Devil's Gold (10 page)

“You're kidding, right? We have to use it. Otherwise my valuable time and intellect will have been wasted.”

Cassidy cocked a brow at him. “You really need to work on your self-confidence. Besides, they let you out all the time, so quit your whining.”

“Bitch.”

She growled and launched her fist in his direction, missing on purpose. He laughed and ducked her sucker punch, then jogged up the stairs and into the plane before she could reach out and really smack him. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“I know.”

“Cassidy?”

Cassidy lifted her nose from the stack of documents she'd been lost in for the past four hours, and blinked at Steve. “What?” The hum of airplane engines acted as a soothing anesthetic, causing her to yawn.

Steve laughed and shook his head. “You're not speaking to me.”

She tilted her head and quirked one brow. “You're so sensitive. The fact of the matter is that I'm plowing through this invigorating report on wolves compiled by our enthusiastic research center.” Waving the stack of documents at him, she smiled. “Besides, I hate flying.”

“You're angry.”

“Am not. I made you fajitas and margaritas the other night, didn't I?”

He leaned forward and snatched the documents out of her hands, stuffing them into a black leather messenger bag at her feet. “I can't tell you anything more about Black Stripe.”

She sighed and gazed out the window. They were three-quarters of the way from Atlanta to Jackson. Secretly, Cassidy had been thrilled when she'd spotted him at Dobbins. His analytic brain was more precious than the entire ZEBRA mainframe. But she was pissed at his lack of forthrightness regarding Black Stripe, and being in such close quarters with him the past few hours made it hard to hide.

“Right,” she huffed.

“Cassidy,” he sighed. “I can't.”

She leveled an I-don't-believe-you stare in his direction and reached down to reclaim her reports. “All you know is that they are a military division assigned to track our organization?”

“Yep.”

“That's it?”

“Yep.”

She stared at him, noticing the way his foot tapped against the floor. Steve was in constant motion, but the systematic rhythm of his toe bothered her. “You're lying.” She stood up and paced in a circle, running her tongue across her teeth. She needed gum. The plane's passenger compartment was outfitted to afford the most comfort, with overstuffed chairs arranged to promote conversation and a small kitchenette in the back.

Cassidy made her way to the back, rumbling through the cabinets and finding a pack of salted nuts. From the half-sized refrigerator, she snagged a bottle of water she figured would be enough to eliminate the sandpaper feel of her mouth.

Not wanting to continue her discussion with Steve, Cassidy sat down at one of the work centers and logged onto the corporate network. She skimmed through her e-mail. There wasn't anything of importance, and most of it she deleted as spam. Even with the high level of security at ZEBRA, jokes and chain mails still managed to filter in.

It irritated Cassidy.

Turbulence shook the plane, and her stomach knotted. “I can do this,” she said. Steve twisted in his chair and glanced back at her, patting the seat next to him. She disconnected from the network and sighed. “Crap.” Making her way back toward the front of the jet, Cassidy concentrated on deep breathing exercises to calm the current uncomfortable sensations in her belly.

“Cassidy, calm down.”

She glared at Steve and felt the plane bank to the left. Clutching the headrest of the seat, she lowered herself into place and buckled her belt back up. With a quick glance out the window, she swore violently when a string of mountain ranges came into view. “The Almighty certainly has a wicked sense of humor.”

Steve chuckled. “How's that?”

Her memories surfaced, and she rubbed her temple. “‘He'll only give you what you can handle' is what my mother always said.”

“Wise woman.”

She snorted. “I can't handle this. First Africa. Now Jackson. I thought my bravery at returning home would be enough martyrdom. This flight seems like an unnecessary evil.” Cassidy shook her head, gritting her teeth against the painful burning in her chest. Against her better judgment, she scooted into the seat beside the window and pushed up the blind. They flew through shadows. It wasn't clouds blocking out the sun but thousands of feet of jagged rock.

The Grand Tetons.

Breathtaking. Majestic. Deadly.

Watching the mountains pass by, Cassidy rested her head against the cool window. She'd be a wreck by the time they landed. Triple damn. The plane bucked against the increasing turbulence, causing Cassidy to grip the arms of her seat in a panic.

The pilot's voice boomed over the intercom. “You might want to buckle up; it can get a bit dicey through this stretch.”

“No shit,” she said, quickly tightening her seat belt. A morbid sense of curiosity prevented her from closing the blinds.

“Stop it, Cassidy.”

Steve's voice startled her, and she turned toward him. “Stop what?”

“Whatever it is that's burning a hole in your chest. Look at you! You're an emotional basket case. What's the matter?”

Slamming the blind down, she unbuckled the seat belt, scooted sideways, re-buckled the belt, and poked a finger into Steve's chest. “This is how my parents died.” The plane rocked and shuddered. She bit her lower lip and continued to stare at Steve.

“Bullshit.” They slid to the left as the plane dipped. Her stomach dropped, and she suppressed the need to wretch. Not good. This was not good at all. She wrenched her seat belt tighter.

Cassidy glared at him. “At twenty-four, I resigned from Yellow-stone

National Park and accepted a position with ZEBRA.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve clucked his tongue in dismay. “Tell me something I don't know.”

The plane plummeted what felt like five hundred feet but in reality was probably only fifty. She gripped the arms of her chair and closed her eyes tightly. Cassidy bent over and lowered her voice to a menacing whisper. “Nine years ago, my parents flew through these very same skies.” Her flesh puckered up in a series of chilling goose bumps.

“Uh huh.” Steve said, his voice void of emotion.

Cassidy ignored him. “Right when they were about to land …” she rounded her eyes and swept her arm down, “a huge blast of air shot down from the icy glaciers above and smashed them into the side of the Tetons.”

