Deadlock

SIX

"COME ON." IRANA STRODE across the tiny patio, reached out, and pulled Emily out of the deck chair and onto her feet. "You look en¬tirely too lazy. We're going for a walk on the beach. I need exercise, and I want company."

"You say that every day." Emily smiled as she fell into step with Irana as they walked out onto the sand. "Poor Irana. All these people on the island who love you, and you have to depend on me for company? I don't think so."

"I don't see why not." Irana grinned. "I'd have to make conversation with anyone else. You don't talk that much." She made a face. "But I may have to find someone else soon. You're almost back to normal. Of course, I don't know what normal is for you. All I know is the Emily you are now."

"I'm not sure I know who I am right now either." She gazed out at the sun-baked beach. It was amazing how she had become accustomed to life on this island in the last ten days. She had lived only in the mo¬ment, and Irana had been the center of those moments. Walks on the beach, mornings when she'd helped out at Irana's infirmary, evenings when Irana had occasionally dropped in and had her dinner with Emily. "But I know I'm grateful to you, Irana."

"Why? I've done nothing."

"That's it. You've done nothing. You don't ask me questions; you let me take, without giving." She paused. "And you haven't preached at me."

"I don't have the right. I don't know what you went through in those mountains. I can only do the best I can to live my life according to the Golden Rule and try not to hurt anyone else. I let God handle everything." She picked up a seashell. "Isn't this pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"And if God can make something this beautiful, I imagine he can heal what Satan broke. He doesn't need me." She smiled at Emily. "He's already started. Every time you look out at that surf, don't you feel just a little better? Every time the tide goes out, doesn't it take a tiny bit of the pain with it?"

"Perhaps." She gazed down at the seashell in Irana's hand. "God or nature?"

"God is nature."

"Well, God or nature or Irana. I'm grateful to all of you," Emily said. "I'll be sorry to leave this island."

"For the first few days. Then you'll be caught up in the real world. That's where you belong."

"I'm not so sure. It can be very cruel in the real world."

"Yes, but your instincts are to go to battle against that cruelty; you're one of the soldiers."

Emily's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Soldiers?"

"We all have our roles in life. Haven't you battled your entire ca¬reer to keep beauty and history alive?"

She nodded slowly. "But I never thought of myself as a soldier. Is Garrett a soldier?"

"Oh, yes. Without doubt. The quintessential soldier. And he knows it. He's not like you. He doesn't have one sole focus. He's been fight¬ing all his life in one way or the other. That's why he decided to go after you. He couldn't resist. You were just one more battle he had to win."

"All his life?"

"Most of it anyway. From what I could gather from Dardon and bits Garrett has dropped. His father was a drunkard and a criminal who moved from country to country from the time Garrett was born. He evidently paid no attention to Garrett, who had to scramble just to eat. He was a street kid, and it's amazing that he managed to survive. But he did survive and managed to acquire an amazing if unconven¬tional education along the way. He knows a little bit about practically everything. Do you know he speaks nine languages? The longest time he was allowed to settle anywhere were the years he spent in Afghani¬stan. His father ran guns there and sold weapons to the rebels. He was killed two years after he arrived in the mountains, but Garrett stayed on with friends he'd made there."

Emily remembered the man who had appeared out of the dark¬ness as they had left Shafir Ali's camp. "I think I must have met one of them. He helped Garrett get me out."

"Karif? Garrett told me about him. They're good friends. Proba¬bly as close as Garrett has ever been to anyone. He stayed in Afghani¬stan when Garrett took off to make his fortune. But Garrett goes back to visit him every now and then." She shrugged. "Evidently he and Garrett are a lot alike."

"Another soldier?"

She nodded. "Everyone is a soldier in Afghanistan. It goes with the territory. If not by nature, by necessity."

"And what is your nature? Are you a soldier, too, Irana?"

Irana shook her head. "I'm a caretaker. I heal the wounds. I hold and treasure what you soldiers win." She chuckled. "Which means I can stay here on my island and let you all come back to me. Much pleasanter."

