Dark Summer

CHAPTER 13

BRIDGET ARRIVED AT SUNSET, AND Marrok walked down to the helicopter to meet her.

"Where is she?" Bridget asked as she jumped out of the aircraft.

"Down at the barn." His brows rose. "You act as if you thought I was keeping her tied up in the basement. Where did you think she was?"

"I have no idea. I don't know why you let her stay. She shouldn't be here."

"I'm aware of that, Bridget. I couldn't convince her to go."

Bridget was studying him. "And you're not sorry she's staying. What are you up to, Marrok?"

"The oldest game of all. You know what a self-indulgent bastard I am. Why not risk her neck if I can get a little plea sure out of the situation?"

"Don't give me that bull. I know you."

"Then you don't know me well enough." He turned to Walt, who was still in the helicopter. "Tell her, Walt. He's been with me a hell of a lot longer than you have."

"He's a real lowlife," Walt said. "Scum of the earth. Do you want me to stay here at the ranch or go back to the airport, scum of the earth?"

"Here," he said curtly as he turned back to Bridget. "You're welcome to try to talk her out of staying. But I'm done with it. Devon's so full of ivory-tower idealism, she thinks she can move the world single-handedly."

"So what? So do you." She strode toward the house. "Don't give me that crap about how cynical and wicked you are. You're no kid any longer. All that may have been true at one time, but I've seen you change just in the last three years. If you want to have sex with her, do it. But don't tell me it's because you're such a 'bad boy.'"

He chuckled. "But I am, you know."

"You have your moments. But you have other moments when I'd bet on you to be able to shift the earth to suit yourself." She turned to face him as they reached the porch. "If you're going to get Devon into bed, do it quick and send her to Sarah's. I don't know how much time she has."

His smile vanished. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I never know, dammit. I just feel. What the hell good is that?"

His hand closed on her arm. "Stop rambling. Tell me."

"It's… I'm not sure. Something's going to happen to her… around her. I don't know which. But it's bad."

"What the hell do you mean?" His hand tightened bruisingly. "You can't just leave it like this. What-"

She tore her arm away. "Let go of me. I told you all I know. Maybe I'm wrong."

"You're damn right you're wrong. Nothing is going to happen to Devon."

"Then ignore what I said," she said fiercely. "Only you won't do that. Because as often as you tell everyone how skeptical you were about Paco's powers, you believed in him. And you believe in my particular brand of weirdness, too." She turned toward the barn. "And that's the reason you're going to get Devon away from here, away from you."

"She won't listen to me, dammit. You try."

"That's what I intend to do," she said over her shoulder. "Just don't do anything that will stand in my way."

Bridget could see Devon standing at the fence looking at Casper. Okay, get your thoughts in order and be ready to talk sense to her. But people like Devon might be sensible and go into battle anyway. It was a dicey situation. Even if Marrok didn't interfere intentionally, his very presence might blow her efforts. She had observed him with women before. There was no one more erotic or magnetic than Marrok when he was aroused, and she had never seen him like this. He was sending off signals as strong and basic as a forest animal. Most women would be fascinated, drawn irresistibly toward the challenge.

She could only hope that Devon would be in the minority.

DEVON ABSENTLY RUBBED CASPER BETWEEN the ears as she watched Bridget walk toward her.

The woman was moving briskly, a hint of impatience in her stride. Devon had watched her walk from the helicopter with Marrok, and her stance had been even more tense while she was talking to him. It was clear she wasn't happy with him or the entire situation.

Well, neither was Devon.

Casper brayed and moved toward Bridget as she came nearer.

"I seem to be deserted," Devon said. "Marrok told me that you were a Pied Piper."

"Casper still cares about you. I'm just the new kid in town." Bridget said as she reached up and stroked the donkey. "And he's grateful you saved him from getting shot by that farmer."

"You do your research."

Bridget smiled. "Doubting Thomas. You remind me of Marrok. He calls it hocus-pocus but he doesn't scoff any longer. I had a hard time with him when I first met him. In his heart Marrok does believe in things that he can't hear, see, or touch. He won't admit it. He took too much punishment as a kid as an apprentice to Paco. The elders might have respected Paco but his peers, the children on the reservation, laughed at him."

"He seems to have survived just fine."

"No, the scars linger, and they've caused a hell of a lot of trouble. It's no wonder he became so volatile. A drug addict for a father, a mother who took off and left him when he was a baby."

"Did she divorce his father?"