Steve inhaled. “Holy shit. Why didn't you ever tell me this?”

“You never asked.”

“I asked plenty; you just shut me out.” Steve clamped his teeth down and stared at her.

The plane vibrated, and Cassidy breathed deeply. “Don't play all wounded puppy on me. You seem to have your own horde of secrets you refuse to share.”

“It's classified, Cass.”

“Yeah? Well, you'd better start praying that God's not classified us in the same category He did my parents.” Cassidy felt the dip of the private jet as it circled left in preparation for landing.

Home.

A loud thud signaled the drop of landing gear, and she squeezed her armrest. She never should've eaten those peanuts. “Remember,” Cassidy prayed, “this Lowell doesn't want to crash. She's not quite done here on Earth. You've got my parents; let's not be greedy.”

The pilot's voice boomed from the intercom. “Hang tight; this landing's gonna be about as smooth as a ten-point buck slamming into your behind.”

“What?” Steve squeaked.

Cassidy leaned over and flipped up the window visor. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. The plane was eating up the runway, and there was nowhere else to go but the side of a mountain. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she chanted, laughing when she heard Steve mimicking her words. Grasping his hand, she held tight.

An ear-piercing screech filled the cabin, and her world spun out of control as the wheels slid off the runway.

J
AKE LAY SPRAWLED ON THE HOOD OF THE ZEBRA-STRIPED
J
EEP
. His hands were linked behind his head, resting on the glass of the windshield. He tilted his face toward the sky, soaking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. A thin trickle of sweat ran down his bare chest and tickled his belly button. He sat up, scratched, and raised his arm to shield his eyes from the bright sky. In the distance, the sun sparkled off the silver wings of an approaching plane.

Dr. Cassidy Lowell.

Hell and damnation if this wasn't going to be the most frustrating assignment. He'd spent the past few days solidifying his cover and reading spreadsheet after spreadsheet regarding wolf habitat and migration. It didn't take him long to realize there'd be very little scientific involvement on his end. This was nothing more than a damn babysitting job. Not even a rogue Isotria to be logged.

He squinted and watched as the plane's wings banked sharply to the left. Jake frowned and snatched his sunglasses off his T-shirt. He focused on the landing and swore loudly. “Sonofabitch.”

Jake's heart thumped against his chest as he watched the approach of the black-and-white-striped corporate jet. The pilot miscalculated the air density, making the plane veer too sharply. Snatching up his shirt, he shoved it over his head and jumped behind the wheel of the Jeep.

The high-pitched squeal of rescue vehicles carried down the runway, and he pulled behind them, driving at breakneck speed.

Jake cringed when the jet spun off the tarmac, its tail skidding sideways, kicking up dirt and grass. When the plane came to an abrupt stop, undamaged, Jake let out a sigh of relief. He maneuvered his vehicle between the fire truck and ambulance.

The cabin door opened, and stairs unfolded. As the engines settled into silence, voices from within the plane drifted down. A woman appeared at the top of the stairs, pushed aside the pilot, and tossed a moss green duffel bag down the steps. The bag landed on the grass with a resounding thud.

Dr. Cassidy Lowell. He'd never seen her in proper daylight. She was tall, as thin as a whip, and had a halo of golden hair that made a grown man want to get down on his knees and pay homage. Jake let out a low wolf whistle and headed in her direction. She sure was pretty.

“That was some sorry-ass landing,” she snapped.

He remembered the tone of that voice and shook his head, glad he wasn't on the receiving end.

“How the hell'd you get your pilot's license?”

Another man exited the plane and scooted Cassidy down the stairs. Jake grinned when he recognized the familiar face of Steve Pullen. The rescue team made their way up the stairs, stopping the doctor's downward march as they verified everyone was safe and sound.

“Dr. Lowell?” he called from the base of the steps. Poor pilot. The man looked like he needed a drink. Actually, he looked like he could down an entire twelve pack and still need a drink. A brisk wind swept across the tarmac, stealing the bite of heat from the runway.

“Yeah?” The face of ZEBRA's lead zoologist stared down at him. “Who the hell are you?”

No recognition. Good. “Jake Anderson, ma'am.”

She jogged the rest of the length of the stairs and stopped before him. Her head tilted up slightly, and deep emerald eyes returned his appraising gaze. “And who is Jake Anderson?”

“I'm your biologist.”

“Where's Liv?”

“Liv Somers is currently en route to Cuba.” She folded her arms across her chest. Jake tried to keep his eyes from dropping to the enticing skin exposed at the base of her neck, but he couldn't resist. When his gaze traveled back up, there was a noticeable frost in her eyes. “Too bad,” she said coldly.

“I'm sorry your landing was rather rough.”

Her face flushed bright red. “Rough? Is that your definition of almost kissing the side of a mountain at 120 miles per hour?”

She was sassy. He liked sassy. Instead of fueling her temper, he shrugged and waved at the pilot. “You know, I'd expected a different person,” he said. “Is this normal behavior for you?”

Cassidy raised her brows and shrugged. “Normally I'm an insufferable bitch. I think I'm being rather pleasant today.”

Steve walked up behind Cassidy. “I can vouch for that.”

“Thank goodness for small blessings,” Jake answered, picking up Cassidy's briefcase. “Good to see you again, Steve.”

“Right back atcha.” Steve answered.

Cassidy turned her attention toward Steve, and Jake watched in amazement at the transformation of her face. It went from guarded and unfriendly to open and trusting. Harsh to beautiful in under three seconds. “I suggest you check the belly of the beast,” she said. Jake's eyes widened when she patted Steve's cheek. Cassidy continued, “I'd hate to think all your intelligence and hard work were wasted because of that piss-poor landing.”