"But not necessarily easier. I've never seen anyone work as hard as you.

"Work is good for the soul. And it keeps me out of trouble." "Trouble? You?"

"I'm essentially lazy by nature. I just have to overcome." Irana pointed to the lighthouse a mile down the beach. "I'll race you. Who¬ever gets there first has to cook lunch."

"You always win."

"Of course, why else would I want to do it? You don't even have the excuse of that wound in your leg any longer. It's almost healed." She took off. "Did I tell you I ran track in college?"

Emily was on her heels. "I played soccer. But you're not as young as I am. I'll find a way to-"

"You see?" Irana was laughing. "Instinct. You're going into battle mode. It was only a matter of time." She streaked ahead. "Only a mat¬ter of time…"

"I HOPE YOU'RE READY," Irana told Garrett when he picked up the phone that night. "Because Emily is very close."

"I was expecting to hear from you a lot sooner." Garrett said. "You held her off amazingly well. I'm grateful."

"Don't be grateful. I like her. I'll miss her." She paused. "Take care of her. I know you won't be able to stop Emily from doing anything she wants to do, but you can protect her. Do it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"T '~ "

I mean it.

"I know you do. But I may not have as much control of the situa¬tion as you might think. You've seen her weak and malleable. That's not the Emily I brought out of the mountains. She was tough, very tough. Once she's back on her feet, she'll be a force to reckon with."

"She's back on her feet." Irana laughed. "In fact, she beat me in a race to the lighthouse today. I was proud of her."

Garrett knew what she meant. He had felt the same way on that trek through the mountains. Protective, admiring, and oddly proud. "Then I'll just have to wait for her to make the next move."

"You won't have to wait long." "How long?"

"Maybe a day or two at most. I've been expecting her to make a move at any time. Be ready." Irana hung up.

I'm ready, Garrett thought as he pressed the disconnect. He had been edgy and restless for the last week. It had annoyed the hell out of him to have to step back and let Irana handle Emily's rehabilitation. It was the smart thing to do, but he had felt possessive of Emily since the moment he had taken her out of that tent. Maybe before. Perhaps since the day he had first seen her photo in the paper.

"Irana is turning her loose?" Dardon asked.

Garrett shrugged. "She has no choice. Emily will do what she wants to do. But it would help if I could find out something to give Emily when she decides she's had enough of Mykala."

"Was that a gentle nudge?" Dardon asked. "I've tapped practically everyone I can. It's nuts that I can't find a record on Staunton. I'm trying local police records now in Sydney, Australia, and I may be on the right track. She did say Staunton was Australian. Right?"

"Right."

"I found a Robert Hurker, who once used the Staunton pseudo¬nym in Sydney. I'm following up on it." "And what about this Zelov's hammer?"

"Now I may really have something there. Not the hammer, but Zelov." He chuckled. "Or I may not. It's pretty weird." "What's weird?"

"Let me work on it." He got to his feet. "As a matter of fact, I should have some info being faxed tonight. I'll go to the office and check."

"You don't have to work all night, Dardon."

"Yes, I do. You want to know." He added soberly, "And I owe you big-time for saving my ass with Ferguson. I know you don't want me talking about it, but I won't forget."

Garrett turned back to the window as Dardon left. The moonlight was silvering the sands beside the cottage where Emily was staying. There was lamplight shining from a window in the front of the house. She was awake. Another nightmare?

One or two days, and he'd be beside her to help deal with them. One or two days, and the waiting would be over.

That wasn't good enough, dammit.

He wheeled away from the window and strode toward the door.

TAKE DEEP BREATHS, EMILY TOLD herself.

She was still in a cold sweat. She ran a damp cloth over her face and poured herself a glass of water. She took a sip, and her hand tight¬ened on the water glass to keep it from shaking.

She shouldn't let Staunton do this to her. She had thought she was getting stronger. She hadn't had a nightmare for three nights.

She was getting stronger. It would just take time. She just had to hold on and keep herself from-

A knock at the door.

