Code Name: Baby (29 page)

Someone grunted in pain.

A rock fell from the tunnel ceiling, hitting her arm. Whining, Baby licked her face, the only thing that kept her from sleep.
So tired.

A fist smashed against bone. Shadows drove back and forth, long and grotesque to Kit's drugged eyes. Dimly, she heard Diesel bark.

One shadow wavered. The other one loomed toward her while the floor of the tunnel vibrated.

“You should have joined me when I asked. We could do things no man has ever done. But you've let them shape you, control you.”

Voices drifted in and out. Kit looked up to see Wolfe's face above her, the eyes fierce. But was it really Wolfe she was seeing?

He picked her up and tossed her over one shoulder, kicking at the three dogs that tried to bite his feet and arms.

“Put her down, Cruz.”

The world tilted. She struck blindly at the hands gripping her. He kept moving, dodging the dogs that snapped at his hands.

“With her, I have her dogs. We both know that. You won't fire in here, not with this rotten wood everywhere. She's already knocked out one of the beams.”

Dizzily, Kit saw Baby back up, head erect. In a blur of motion, the Lab raced forward and jumped, landing in a sprawl across her attacker's shoulders.

Kit twisted hard. Gasping, she shook free, landing on the tunnel floor, while Baby's growls mingled with her captor's muffled curses. Diesel crawled next to her and through her pain she saw the dark shapes of two men struggling. Suddenly white flakes dotted the air, melting on her cheeks.
Snow?
But how?

“You see what they can do, Houston? They're worth more than anyone knows. But I'll kill them if I have to. And you along with them.”

Kit struggled to her feet, swaying drunkenly, something wet and cold on her face even though it couldn't really be snow, just some kind of hallucination.

One of the shadows leaped forward. Both men fell in a sprawl, tumbling through mud and water while the dogs closed in warily. Baby grabbed one of the shadows, growling in a frenzy.

Voices boomed from the mouth of the cave. “Houston, are you down there?”

With a muffled sound of fury one of the shadows pulled free and kicked Baby away, charging toward the bigger tunnel with Wolfe in close pursuit. Their racing steps echoed between the narrow rock walls.

Then they were gone.

Shadows closed around Kit. Someone lifted her carefully off the ground while the dogs watched suspiciously.

“Ms. O'Halloran, Izzy Teague sent me for you.”

She tried to point down the slope where Wolfe had vanished, but her arms wouldn't move.

“Just rest. Everything will be fine.”

“Wolfe,” she mumbled, coughing as dust swirled up. “Down there. T-two of them.”

“Take it easy, ma'am. You're going to be fine.”

“Dogs…”

“Your dogs are good to go. The big one's out cold, but his pulse is steady.”

“Izzy?” She worked to keep her eyes open. “Hurt?”

The voice tightened. “We got to him in time. He's being treated now. We need to get out of here.”

Someone lifted her into the air. She tried to look back into the darkness. “Can't leave…him.”

But she was already being carried up the tunnel.

 

J
UST BEFORE
Wolfe reached the turn in the mine corridor, Cruz jumped him. His old colleague was stronger than he'd ever been and the first assault came without warning. Driven against the tunnel wall, Wolfe grappled with Cruz, tossing out razor-sharp images of a mine collapse. Being buried alive was Cruz's worst fear, and Wolfe played on that fear now with image after image.

But Cruz's grip didn't waver. He shoved a knife against Wolfe's neck. “Don't make me do this, Houston. You could be useful to me—it doesn't have to end here. I need assets like you.”

Wolfe didn't answer. It would have been a waste of breath. Instead he put all his will into deflecting the knife at his neck. How had Cruz become so damned strong?

“You're not convinced? Too bad.” The knife twisted and Cruz lunged sideways, driving his arm forward.

Wolfe felt a bone snap in his wrist. Pain roiled up his arm, but he stepped out of the sensation, turning his awareness into something cold and hard.

Cruz had done the same long ago.

“They threw me away like garbage.” He slashed Wolfe's arm with his knife. “They'll do the same to you one day. Your chips will degrade, the medicines will fail, and you'll be tagged, hunted, listed as dead. Then they'll come for you the way they did for me.”

Wolfe tried not to listen. Cruz was a head case, gripped by full-blown psychosis. None of his predictions had basis in reality. Ryker had a team of medical experts watching for just this kind of problem in the new technology.

