“I
haven’t forgotten, but I think you have,” he said quietly, stretching out on
his sleeping bag and stacking his hands under his head. He still didn’t know
why she didn’t want to sleep in the same vicinity and it frustrated him. She
wasn’t going to budge anytime soon, which put them at an impasse. So for now
he’d let her have her way while he took a combat nap.

He
closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Attie.”

* * * *

Attie
stared at Noah lying casually on top of his sleeping bag, watching his eyelids
twitch. He was already in deep sleep and she knew that when he awoke in fifteen
minutes he’d be fully rested.

In
the academy he’d taught them how to sleep at any given moment and wake up
minutes later, rested and alert. It had been one of the hardest things for her
to learn to do. She could never seem to relax enough. The time she had spent
forty-eight hours on surveillance in Azbakastan had been a different story. She
had been able to take combat naps then without trouble.

Noah,
on the other hand, was an expert. She’d seen him do it many times no matter
what the stress level or the danger they were in. He would drop off to sleep
and wake up alert and rested as if he’d gotten eight full hours of sleep. An
instinct honed during his years as a Navy SEAL. A past so classified he wasn’t
allowed to discuss it. A past she’d often longed to know about. But Noah was a
closed book.

Without
a sound she slipped on her boots and parka, lit her lantern, and prepared to
leave. There was room enough near Noah’s feet to slide out of the cave and into
the entryway. Inching her way around him, she pressed against the wall the best
she could without making any noise and headed for the mouth of the tunnel.

Sitting
just inside the entrance, she propped her back against the cold wall of the
cave and withdrew her Sig from the pocket of her parka. Outside, the wind
howled through the trees. She sighed and snuggled into her parka. She knew she
should sleep, but she didn’t want to risk it. Even though she was bone-weary.

Unwillingly,
her eyes drifted closed.

Hot,
humid air enveloped her as she stepped out of the car Carlos had sent for her.
She tried to fight back her anxiety and elation at being chosen for this
mission. Santiago was a big catch, and if she pulled it off she would pave the
way for women in ATCOM forever. But it was more than that, it was a personal
accomplishment and one she’d worked very hard to achieve.

The
low slung, open-air Spanish style home sprawled in front of her was
magnificent. Brightly colored flowers lined the walkway. Someone had put time
and money into the design. She had never seen anything like it.

She
found the heat stifling compared to the cool, crisp air of the mountains, and
struggled to adjust to its thickness. Her clothes immediately clung to her,
making the silk blouse uncomfortable, but she soon forgot her discomfort as
Carlos Santiago came strolling toward her. A handsome man with dark hair, black
eyes, and olive-colored skin that reflected his heritage. He wore a white suit
tailored to fit his lean frame. Even in the heat he looked comfortable, not a
wrinkle or hair out of place.

“Chrystal,”
he greeted, extending his arms to grip her shoulders.

Attie
hated the name, but it fit her persona. She smiled and turned a cheek for his
kiss.

“So
nice of you to accept my offer.”

His
“offer” to become his mistress.

“Come,
you must be exhausted after your journey.”

Attie
spent the rest of the day being pampered. After a short tour of the estate,
which she mentally mapped out, she’d been whisked away to her suite to change
into a bikini that was much to skimpy for her taste, then ushered out to the
Olympic-sized underground pool for a swim. While she swam and lounged, acting
the perfect, useless girlfriend, Carlos sat with another man who kept sending
her wary glances. Like Carlos, he had dark hair and skin, and was dressed to
perfection in an expensive suit that didn’t seem to wrinkle in the humidity.
Where Carlos was graying at the temples, this man was younger by at least ten
years. Something about him made her uneasy, although she couldn’t put her
finger on what. Then again, she got the same feeling about Carlos. It wasn’t
their profession, it was something else.

Armed
guards were posted at various areas of the fenced-in pool area. Attie had known
coming in that Santiago took security very seriously. Rogan had pulled up
satellite photos of the surveillance cameras positioned at various points of
the estate, the security system, dogs and armed guards. ATCOM suspected Carlos
was branching out from the drug trade and purchasing military weapons from the
US, but had no proof. Part of her assignment was to find it.

The
swim cooled her off, but she was still on edge, the nerves in her stomach not
yet settled. She didn’t want to mess this up. It was her first undercover
assignment.

Emerging
from the water with numerous pairs of eyes following her, Attie picked up her
towel and walked over to Carlos, who had motioned to her.

“I’d
like you to meet a friend of mine. Antonio is a master of architecture. He
designed this home for me as a gift.”

Attie
smiled and extended a hand to the younger man.

He
stood, brought her hand to his lips and planted a kiss on her knuckles.
“Pleased to meet you, Chrystal,” he murmured, measuring her with a cool, wary
glance.

She
made a mental note to have Noah investigate an associate named Antonio. An
architect or a cover?

“You
did a wonderful job,” she gushed. “It’s beautiful.”

Antonio
nodded and helped her into a chair, his hand lingering in hers. She looked to
Carlos to see if he noticed, but he only nodded, so she settled in and spent
the next hour drinking iced tea and listening to the two men talk business, but
not giving her anything she could use. By the time she was excused, she was
exhausted. She showered, wrapped herself in a thin silk robe and sat at the
dressing table next to her bed to brush out her hair. She’d had it styled in a
medium-length cut that accented the angles of her face. A knock sounded on the
door. Not up to company, she bid entrance to her guest.