Irana? Probably. It was strange how Irana seemed to sense when she needed her.

"I'm fine, Irana," she said as she threw open the door. "Though how you-" Garrett.

"You don't look fine." Garrett was scowling. "You're shaking, and you look like you've been in a steam bath. Irana's nuts if she thinks you're getting better."

She stiffened. "I am better. I'm having a few problems tonight, but I'm dealing with them. So go away and leave me alone."

He didn't move. "I know that's what I should do. I should never have come down here."

"Then why did you do it?"

"I saw your light." He stood looking at her. "Come on. Let's walk on the beach."

"I'm going to try to go back to sleep."

"The fresh air will do you good." He took the glass she was still grasping in her hand and set it on the chest by the door. He glanced at the oversized tee shirt she wore. "It's not chilly. You won't have to bother getting dressed."

She hesitated. "What do you really want? Why are you here?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because I'm feeling this weird sense of possessiveness about you, and it irritates the hell out of me to have to step back and leave everything to Irana. Maybe because I've never been a patient man, and I've been strained to the limit waiting around for you."

"What are you talking about? You're the one who brought me here."

"So I'm unreasonable." He took a step back. "Will you come?"

She stood looking at him. She could see that restless volatility. He'd always been so assured, so completely certain of his actions, that this change in him disturbed her. But she would rather wrestle with Garrett's complexities than stay here alone to battle memories.

"Yes." She didn't look at him as she went past him onto the beach. "Has Dardon found out anything about Staunton?"

"Not yet. The only thing I know about are the rumors Karif told me when he led me to the camp. A foreigner with big-time funds." He paused. "Almost unlimited funds. Was that your impression?"

"/ can do anything I want to do. There's no one I can't buy."

Breathe deep. Don't remember anything but the words them¬selves. Don't remember what he'd been doing to Joel when he'd said those words. "Yes," she said haltingly. "He said that no one would ever be able to catch him. If you have enough-"

"Stop it." He broke in roughly. He sank to the sand and pulled her down beside him. "Rest. Go blank. All I needed was a yes or no. I didn't bring you out here to traumatize you so that you go back and have more nightmares. Irana said you were already having more than your share."

"She told you about them? Yes, of course she would. I'm sure you've had lengthy discussions about me."

"Not lengthy. And Irana would tell you every word if you asked her. She'd regard anything else as a personal betrayal."

"I believe you. She's very honest. I like her very much."

"So do I. She's been a good friend to me."

"And you to her. That hospital must have been hugely expensive."

"It only cost me money. She saved my neck. I regarded it as pay¬back. I'd say that I came out way ahead."

"You said she treated you for bullet wounds?"

He nodded. "She found me on the beach near St. Cecelia's, the hospital where she was doing her internship at the time. She wanted to take me to the hospital, but I told her that she'd be signing my death warrant. It was the truth. Banaro was right behind me, and I'd have been a sitting duck if I had let her take me up there and sedate me."

"Banaro?"

"Luis Banaro. You might call him a competitor. I'd trespassed into his territory and acquired a statue that he regarded as his property. He wanted to set an example."

"A smuggler?"

"Among other things."

"And she didn't take you to the hospital?"

"No, she took me to a cottage owned by her friend and treated me herself. Then she went back to the hospital and spoke to the Mother Superior. She told her everything. She was ordered to bring me to the hospital and report the gunshot wounds to the police." His lips twisted. "Which was the honorable and proper thing to do. But it would have meant that I'd have been dead meat. Irana refused and left the order."

"Because of you?"

"I was the catalyst. Irana swears that she'd been searching her soul for answers for years."

"You don't believe her?"

"Sometimes." He made a face. "I guess I just don't like being a cat¬alyst."

"I don't think she'd lie to you. And she's happy here." "Yes. It would be hard not to be happy here. That's why I brought you to the island."

"Because it's beautiful?"

"And because when you're choking on ugliness, you need to strike a balance."

"Does it strike a balance with you?"