“Are you listening to me, Houston? Don't you—”

Wolfe lunged low, pulling out of Cruz's reach, ignoring a savage wave of pain as he snapped a roundhouse kick high and right toward Cruz's head. His foot slammed into Cruz's neck and sent him flying back. He recovered in seconds, dropping to the tunnel floor with a low, horizontal kick that drove Wolfe onto one knee.

Cruz had always been good at taekwondo, and his strength was explosive, but now his focus was unstable, shifting as he glanced back up the tunnel.

Using the momentary advantage, Wolfe kicked at Cruz's knee. He followed up with the syringe he'd wedged into a pocket of his tactical vest. One dose of the neurotoxin was enough to fell a horse, according to Ryker. All Wolfe had to do was deliver it.

The effect would be nearly instantaneous. Ryker had made it very clear that he wanted Cruz immobile but alive.

With a hiss, Cruz slashed his knife down, the blade drawing blood the whole length of Wolfe's arm. “It's a good day to die, my friend.”

After that no more was said, neither questions nor threats. Whatever followed would be played out in silence and to the death.

Blood oozed down Wolfe's hand. He pretended to stumble and hit the tunnel wall. When Cruz came after him Wolfe jammed the syringe up to the hilt in his attacker's neck. A muffled roar of shock and fury exploded through the darkness, and Cruz staggered backward, digging blindly at the air.

A high-velocity round cracked, raking Wolfe's cheek. Cruz aimed wildly with one hand and fired again. Something struck Wolfe's leg and he heard Baby bark, shooting past him.

Butch and Sundance were only steps behind, blurs in the darkness.

Cruz snarled and fell back. As the dogs circled him, he hesitated, then turned and was swallowed up in the dark maw of the main tunnel. Wolfe staggered in pursuit, cold air brushing his face. Dust swirled up and a section of the roof collapsed.

Baby whimpered and stood stock still, ears raised. Another timber support collapsed, filling the air with acrid dust.

The three dogs inched away from the deeper part of the mineshaft. Then Baby gripped Wolfe's arm and pulled him up the slope while the other dogs followed, keeping their bodies between Baby and the tunnel depths. Some part of Wolfe's mind found time to marvel at this new example of the dogs' teamwork.

The floor shook. Another section of the roof fell. Wolfe saw something glint near his foot. He flashed his penlight on the ground and saw a small silver cross dangling from a tarnished chain caught between two rocks. He shoved the necklace in his pocket as a chunk of stone tore from the roof, plunging past his shoulder.

“Get moving,” he shouted hoarsely. Herding the dogs in front of him, he sprinted up the slope, jumping to avoid fallen debris, rocks and roof beams.

Behind him musty air surged up and dust raged in angry brown clouds as the ground heaved and a section of the wall collapsed. With rocks slamming against his face and shoulders he raced toward the sunlight already obscured by swirling dirt. Wolfe saw the dogs jump and he ran after them through the dust, leaping through the tunnel opening in front of a wall of dirt and debris. He hit hard, rolling down into a rocky wash. Wreathed in dust, he watched the mineshaft cough and heave, then disappear, its mouth covered by rocks and earth.

Wolfe pushed to his knees. He staggered up the slope but now there was only a wall of stones in front of him, no entrance to be seen anywhere.

No one could have escaped alive. Cruz had been drugged, disoriented. Now he was dying in the rubble or already dead.

Wolfe felt Baby near his hand as he sank onto one knee, thinking about a man who had once been a hero, close enough to be his brother. They had shared danger, tasted fear together. Now Cruz was buried, his wild delusions and awful hate buried with him.

Wolfe coughed and felt two furry bodies press against his other leg.

It was a good day to die, he thought. But it was a far better day to live.

A
MEDICAL OFFICER WAS PEERING
at Kit over the rim of an oxygen mask. He stared into her eyes, frowning.

Her voice sounded weak and thready when she demanded to know where Wolfe was and what was happening in the tunnel.

“Right here, honey. Don't talk. Everything's fine.”

She closed her eyes, tears burning. She felt the hands tremble, locked in her hair.

“What about my dogs?”

“All present and accounted for. Diesel's been six inches away from you, snapping at everyone.” Wolfe gave a dry laugh. “He nearly bit the med tech trying to take your pulse.”

Kit was too worried to smile. “What about Izzy?”

“Airlifted to the hospital in Albuquerque. Broken ribs and…a few other things.” Wolfe's voice was tight. “He will get excellent care, don't worry about that.”

“What happened in there? I feel completely weird.”

“Tranquilizers. You'll be groggy for a while.”