"No, she died a few years after she left the reservation. It was a car accident, but she was drunk. It was just as well she deserted Marrok. From what I've been able to piece together, she was pretty erratic herself. Catrin Munoz was born in Spain and was traveling the world when she met Marrok's father in San Francisco. He'd just gotten out of the navy and probably had a good deal of the same sex appeal as Marrok. Catrin was experimenting with everything else, liquor, drugs, sex, and decided to include him in the package. He was just another fling to her."

"You know a lot about Marrok's background."

"Yes, you don't think I'd take any job without investigating what I was getting into."

Devon was silent a moment. "And you had Lincoln to help you research."

"You've been doing a little research yourself. Did Marrok tell you that?"

"Yes." She added, "I don't like Lincoln. I told Marrok that I found your connection… suspicious."

"Marrok finds it suspicious, too. But he still trusts me."

"I don't trust you. I don't know you."

"That's why I'm here. I have an idea we may need each other. If you trust me, it may make it easier."

"Marrok said you were upset I didn't go to Sarah's."

"That's putting it mildly."

"I couldn't leave. I have to-"

"Don't explain. I know why you want to stay. You want to save the world or at least this part of it. It's very commendable and very stupid. You're going to ruin everything."

"I'm not stupid and not a fanatic do-gooder. I have to do this." She smiled faintly. "You told me once you weren't good at being diplomatic. You're proving it right now."

"Oh, crap. How can I convince you that you should go to Sarah's until this is over?"

"You could tell me how I'd ruin everything. You can't do that. I'm intelligent, not overly impulsive. I've worked disaster sites for years, and I know karate and can handle a gun. I'm determined and per sis tent. I'd say I'm a damn valuable asset."

"And I'd say you could blow us out of the water." She frowned, trying to put it into words. "Look, I don't doubt that under ordinary circumstance you could be helpful. But sometimes there are certain people who become catalysts. Put them into the mix, and events change, people do what they ordinarily wouldn't do. You plan on their jumping one way, and they go another."

"Danner?"

"And Marrok. I could accept you tilting the odds in Danner's favor, but I can't risk you doing anything that might affect Marrok."

Devon frowned. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"No." She sighed. "I'm not getting to you." She hesitated, then said a rush, "Okay, what if I told you that you'd die if you jump into this?"

A chill went through Devon. "I'd say you were pretty desperate to stop me. Did you see this in your crystal ball?"

Bridget shook her head. "It doesn't work that way." She made a face. "And I didn't actually sense you'd die. Just that you were in danger of… something."

"I could be in danger of stubbing my toe." She shook her head. "Bridget, if you're trying to frighten someone, you shouldn't throw it out there, then start qualifying."

"I was trying to frighten you." She added simply, "Because I'm frightened, Devon."

And that grave simplicity scared Devon more than the words that had gone before. She moistened her lips. "I was in danger a hundred times on those search and rescue missions through the years. You can't stop because something might happen." She kept her voice cool and steady. "Particularly when the warning comes from someone who I don't know and has admitted that she just gets 'feelings.' You could be trying to influence me into doing what you want."

Bridget stared at her helplessly. "It's true, you know. I don't hit it every time, but this time I think…" She shook her head. "You won't do what I ask?"

"I won't go to Sarah's." She stared her in the eye. "What are you going to do about it?"

Bridget didn't speak for a moment. "I'm going to accept it and make the best of you." Her voice became brusque. "I don't want you near Marrok. Suppose you work with me."

"Why not? I think it's a good idea for me to be in a position to keep an eye on you." She paused. "As long as I'm doing something constructive, and you don't expect me to take orders."

"You'll have something to do that's constructive. You're a vet and good with dogs. Marrok tells me we may be bringing the other dogs here. It's risky, but if we-" She stopped, her gaze on the road where two headlights speared the darkness. "I think that's Lincoln. It's about time he showed up. Come on, let's go up and meet him."

"Why?"

"Because I need him to see me. We haven't been together in a long time. It's always good to do person-to-person reinforcement." She was already walking toward the house. "And I want to ask him where he's been."

"Will he answer?"

"Probably not. But if I ask it in the right way, he'll wonder if I already know."

Devon shook her head ruefully. The more she learned about Bridget, the more she felt she had to learn. This conversation had revealed her to be a combination of toughness and vulnerability. The toughness was undoubtedly real. The vulnerability could be feigned. There was no question she was clever enough to be playing both sides against the middle. Maybe she didn't want another player in the game if there was a greater chance of her being exposed.

And maybe she did believe that Devon was going to die. She had rushed to qualify, but that could have been a lie. What was the truth?

"I'll be fair with you." Bridget was studying her expression. "You're not going to have to be afraid of me. Unless you do something to hurt Marrok."

