Wolfsbane (10 page)

He felt the urge to go after her, to … to what, he didn’t know, but he was on his feet before he knew it.

A hand caught his, snapping his gaze to his sister.

“Be careful, Canyon. She’s wounded and Range … he’s never shown interest like this.”

In other words, don’t. Leave her to Range. The right thing to do. He remembered the pact he had with his brothers since high school.

“No Metcalfe steps in on another.” His response silenced her and gave him the out he needed. But his own words clung to his conscience as he headed into the house. As the families mingled tonight, he’d have to remain distanced, aloof. Nonchalant.

A few hours into the shindig, her father left on an urgent call, and that’s when Canyon really noticed Roark’s countenance shift for the better.
Not exactly a cozy father-daughter relationship, huh?

Filling a glass with water, he heard a noise in the hall. He shut off the tap and went to check it out. As he rounded the corner, he heard grunting.

“Stupid thing!” Roark jiggled the door handle, bending down and peering at it closer.

Canyon grinned, admiring the view. “It sticks.”

She jerked straight and spun toward him, her long, dark hair whipping across her face. “What?”

“It sticks.” He eased down the hall, closing the gap between them. “Here.” He reached around her, noticing the way she kept her smooth brown eyes locked on him. Noticing how she didn’t pull away … not completely. Enough to be nervous and demure, but not enough to say she wasn’t interested. Within inches of her, he held her gaze, his eyes tracing the soft curves of her jaw and cheek. Those full lips.

Step off, Metcalfe, or you’ll crash and burn
.

CHAPTER 5

G
eneral Lambert?”

Amid shadows cast by the fluorescent lights in the Capitol Hill employee parking garage, Olin paused before stuffing the key in his car. Several shiny black cars separated him from Senator Sarah Miller, one of those on the panel investigating Danielle. Though his pulse hiccuped, he forced himself to remain calm.

“Evening, Senator Miller. Shouldn’t you be at home with your family for a Paddy’s Day celebration?”

“Shouldn’t we all?” After a furtive glance around the garage, she navigated around an SUV, her heels clicking on the cement. “You’re not usually on this side of the Potomac, General.” Attractive, the middle-aged woman smiled up at him. Her gray wool business suit accented the gray eyes peeking up at him from a wisp of brown feathered bangs.

“Late meeting with the Armed Services Committee.”

“Ah.” Again she looked around, chewing her bottom lip. She seemed like she wanted to talk to him or tell him something.

“Can I help you, Senator Miller?”

She ducked her head. “I—I, uh, shouldn’t be talking to you about this, but …”

This time, Olin scanned their surroundings. “Go on.”

She wet her lips. “I’ll be honest, General, since my voice isn’t being heard anyway—things don’t look good for Danielle.”

“Why?”

The male voice, strong and perturbed, jerked them both around. There, Senator Michael Roark stood with his briefcase. “Why doesn’t it look good for Danielle?”

Senator Miller darted a glance to Olin, as if saying she’d hoped to
talk to him privately, but they were both caught in the act here. “Despite my efforts to persuade the panel that she isn’t acting, that her injuries were real, and the information she delivered could be credible, they won’t listen. They’re intent on their course of action.” She blew out a breath through puffed cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’ve done everything I can. I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Wait—they don’t believe her injuries were real?” Olin heard his voice pitch and didn’t care. “They were catalogued by two different doctors in two different locations, not to mention the Coasties’ reports. You can’t fake that.”

Her shoulders lifted a little. “I’m sorry. That’s what I tried to tell them. But Billings didn’t agree.” She shoved her fingers into her hair and groaned. “They’ll kill me for telling you all this before the findings are released, but you need to prepare Danielle.”

“Prepare her for what?” Michael’s face darkened.

“Billings and his minions—I still can’t believe the power that man exerts when
I’m
the lead on this. Anyway, they’re determined that she was and/or is spying for Bruzon. That the injuries were inflicted to help her return without suspicion. They think Bruzon is just dangling this WMD technology in our face, trying to make a spectacle of us similar to Iraq—and Lord knows nobody is willing to go through that again—or force us to respond, thus stirring up an international incident.”

“Those sons of—” Olin bit down on the curse. “This is asinine!”

“Are they out of their minds?” Michael shouted.

“Listen.” Miller leaned in and lowered her voice. “The schematics of that underground facility do not match the footprint of any known building where she says they held her captive. We’ve questioned experts and they agree.” She let out another hefty breath. “They sent a team to your home, Michael. They found information on Danielle’s computer, logs and e-mails dating back fifteen months. E-mails between her and Bruzon. Images of her with him at his island estate.”

“Pictures can be doctored, and everyone knows it’s possible to remotely access and control a computer.” Olin grunted. “That means nothing.”

“It means a lot to the CID and JAG. They’re back there tossing around one charge after another, General.”

“Anyone with a brain can see she’s haunted, she’s skittish—”

“And they say all that is an act.”

When both he and Roark spoke at the same time, Miller held up her hand. “Gentlemen, you don’t have to convince me. I know she’s not
faking. I believe her. And I believe someone has set her up. But I’m the minority and I’m being overruled. They—” She swallowed and looked away.

Olin felt a cold finger trace his spine at the expression on the senator’s face. “What? Tell us, Sarah. Help us save Danielle.”

