Wolfsbane (21 page)

He rubbed his thumb over the ribs of the socks, feeling the pattern that mirrored the dissonance in his own life. He could feel it, feel his entire life slipping right through his fingers. He couldn’t let this happen. It’d happened before. All this. A mission. A girl. His feelings. Death.

Punching to his feet, he sought to avoid the squall of memories. Fingers threaded behind his head, he paced the length of the shower well. Had to get it together. Get it together or the past would repeat itself.
Mind in the game
.

He stalked toward the lockers.

She’s just a girl
.

Back to the showers.

Doesn’t mean anything
.

He jerked around, rammed his fist into a locker. Grabbed the side of the locker and held it, willing his fingers to dig through the metal.

“Let’s go.”

Canyon spun, surprised to find brooding Max standing by the side door. If Canyon had expected an explanation, he wouldn’t get one. Max stormed back out without another word.

Pulling his wits from the frayed ends of his nerves, Canyon grabbed his pack and followed. Down the hall, lights tinkling overhead. Dressed in the same black duds, Max blended into the shadows at the far end of the dimly lit corridor. Hand on a knob to an office, Max waited.

Canyon slowed. “What?”

With a nod to the room, Max opened the door.

Inside, Canyon looked around.

Bam!

He jerked at the slamming door just as his gaze connected with Roark’s.
Crap
. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Violated his self-imposed restrictions.

She started toward him but stopped.

Had to get out of here. Now. Before it was too late. He shifted back to the door, but a shadow from the other side danced across the frosted pane. Max. Self-appointed guardian of the team. Dropping the bag on the cement floor, Canyon sighed.

She’d turned to the window, her profile strong against the dull gray walls. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Can’t tell you about the team. But me being here doesn’t matter.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Do you believe that? Does being here mean so little to you?” The hurt in her question lodged itself against his conscience. She shoved her arm out and yanked up her sleeve. “Does
this
help you remember how I feel about this mission?” Two steps closer. “Do you not remember how this terrifies me, especially knowing it’s not just my life on the line but my father’s career?” Another step and she flung her arms out to the side. “And you’re going to tell me your being here doesn’t matter? The only man who knows
everything—
”

“On this mission, I am a member of the team, nothing more.”

She blinked those large caramel-colored eyes, awash with unshed tears. Roark drew back and straightened. Did she shake her head? He couldn’t quite tell. Moving back, this time she definitely shook her head. “Then forget it.” Facing the window again, she wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll take my chances in prison. Or with the lethal injection.”

He might’ve distanced himself, might’ve walled off his heart and feelings for her, but he wouldn’t let her give up like this. “Roark, listen …” He checked the door. The shadow shifted. Canyon returned his focus to her. Stepped closer. “I … you can trust these guys.”

Her chest and shoulders contracted. “No. Sorry. Did that a year ago and it didn’t turn out so well.”

Within reach, he paused, remembering the first time he’d seen her at the courthouse—wraith-thin, gaunt … His gaze traveled over the length of her body. Curves had rounded out. Shape accentuated with a pair of black jeans and a dark red top. She’d filled out. Flourished. Mentally, he hauled his thoughts back into line.

“Then trust me.” What’re you doing, Midas?

Wary, glossy eyes came to his.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Man, he needed an O
₂
line. Couldn’t breathe. This was stupidity defined—to the nth degree.

She turned. A tear streaked down her pink cheek. Slid over her full lips. Jarring, the memory of kissing her barreled into him. He’d never forget it. The one glimpse of paradise, the one second that pulled back the dark night that had shielded his life from happiness.

Roark swung her head back and forth in denial, painful denial. “You can’t promise that. Nobody can.”

“I can.” Somehow, he’d moved forward another step. Someone had taken control of his body because it sure wasn’t listening to him, to his willful determination to put distance between them. See? There went his hands, holding her shoulders. “And I do.” His voice thickened.

“Who’s doing this to me? Why would anyone want
me
locked away or killed? It’s got to be Bruzon.” Her gaze darted over his chest, as if connecting dots. “He was so obsessed with me, maybe he wants revenge.” She sucked in a breath—hard. “I’m terrified, Canyon.” Her forehead dropped against his shoulder. “I trust you, but I know how things can get screwed up. If I get caught again, I’ll kill myself rather than be taken.”

“Don’t.” Canyon gripped her shoulders and pulled her straight. “Don’t say that again.” He crouched to look into her eyes. “I mean it.
Not ever. You hear me?”

She nodded.

“If you only know one thing, know this—whatever happens down there, I’m
not
coming back without you.”

DAY TWO

W
ar had become as breath to our people. Thanks to Bayani and his outsiders we were fighting, no longer fearful the way we once were. Still, the choking smoke and the crackling fire pushed tears down my face. Chesa trembled in my arms as I held her and her sister close
.

Through slits in the hut, I saw the men fight. Higanti warriors killed ruthlessly. Our warriors fought with honor, died with honor
.