"I'm not afraid of you," Devon said. "And Marrok can take care of himself." She saw Marrok coming down the steps of the porch as a car pulled up before the house. "You were right, that's Lincoln behind the wheel." She said with mock wonder, "Gee, you must be psychic."

"And you must be a smart-ass," Bridget said. "It's nothing to joke about."

"I need to joke about it. You said the Grim Reaper was about to cut me down."

"That's not what I said. Well, maybe I did. But I told you I wasn't sure what-" Bridget grimaced. "And it didn't work anyway. I didn't do it right."

"You obviously don't exude the correct amount of menace. They didn't teach you well at MI6."

"They taught me well." She was watching Marrok turn on his heel and go back to the porch. "I believe Marrok is pissed off with our Mr. Lincoln. I'll have to take my turn at him." Her pace quickened as she left Devon and went toward Lincoln.

Devon had no desire to tag along behind Bridget. The woman had her own agenda, and Devon would end up standing around and observing. She had done enough of that for the past few days. She wanted to initiate, not witness.

And she didn't want to go up the steps to the porch, where Marrok was standing. He had turned and was watching her.

The porch lights shone on his dark hair and highlighted his high cheekbones, but his eyes and the hollows of his face were in shadow. His stance was straight, unmoving, almost wary.

Her own response was instinctive, her body tensing. She hadn't been away long enough, dammit. She was right back where she was when she had left him. Well, she couldn't stand here like a doe caught in the headlights.

She slowly climbed the steps. "Bridget said she thought you'd quarreled with Lincoln. Is he staying?"

"So he tells me. Unless I decide to toss him out." He paused. "Are you staying?"

"Yes." She tried to smile. "Though Bridget pulled out all the stops trying to convince me to go to Sarah's. Even a psychic premonition about my impending doom."

"That doesn't amuse me."

"Me, either." She gazed at Bridget and Lincoln talking beside the car. "Particularly since I believe she meant it."

"Then go back to Sarah's."

She shook her head.

Marrok muttered an oath as he took a step closer. "Stop being stubborn. You can't help. Leave here."

She could feel the warmth of his body though he wasn't touching her. Dear God, she was starting to shake. "I'm not going to repeat myself. Back off, Marrok."

He went still, his gaze on her face. "Verbally or physically?" he asked softly. "I'll shut up. I don't want to talk anyway."

He was close enough now that his eyes were out of shadow, and she could see the glitter, the dark softness. And his mouth…

She should move away from him. She could feel heat tingle through her, and her body was readying.

She didn't move.

"Come on," he murmured. "I'll find us a place. Though it will have to be fast. I'm about to-"

"No." What was she saying? Yes. Yes. Don't say that word, or she'd be lost.

She saw his hands clench into fists at his sides. "Why? You want it. Is it because I'm a half-breed?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "Don't be stupid. And insulting. Where did that come from?"

"Twenty years ago." His lips twisted. "It just tumbled out. I thought I'd gotten over it. You never know what poison lingers, do you?"

"No." She felt a surge of sympathy so strong it was like a tidal wave. How many scars did Marrok have from that ugly childhood? She wanted to reach out, touch him, comfort him. "You probably got the best of both worlds by being a half-breed. They say mutts are the smartest, most loyal dogs. It's probably the same thing."

"Oh." He looked startled, then smiled slowly. "Only you would make that comparison. I know you're trying to kiss and make it better, but calling me a mutt is a strange way to go about it."

"I guess it is." Something had changed, she realized. The sexuality had not ebbed away, but there was now a tenderness, a gentleness, a humor, that had insinuated itself into the whirlwind of eroticism. "But it's true."

"And you're defending me the way you're going to defend my dogs of summer. They're worth it. I'm not sure I am."

"If you expect me to say anything else to expand your ego, you're going to be disappointed."

"No, calling me a mutt is compliment enough." He shook his head. "But you've spoiled what might have been a promising start to seduction. You were close. If I'd pushed just a little harder…"

If he'd pushed harder, she would probably have been in his bed tonight, she thought. She was still hot and aching and empty.

"Me, too," he said softly and she knew he had read that unspoken response. "But I can't go on the attack now. I'd be wondering if you were still trying to heal my misspent youth."

Disappointment.

"Look at me." He was holding her eyes. "It's just the beginning. Once you think about it, you're going to run away. You'll change your mind. I just hope you change it back pretty damn quick. You may not be backing off because I'm a half-breed, but I'm still too wild for you. So I'll be ready to go crazy by the time we come together. But I can wait… if you can."