The medic leaned down and wrapped something around Wolfe's arm, pulling it into a sling.

“Get some rest,” Wolfe said quietly, smoothing her hair. “It's over.”

The ground rumbled and Kit smelled dust on the air. “But Wolfe, it snowed,” she rasped. “Inside the tunnel, I saw snow. I know that's impossible.” She took a hard breath. “And that man—he looked just like you.”

Wolfe stared toward the collapsed tunnel, his expression unreadable. “It was dust, not snow. That was just an illusion, honey. There were a lot of things that weren't what they seemed in there.” His body tensed against her back, and Kit sensed that there were things that he couldn't or wouldn't ever tell her.

But that was fine. She trusted him to tell her what was necessary.

She felt Baby wriggle in underneath Wolfe's arm, and then they were surrounded by all the puppies. Diesel actually crawled into Wolfe's lap and bit his chin.

The sight was so comical that Kit laughed until the world went blurry again.

Two weeks later

 

“D
ON
'
T TELL ME
that you've got soy burgers and low-fat cereal in that bag or I may have a serious relapse.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Kit glared at Izzy, outstretched in the hospital bed with a broken arm, broken rib and a broken leg.

“Sure I have.”

But when Kit glanced covertly at the nurse nearby, she shook her head.

Sitting in a nearby chair, Wolfe sniffed the air expectantly. His eyes never left Kit's face though his expression was controlled. “Smells great. What is it?”

“Health food for two. Whether you like it or not.”

Izzy sighed. “Whoever invented tofu should be shot.”

“Not that kind of health food. I'm talking green chile quesadillas and tortilla soup. Chicken mole poblano. All homemade.” As Kit spoke, she laid out steaming plates of food. She had the men's attention now. “And for dessert, steak rare with mashed potatoes.”

Izzy closed his eyes on a reverent sigh. Wolfe sat forward in his chair, trying not to wince.

“Houston, did you hear that? We're in clover now.”

Wolfe gave Kit a long, lingering glance. “We sure are.”

The nurse hid a smile as she took Wolfe's pulse. “I'll pretend that I didn't hear that talk about food. Both of you need broth, fruit and more rest, according to your medical team.”

The two men grimaced in unison.

“No way. Just don't get him started on the whole push-up thing,” Izzy muttered.

“Me?” Wolfe studied Izzy's bandaged arms and leg with a critical eye. “When will you stop trying to reach things yourself and start asking for help?”

“At exactly the same time you do.” Izzy gestured at Wolfe's arm. “Where's that sling the doctor told you to wear?”

“I don't need it.”

“Tell that to the X-ray tech who showed me where your wrist and most of your arm got shattered.”

“I'm doing fine.” He cleared his throat as he met Izzy's eye. “I happen to heal very fast, I'm told.”

Kit put down the last of her bags with a loud bang. “If you two would stop arguing, you could eat some of this food before it gets cold.”

“Sounds good to me.” Izzy glanced toward the door. “Just don't let that other night nurse see what you've brought. The woman's a dragon.”

The day nurse shook her head and left.

“I think she has a crush on you,” Wolfe said smoothly. “She was in here four times this morning, and I swear she didn't glance at me once.”

“Quiet.”

The men looked at Kit. Then they stopped arguing and meekly watched her fill up plates with hot food.

She knew that their nerves were on edge. Both of them were highly trained and in full mission focus, even now. It was clear that they were not about to submit to extended rest with a good temper.

Kit had had her hands full keeping them distracted. Of course, the dogs had helped. Wolfe and Baby had spent hours doing search games up and down the floor. Diesel had crawled onto Izzy's bed and gone to sleep beside him. Baby had stayed inches from Wolfe whenever Kit had brought them to visit.

None of the military hospital staff or administrators had complained. Since this end of the floor was sectioned off and restricted for their use, there was no problem with privacy either. If Kit hadn't already guessed how important the two men were, their treatment would have spelled it out clearly.

A special set of doctors had been flown in for their care, along with other staff. Not that it made either man less irritable.

“If you two VIPs will stop criticizing each other, you can tell me what you want to eat first.”

“Steak,” the two said in the same breath.

Kit grinned. “Figured that. I would have brought margaritas, but the doctor said no alcohol for either of you.” Izzy made a low sound of pain and Kit hid a smile. “I still don't understand what happened or why I don't remember any of the details about that cave in. The doctor here told me it was stress, but I've never forgotten things before.”

