Authors: Renee Simons
"Fear and gratitude, pleasure and pain, wanting and needing and something I'm afraid to name," he whispered, "that I've never felt before with any woman I've known . . . not even my wife."
She touched his cheek. "Try?"
He covered her hand with his and looked into her dark eyes, imagining he could see acceptance, a soft welcome, a need to share what he felt.
"Being with you feels like . . . coming home."
As if his words had touched some dark, previously untouchable place, silent tears began to flow. He kissed them away, murmuring soft words of comfort.
She opened herself to him and joined with him, receiving the sensual pleasure and the caring that lay within every kiss, every caress, every softly whispered word. In the sharing, she returned warmth and renewal and a gentle passion he would cherish whether or not the future held any hope for them.
Or
him.
Zan woke to the feel of
Stormwalker's
arms around her, his breath feathery soft on the side of her neck, his strong body nested against hers like one spoon against another. Rather than wake him, she lay quietly, remembering how they'd passed the night, or a good part of it. She felt again the heat, the urgency, the passion they'd aroused in each other and then satisfied. Her nipples hardened and moisture started in that place he had so recently filled.
Chagrined and more than a little afraid of her response to the memory of their lovemaking, she shifted out of his arms. They'd made no commitment to each other. If she slipped away now she wouldn't have to see regret in his eyes that they'd come together at all.
"Where're you going?" he asked in a sleep-roughened whisper.
"Back to my place.
I have to check something in the computer." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Come over for coffee, if you care to."
His lips touched the back of her hand. "I have to work this morning. Meet me at the plant," he said and drifted off.
She found her clothes and dressed as quietly as she could before climbing down the ladder. In the doorway of the barn she paused to let her eyes adjust to the bright light of early morning. Anyone in view of her would have fun speculating about what she was doing here.
"Too late to worry about appearances," she muttered and walked out into the street.
Back at the camper, she started the coffee maker and booted up the computer. As she'd awakened, a memory had flashed through her mind that had caused her gut to flip-flop and to keep on flip-flopping until nausea set in.
She loaded the diskette containing trial transcripts and scrolled to an account of
Stormwalker's
alleged betrayal of the Agency. There, just as she'd remembered it, was a piece of information crucial to the case against him.
She went over the data twice, to be sure she understood it,
then
stared at the screen as the printer produced a hard copy of the page. A half hour later, combed, dressed and fortified with a slice of dry toast to calm her queasy stomach, she stopped by Mike's office.
"I'm
gettin
' used to your popping in and out," he said. "You leave and I'm
gonna
miss our visits."
"As long as they aren't disruptive."
Zan looked at the wall of glass and the sweep of land beyond it. The faint blue silhouette of a range of hills, their outline softened by distance and the blur of atmosphere, marked the horizon.
"What mountains are those?" Zan asked, pointing south.
"The Black Hills," Mike answered.
"They're sacred to your people aren't they?"
"They have been as far back as anyone knows." He shook his head. "I just wish we could have kept white folks out."
"Then I guess you wouldn't want me there."
"You're not white folks. You're just folks. Ask my nephew to take you. He knows them well from his youth."
"Thanks for accepting me," Zan said.
"Yeah, well, I'm a pragmatist. So what can I do for you this morning?"
"I'm looking for Stormwalker."
"He's in the storeroom. He'll be right back.
How about some coffee?"
"Whatever you do, don't drink his coffee." Stormwalker stepped inside the small office. "And Uncle, I'd be obliged if you didn't subject my girl to your poisonous brew."
Mike lifted one eyebrow but took no other notice of
Stormwalker's
casual reference to his relationship with Zan. "What's wrong with my coffee?"
"Is today Thursday?"
"Nope."
Stormwalker turned to Zan. "Once a week, on Thursday, he makes a fresh pot of coffee. After that, he just adds new grounds and water to whatever is left. By Wednesday, the stuff is thick enough to support a spoon and acidic enough to peel paint. The caffeine can bug your eyes out of their sockets."
Zan's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, as she looked at Mike. "Tell me he's exaggerating."
"Not by much," Mike said with a grin. "But if I did things any other way my brain would shut down like a rusty power plant and my insides would rebel out of sheer boredom."
"And if I'm here long enough," Stormwalker said, "I'll be just as addicted as he is."
"Thanks for the warning." His reference to time reminded her of why she'd come. The nausea returned.
"What's wrong?" Stormwalker touched her arm. "Did I say something?"
She shook her head. "We need to talk."
Mike excused himself and shut the door behind him.
"Is it about last night," he asked.
"Why would you think that?"
"When you left I thought you might be having regrets, that last night was a disappointment to you, that I'd been too rough or too impatient. Or maybe you were angry because we didn't take any precautions."