She couldn't look away from him. There was too much there, passion, humor, understanding. Emotions were swirling around her, around them.

LINCOLN GAVE A LOW WHISTLE, HIS gaze on something beyond Bridget's shoulder. "Well, what do you know…?"

Bridget looked over her shoulder.

No.

She stiffened and swung around to face Marrok and Devon. The electric tension between them was palpable. You could almost see it, smell it, warm your hands at the heat. They weren't touching, but they didn't need to touch. The bond was there, waiting only for the final melding. She had never seen Marrok and Devon together, and it came as a shock. It was too strong, too primitive, too earthy.

Lincoln was chuckling. "What do you bet he kicks his faithful Ned out of his room tonight?"

"Maybe." Didn't Lincoln see anything but the obvious? she wondered. If he didn't, she wasn't going to call his attention to what was coming through to her.

"Or maybe our savage won't wait to get her into bed. Bed may be too civilized for him."

Malice. Let Lincoln be as malicious as he wished. It might keep him focused on the sexual side of the scene before them. Because she was seeing something much more dangerous between Marrok and Devon, tentative, fragile, but more frightening than any sexual bond.

Shit.

"HELLO, MARROK." BRIDGET BOUNDED up the porch steps. "I guess Devon told you I struck out?"

Devon shook her head to clear it. The atmosphere had been so intense between Marrok and her that it was hard to be jarred out of it by the intrusion.

Marrok didn't look at Bridget. "I expected it. I'll handle it from now on."

"No, we've got it worked out," Bridget said. "She'll work with me. She thinks I need to be watched." She called to Lincoln, who was coming up the steps, "Your fault. She believes I'm your mole."

"Why would she think that?" Lincoln asked. "We're all friends, working together." He turned to Devon. "But I applaud the decision. You're safer with Bridget than Marrok. Though you'd be much better off going home and getting away from both of them." He shrugged. "And it would do no good to tell you that I'm your best bet of all." He moved toward the door. "So I think I'll go inside and make a few calls to London. Good night all."

Lincoln had the right idea, Devon thought wearily. Just walk away and avoid all this tension. "And I'm going to bed." She turned away. She was tired of the guarded interplay among all of them. She wanted her life clear and simple again.

She almost laughed at the thought. The moments before Bridget had run up the steps and interrupted them had been neither clear nor simple. It had been like being caught in a tropic windstorm, hot, dizzying, robbing her of breath, and bending her, leading her. She should be grateful that Bridget had broken the spell.

She wasn't grateful. She wanted it back. She wanted him back.

Crazy. All the more reason to get away from here and rebuild her defenses.

She opened the screen door. "Come to think of it, I have to call Nick. I'll see you in the morning."

She didn't wait for a reply but escaped into the house. Escape was the right word. She had been so calm and clear when she'd faced Marrok earlier. Even when she'd left him and gone down to the barn, she hadn't felt this ragged. It was those last moments that had been so hard. She'd had to fight both the desire to let him take her to bed and the intense sympathy that had made her want to hold him, soothe him, make everything all right in his world.

But she didn't even know how to cope with his world. He had grown up wild and undisciplined, and she had always had order in her life.

Forget it. Go to sleep. Wake up to a fresh morning with fresh perspectives. Nothing had happened that had changed anything.

She just had to keep it that way.

"IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK, Bridget," Marrok said quietly.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Devon. Why are you set on keeping her away from me? What difference does it make to you?"

She didn't try to pretend she didn't know what he meant. "She could be an Achilles' heel. If anything happens to her, I don't want her near you."

His brows rose. "It's really none of your business."

"It's my business to take care of the dogs," she said. "Anything that affects my ability to do that will have to be addressed." She started down the steps. "I thought it would be okay if you screwed her. It would be over, then we could go on. But it's not going to be okay. It's not going to be over…" She looked back over her shoulder. "It might get worse. So I'll try to keep you apart as long as I can."

"Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" he asked sarcastically.

"Hell, yes." She strode away from him toward the bunkhouse. Ridiculous as trying to stop a raging forest fire with a garden hose. Marrok wouldn't let her get in his way for long. She couldn't blame him. She'd bitterly resent interference in her affairs if the situation were reversed.

But something had to be done. She had to have help. God, she hated admitting to anyone that she couldn't handle the job.

Bite the bullet.

She reached for her phone and dialed London. It rang three times before Jordan Radkin answered. "It's the middle of the night here, Bridget. It had better be important."

"Dammit, do you think I like calling you?" She drew a deep breath. "Something's changed. It could get out of control. We may have to bring Danner in sooner."