"Most of the time. I thought it was worth a shot." He gazed out at the water. "We'll get started searching for Staunton soon. I know you've probably been thinking about it."

"Yes, I have."

"One more day. I have some preparations I have to make with Dardon and Irana."

She looked at him in surprise. "That's not what I expected you to say when you came to the front door growling at me."

"I didn't expect you to look like that. Irana was full of optimism, and the picture she painted wasn't the woman who met me at the door. I didn't like it. I wanted you totally normal."

"Do you think I don't? That's not realistic. I thought I could bounce back, but it's not happening. I'm taking one step at a time." She gazed directly into his eyes. "And I'm done with your pampering, Gar¬rett. I'm not going to fall apart and get us both killed. I'll take whatever I have to take."

"One more day," he repeated. He stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "I'll talk to Irana tomorrow morning. Okay?"

He didn't release her hand and his grasp was warm and strong. It made her feel safe.

No, not really safe.

Strike a balance he had said. Ugliness and beauty. The feeling of be¬ing surrounded by his strength balanced against the tingling awareness of danger she always felt when she was with him. Even now, as she gazed up at him, she was conscious of the dark glitter of his eyes, the slight tension of his body.

And the heat. The same heat that had warmed her, healed her when he'd pressed his naked body to her own that night in the helicopter.

Only it wasn't the same, it was more intense, more…

She pulled her hand away and stepped back. "Okay. Not that it would do me any good to object, would it? You do what you like."

"If I did what I liked, you wouldn't be going back into that cot¬tage alone." He smiled faintly. "There's more than one way to fight off nightmares. Want to try a few?" Then he suddenly frowned. "Dammit, I didn't mean to say that."

She stiffened. And she hadn't expected him to say it, to put into words the sexual tension that was vibrating between them. It took her off guard. "Sex?" she blurted. "Is that part of the deal?"

His frown deepened. "I don't recall a deal. I made you a promise." He turned away. "And just now I made a suggestion, not a demand. I buy whores when they're selling. I don't try to make any woman into one." He looked over his shoulder, his lips taut. "But you thought about 'the deal' the minute I mentioned going to bed. Tell me, Emily, what would you have said if I'd said yes?"

She was silent a moment. "I'd do anything to make sure I got Staunton."

"Shit."

He strode off into the darkness.

Emily stood gazing after him. He was moving with an almost elec¬tric energy, his strides long and purposeful. Totally male, full of anger, full of power. She couldn't take her eyes off him. He was angry with her, and yet she had only told the truth. You wouldn't think a man as mature and clearly sexual as Garrett would have reacted in that way.

But what did she know about how he would react to anything? They were still strangers, and the bond she felt with him was as bizarre as everything else connected with their relationship. Actually, they had no real relationship. He wasn't tied to her in any way but the tenuous threads of his sympathy, his desire to help. Perhaps that was why she had jumped to that conclusion about sex. Maybe subconsciously she had wanted to tie him closer, make his reasons for helping her stronger.

Lord, she hoped that wasn't the truth. She didn't want to believe that Staunton had twisted her to that extent.

She tore her gaze from Garrett and started toward the cottage.

GARRETT WAS SWEARING BENEATH his breath with every step.

Damn, he should never have gone down to the cottage to see Emily. There had been no real reason. He could have been patient and let her come to him.

Except he didn't seem to have any patience where Emily was con¬cerned. He had wanted to see her and had blindly obeyed the impulse. He'd been clumsy from the moment she had opened the door until he'd tried to lure her into bed. Hell, half the time he was aching with sympathy, and the other half his aching had nothing to do with pity. He hadn't even known he was going to proposition her until the words had tumbled from his lips. She was still the walking wounded. It was on par with all the wild mixture of emotions he had felt for Emily from that first moment. Pity, respect, protectiveness, and now lust.

Well, they would have to work their way through it. But, dammit, he should have kept his mouth shut.

He glanced back at the beach as he reached the house.