"We didn't need them. I'm on the pill."
"There are other reasons to be careful, but just so you know, in
prison,
they tested us every six months."
"Then I'm safe and you're healthy. What a pair." Her attempt at humor fell flat.
"You're upset about something." He touched her cheek with the back of his hand "Is that why you left?"
She leaned into his touch although she'd promised herself to keep away. "I was afraid you would think last night was a mistake."
He took her in his arms for a kiss that echoed the passion and hunger they had shared. "Last night was perfect." He examined her face. "What else?"
"Do you remember the conversation in the parking lot between the man with the voice box and the other guy?"
He nodded.
"Tell me what they said."
"That trying to use sex would never work because you hate me too much." He grinned broadly. "Let's not tell them how wrong they are."
Zan laughed despite the hollow feeling in her chest. Her memories of love with Dar had died this morning and she was afraid to hope she had something to take its place.
"Not yet, anyway." Was she talking about his problem or hers? "What else?"
He thought for a moment. "That in
Vlad
they'd tried without success to get to me through a woman?"
"Exactly."
She took a folded sheet of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. "Take a look at this."
Stormwalker scanned the page. "This says I was involved with one of the female agents."
"That's from a report Dar filed. He lied."
"I'm sorry," he whispered against her hair.
"Why? This is good for you."
"I know, but you believed in him."
"Apparently, I'm not a very good judge of character."
"Don't be too hard on yourself. He had everyone fooled." He hooked his hands in his belt. "This does us no good. We can't prove what we heard."
"If he lied about this, then he lied about other things. We'll dig until we find something we can prove."
"I'd better let you get back to your work."
"One question," she said. "What kind of support was he supposed to give you?"
"Backup in case of
trouble,
and a way out if I couldn't make it on my own."
"And he knew what your mission was?"
"Yes."
"Why do you think he lied?"
"That's three questions. You're over the limit."
"Why do you think he lied?"
How much she could handle? How much would she believe? He decided to trust the bond forming between them.
"I think he lied because he was a double agent."
She caught her lush bottom lip between her teeth and a frown wrinkled her forehead. He knew she was fighting to stay in control of her feelings, but he needed to bring the truth out where she could see it and deal with it.
"Red, you have to know I wasn't the only one to think he'd turned, but when we set out to try and prove his guilt, the evidence got me deeper and deeper into the hole. When he was killed, the truth died with him."
"We'll bring it back to life," she said.
Now tears filled her eyes and Stormwalker silently cursed himself for having caused them. "If this is too difficult," he said, "I'll talk to Mac. We'll find some other way."
"No. I need to know if Dar was dirty and how I could have been so wrong about him."
She sighed and fought back another rush of threatening tears. He kissed her trembling mouth and watched as she left to return to the RV.
Hours later, Zan heard a knock on the door. She hit a key to save her work and shut down the PC. Stormwalker stepped inside.
"You've been at this all day, Red."
Funny how that name sounds more and more like a caress, she thought.
"It's time to take a breather," he said.
He was right, of course. She stood and they went outside. She rubbed the back of her neck and stretched to erase the tension caused by hours in front of the screen. He came up behind her and gently massaged her shoulders as she closed her eyes.
"Find anything?" he asked with his mouth near her ear and his breath soft and warm against her skin.
She leaned against him and welcomed the arms that slipped around her waist to hold her close. "I don't know. There are so many bits and pieces and they're all swirling around in my brain."
He turned her in his arms and looked at her. "You're tired. You stayed at it too long and your mind has rebelled." He saw the fatigue in the sag of her shoulders and a slightly out-of-focus look in her eyes. "I should have stopped you two hours ago."
She smiled wearily and shook her head. "Two hours ago, I wouldn't have let you pull me away."
"Will you come willingly now?" She nodded. "Let's see what Uncle Mike's plans are for supper. Maybe we'll all go to Maggie's and grab a bite."
They found Mike on the phone, arguing about circulation figures. They stood close together by the window and looked out at the scenery. Stormwalker had seen the view before, but sharing it with Zan gave it new meaning.
As he glanced from side to side, the glint of sunlight on a polished surface caught his eye. A form materialized in the grass about a hundred yards away. He grabbed her and pulled her to the far side of the big wooden desk, then hauled Mike out of his chair. He pushed them to the floor and followed.
A series of shots slammed against the glass. Expecting it to shatter, he covered them with his body and buried his face to protect his eyes. The window remained intact.
"Stay here," he ordered, and before her protest could start, squeezed Zan's shoulder. "I mean it."
She waited behind the desk, following only when Mike charged outside. She ran to Stormwalker.