As we sat alone in the darkness, I wondered at Bayani. We were not his people. We were not bound by blood or oath to defend him. Yet he and his outsiders fought for us, taught us how to live. He had taken my Chesa and honored her, protected her. He had spoken in recent days of more of his outsiders coming, to help and to learn. It scared me—would the Higanti, if they did not kill Bayani tonight, return to kill him later? Would his outsiders draw the breath of evil upon our people?

Only as I pondered these things, did I realize that Chesa had left my side. Now she hung near the door
.

“Chesa! Come away from there.”

“I don’t see him, Mama. Where is Bayani?”

“It matters not.” What if he had been killed? “Come—”

She screamed
.

A warrior towered over her, his blue-streaked face a mask of terror
.

Chesa screamed and thrashed against him
.

My heart climbed into my throat. I could not move as he dragged her from our home. It was our way—to cower and hide. Not to fight. Not to invite death to our door. But as he hauled her out into the gathering middle, I saw the fight had stilled
.

“Let her go!” Bayani shouted at the warrior
.

“She is my daughter,” Awa shouted. “If you harm her, it will mean war.”

The warrior turned, Chesa wrapped against his chest as he came around. “Who leads these Christians?”

With a shout, Bayani came forward. He dropped his gun and lifted his hands. “I do. Let the girl go.” Why did he not tell the warrior Chesa belonged to him? In our village that would warrant death, touching or harming another’s woman
.

“Get back, Corazine!”

The command startled me. When had I left the hut? As I turned to go back, I saw Bayani approach the warrior and drop to his knees
.

I gasped and clamped a hand over my mouth
.

“Release her,” Bayani said. “It’s me you want.”

When the warrior shoved Chesa away, he gloated. Like he’d won
.

But this bloodthirsty man did not know Bayani
.

As quick as lightning, Bayani whipped a knife from under his shirt and plunged it into the warrior’s belly
.

CHAPTER 12

A
rms crossed over her chest, Danielle dropped the half dozen feet from the skid of the helicopter. Tall grass swayed, as if waving and inviting her into its silky arms. Warm, sticky air enveloped her as she plummeted to the earth. She landed, feet together, knees slightly bent, and rolled to the side then onto her back. Her pack arched her back off the ground. She moved to squat with one knee, squinting through the darkness to the black shapes drifting across her field of vision.

A tree there. Another to her left. Where had the guys gone? The black night shrouded everything in its oppressive cloak.

Something clapped against her shoulder. Dani jerked away and turned. Dark eyes pierced her with a glare. His finger pressed against his lips as Legend bent toward her. At least, she thought it was Legend. The paint scrawled over his face camouflaged his features well. However, it would take a lot more than camo or a ghillie suit to hide the man’s gargantuan size. Even kneeling, he towered over her.

The thunderous roar of the helo dissipated with the whipping wind. Slowly her ears cleared and a whistle sailed through the air. Had they been seen already? Her heart skipped a beat as she probed the darkness for guerillas or the VFA.

Where had Canyon landed? She looked over the field, knowing full well she’d probably never spot him. Or any of the guys. They’d been trained for this stuff. Fed off it. Now where was he?

A long, sonorous response sounded from Legend. A countersign. He patted her shoulder—a weight that nearly shoved her face-first into the dirt. Scrambling to stay upright, she saw his shadowy form hustle away … fading … fading … gone.

Panic pushed her in the direction he’d gone.
Don’t leave me
. Grass
and vines clung to her legs, as if the jungle had come alive and worked to take her captive again. She plunged through the waist-high blades. It all felt familiar. Eerily, hauntingly familiar. She’d been here before. In this very jungle.

Perfect peace … the mind … the man … mind … Ugh!
How did that verse go? She’d heard it in church when she’d gone with a friend a couple of years ago. She hadn’t darkened the door of a church since her mother’s death. Though she groped for a tendril of hope, it evaded her.

Blind in the moonless night, she pushed ahead. A vine slapped her cheek. The sting was nothing compared to the wild rhythm thundering in her chest.

When she found Canyon, she would give him a piece of her mind. How could he abandon her so quickly after making the promise that turned him into her knight in shining armor? Everything about him spoke to her. His quiet strength. The unflappable belief in her mettle. The commitment to see this thing through with her to the end. It was probably naive to even go there, but was she in love with him? It couldn’t happen that fast, could it?

Ahead, she spotted Legend. They rushed into a small huddle of trees. Nearly colliding into the wall of muscle, she spun around him and stopped. Adrenaline stabbed her. What made him stop? What happened?

Directly in front of her, three shapes solidified out of the hazy night. Two directly in front, another to the right—no, wait. Three more. In a semicircle knelt the Nightshade team. All the men save Canyon. What happened to him? Had he …?

A breeze swirled from the side.

She glanced right and found Canyon easing up beside her. Where had he come from? Was he behind her the whole time? He knelt, eyes on his team leader.

“As discussed, we head northeast eight klicks,” Frogman said in a controlled whisper. “Tight and fast. At the village, we retrieve vehicles. Take them to the pass. Ten hours into the heart of the beast.”

The pass. Her stomach squirmed. The pass had a bridge. A bridge she’d been sent to blow twelve months ago. Where the guerillas had captured her team. A complete mission failure that scarred her physically and emotionally.