Emily had already gone into the cottage, and her lamp was turned off. Good. He hoped one of them would get a good night's sleep. He wasn't at all sure that he would be-

His cell phone rang and he glanced at the ID display. Private number. He punched the button. "Garrett."

"How do you do, Mr. Garrett? It's a pleasure to be able to contact you. I've had to go to a good deal of trouble to track you down."

Smooth, mellow, deep voice. Australian accent.

He stiffened. "Who the hell is this?"

"Just a friend of Emily's. I'm sure she told you about me. It was a short acquaintance but very intimate." "Staunton?"

"You see, she did tell you about me. How is the sweet bitch? I can't tell you how I've missed her."

"How did you know that she was with me?"

"Well, I knew she wasn't with the CIA, so I went looking for the man who took her away from me. As I said, it was difficult. I had to sift through all kinds of stories and false trails. But I'm a persistent man. I located Karif Barouk here in the mountains. He's such a good friend to you. It took a long time for me to get him to tell me who he told the location of my camp."

Garrett's hand tightened on his phone. "I understand you can be very persuasive. Is Karif still alive?"

"Yes." Staunton paused. "But he's no longer important. He was just the means to bring us together. I have a proposition for you."

"I can't wait to hear it."

"It's very simple. Turn Emily over to me, and I'll let you live." "Go to hell."

"Or don't give her to me, and I'll track you down and kill you and everyone you care about. I'll wait two days. Isn't that generous of me?"

"She's no good to you. She can't give you what you want." The call could be a trap. He'd been on the phone too long already, and he should hang up. But Staunton had Karif, and Garrett had to run the risk if he was to have even a chance of keeping Karif alive. "What's Zelov's hammer?"

"Didn't Emily tell you?"

"She doesn't know anything about it, you bastard."

"I prefer to think that she does and just won't tell me. That will make it far more satisfying. I'm very angry with Emily. Give her to me, Garrett."

"No, you son of a bitch. I believe I'll give you to her."

"Really? No, I have the edge. You and Karif must be very close. He was able to give me a surprising amount of your personal informa¬tion. I've already found out a good deal about you, Garrett. I'll find out more. Then I'll find Emily."

"No way."

"You're really a shade too cocky for my taste. I think you need tak¬ing down a peg. Now, what can I do… Oh, I know. Talk to your friend Karif. Hold on, I'm putting him on."

"Garrett?" Karif's voice was thready. "I'm sorry. I tried to-"

"It's okay, Karif. I understand."

"Run. I didn't want-I didn't think I was-that weak. I never-" "That's enough." Staunton had taken the phone again. "Talking is difficult for him. Everything is difficult for the poor bastard now." "You son of a bitch."

"Yes, I am. But I took care of ridding myself of that particular bitch years ago." He spoke in an aside to someone. "Yes, Borg? Excel¬lent. I'm going to hang up now, Garrett."

"The hell you are." Stall. Find a way out for Karif. "I want to talk to Karif again."

"Karif? I told you, he's no longer useful. Let's put him out of his misery. A knife, I think…"

"No, dammit, wait. We can-" A scream.

My God. Garrett's teeth clenched, his hand tightening on the phone.

Staunton came back on the line. "He died for you, Garrett. Not many people can claim that kind of distinction. Does it make you feel important?"

For a moment Garrett couldn't speak. Rage was searing, burning through him. "You wouldn't want to know how I'm feeling right now, Staunton. You've just made a mistake."

"Perhaps. I had to balance the possibility of angering you and the satisfaction of putting Karif down. I didn't think there was much chance of your letting me have my Emily, so I opted for killing Karif."

"You'll never have Emily. But I'll see you soon, Staunton." He hung up the phone.

Bastard.

He had to wait a moment until he could subdue the shock and anger that was tearing at him. Smother the memories of Karif and their boyhood together. Block it all out. Control it.

Yes, Borg? Excellent.

What was excellent? Garrett had an idea and he had to move quickly. There would be a time for rage and regret and revenge later.

He moved toward the door, punching Dardon's number in his phone.

Oh, yes, there would definitely be a time.