Brushing wispy bangs from her face, she sighed. “
Unofficially
, they want to charge her with one count of treason, one count espionage, and three counts rendering aide to the enemy.” Her eyes seemed like pools of ebony, shadowed by grief. “If they do that, then they can pursue the death penalty.”

“Death—!”

“It only shows the reckless desperation of the lawyers,” Senator Miller said. “But they
can
do it. And apparently, they’re going to try—with Billings’s blessing.”

Olin clamped his mouth shut, breathing hard through his nose. “What can we do? This is a massive train wreck. Can we stop it?”

“Unless the proof of that underground facility can be obtained”—her gray eyes bounced between them—“then, no. I’m sorry.”

“What if we got that proof?” Michael said.

“How?” Miller tossed up her hands. “I personally recruited every expert I could to locate that WMD facility, the entrance—they spent two months trying, and they found
nothing!
How are you going to find it?”

“Danielle.”

Stunned, Olin glanced at Michael Roark. Heat rose through his belly, seeping into his chest, then his throat. “
What
are you suggesting?”

“Send her back down there—”

“No!” Though he tried to tame the explosive fury roiling through his body, Olin couldn’t. “Michael—stop. You’ve seen her, seen what this did to her. How can you even think of sending her back down there? She’s your daughter, for pity’s sake.”

“That’s right.” Michael’s eyes sparked with challenge. “She’s
my
daughter, and I know her. Know what she’s made of.” He glowered at Olin. “Was she affected by what happened? Of course. Can she assist a black-ops team to point out the entrance, get the proof needed to clear her name—especially in light of the death penalty? Yes.
Would
she be willing to? I believe so.” He jabbed a finger at Olin. “You said it yourself, she’ll never survive in a federal pen—or if she faces the death penalty!”

Realization dawned over Olin and smelled like a walk through the dumps. “Yes, you really don’t want her found guilty—”

“Of course, I don’t!”

“Because then your run for the White House would be shattered.”

“How dare you!”

Olin skewered the man with his gaze. “
Don’t
pretend your concern is for Danielle. This is about your career!”

“Yes,” Michael said in a low growl. “My career will be impacted if she’s found guilty. But I believe Danielle is strong enough and that she would
want
to clear her name.”

“You can’t do this to her. Stop thinking about yourself and think about her for once.” Olin shook his head as he looked at Miller. “This will devastate her. I won’t allow it.” There had to be another way.

“Ignore him. He doesn’t have any say in this.” Michael turned to the senator. “I’ll talk to her. If she agrees, will you stay the ruling?”

Senator Miller hesitated. “I—I don’t know. We’d have to present it to Billings. I—”

“Let’s do it.” Michael hooked her arm and dragged her back toward door that led into the building.

Something thick and rank sliced through the air—the smell of this deal with Michael Roark.
“He doesn’t have any say in this.”

Very well. If he wanted to cut Olin out of it, he’d preempt this selfish, insane plan. Olin lifted his phone and dialed.

Metcalfe Residence

No Metcalfe steps in on another
.

With a flick of his wrist, Canyon opened the door for Roark. Took a step back. “There.”

A furtive smile chased her into the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut, then locked, Canyon blew out a breath and roughed a hand over the back of his neck. Range would kill him if he’d seen that moment he’d just shared with Roark. But Canyon couldn’t deny the magnetic field that surrounded that woman and drew him in like scrap metal.

Over the next few hours, he kept to himself. Stuffed himself in a recliner and watched the silenced game. But being the Special Forces soldier that he was, he also kept tabs on Roark. Especially how she seemed to tolerate Range’s attention but didn’t encourage it. Or was that his imagination?

Range had gotten there first, so as far as Canyon was concerned, Danielle Roark was off the map.

A boom of laughter severed his thoughts. Canyon glanced over his
shoulder and found his mother and Abigail Roark laughing as they stood by the spread of desserts. But then, just as fast, his mother’s face paled. Her face went slack.

Canyon launched out of the seat and darted to her side. “Mom?”

She smiled bravely as she tried to maintain her composure. “Such a nice evening.”

Only one other time in his life had he seen her try to save face like this. She needed out, and fast! “Can I talk to you?” he asked, shifting so that he shielded her from Mrs. Roark’s gaze.

“Well,” she said, her voice weak, “if you think it’s important—”

“I do.” And with that, he led her from the kitchen and down the hall. She pressed into him more with each step. By the time they reached the hall to her room, she crumbled.

He lifted her into his arms and rushed into the bedroom where he laid her over the thick blue comforter. He stuffed two pillows under her legs. “How’re you doing, Mom?”

“Better now,” she mumbled, her words thick. “Water …”

From her nightstand he grabbed the glass and aimed the straw toward her lips. “You overdid it.”

With a soft snort she set down the glass. “I gave birth—”

“To five screaming babies.” He finished her infamous rant as he pressed two fingers against her carotid artery to monitor her pulse.

A weak smile trembled over her lips. “And one silent tormentor.”

Him. She’d always said he’d never cried until he was two.

Her pulse thumped steadily, enabling him to take a decent breath. With the back of his hand, he checked her temperature. Warm. “You shouldn’t have invited them. It was too soon after the surgery—and why weren’t you wearing the brace?”

“Oh, stop worrying. Range wanted to have them over. I thought it was nice.” She sighed. “I think he likes Danielle.” Her head rolled toward him. “Such a pretty name for a beautiful girl. I like her.”