“It was more than stress,” Wolfe said gravely. “There are all kinds of gases in old mines. Carbon monoxide can collect and you never know it's there. But you'll have some strange reactions.”

Kit slanted a glance at Izzy's arm, still hidden beneath white gauze bandages. He had been found unconscious under a creosote bush, where he'd crawled after the attack. Wolfe had given her the general outline, and she hadn't asked for more details. She was starting to understand just how strict military security could be.

Kit straightened the bright green sweater and capri pants she had chosen so carefully with Miki this morning. She knew she looked decent because two orderlies had whistled at her on the way up. But Wolfe hadn't seemed to notice anything she wore since the day at the mine. He was considerate, friendly but politely distant.

And it was driving her
crazy.

“So it was a gas that affected me? That could make sense.” She smiled as a weight was lifted from her shoulders. Thanks to a new medicine that Izzy had suggested, Kit's pain had decreased significantly. But she had been afraid that the mix was causing side effects, disrupting her memory. It was a relief to know that the real source lay elsewhere.

She was slicing huge slabs of chocolate cake when Baby rummaged beneath the chair beside the bed. Holding something in her teeth, the Lab trotted to Wolfe's side and dropped the bright length in his lap.

Kit realized Baby had given him her sheerest camisole. Hot pink silk and ecru lace, it was a recent gift from the ever-meddling Miki.

“Nice taste, Baby. The pink's a nice touch with your fur. But I think it may be a little loose around your front paws,” Wolfe murmured.

“Give me that.” Kit grabbed at the piece of lingerie. “I've been looking for that all morning.”

“No way.” Wolfe parried her hands smoothly. “Baby wanted me to have this.”

Kit's cheeks were flushed. “We can discuss this later.” She glared at Baby. “And
you
are a troublemaker.”

There was a noise at the door.

Lloyd Ryker strode in with two aides in tow. He was wearing an understated but perfectly cut gray suit, and he looked extremely pleased with himself. “How are they doing, Ms. O'Halloran? Giving you more trouble?”

“Nothing I can't handle.”

“It looks that way.” Ryker studied Baby thoughtfully. “Your dogs look better every day. But I expect everyone tells you that.”

“I have a lot to be thankful for.” Kit glanced at Wolfe and Izzy. “If these two could manage to recuperate as fast as my dogs, I'd be very happy.”

Ryker cleared his throat. “I want to discuss something with you, Ms. O'Halloran. It concerns your dogs.”

“No. You can't have them.” Kit's voice was polite but firm. “They need more time. They have to work on corner training and learn more chained commands, along with hazardous zone searches. They're nowhere near ready for service placement yet, sir.”

“Our police and military units desperately need dogs like this,” Ryker said thoughtfully. “But I have to agree, they aren't ready yet. I've been going through your reports since they were referred to me. They would be an excellent asset for me.”

Kit thought she saw Wolfe and Izzy share a look. She didn't know what kind of unit Ryker oversaw, but she did know it was important. “I'm not sure what kind of service work your unit carries out, sir.”

“We do this and that,” Ryker said vaguely. “Here and there.” He looked at Baby for a long time. “I'm proposing, Ms. O'Halloran, that they stay with you for another twelve months. At the end of that time we'll evaluate their progress. And assess their…strengths. I'm assigning Commander Houston to be my personal liaison in this matter. Will that be acceptable to you both?”

“Yes.” Wolfe cleared his throat. “Sir.”

“Perfectly,” Kit murmured.

“So that's settled.” Ryker gestured at the box on the nearby table. “Now how about a slice of that chocolate cake? I hope this is another recipe of your mother's, Ms. O'Halloran.”

“Yes, it is.” Things were always uncomfortable when this man appeared with his silent entourage. Kit sensed tense undercurrents among the three men and references to things she didn't—and never would—understand. But she wouldn't dwell on Lloyd Ryker. He seemed like he could be a difficult man, but his offer was reasonable. She decided to accept. Working with Wolfe would give her the chance to figure out the next stage in this odd relationship they seemed to be having, even though he hadn't said a personal word to her since the attack in the mine. If Kit had her way, it would be straight into bed. She'd enjoy seeing how inventive he could be with just one arm.

And now that they had business together, he couldn't keep avoiding her.

She handed Ryker the slice of cake he'd requested. “I haven't had a chance to thank you for putting in the new security system at my ranch, sir. That was very thoughtful.”

“I consider it a business investment. We've all got hard work ahead of us, young lady. I don't want you distracted with problems.” Ryker glanced at his watch. “I've got to be on a plane in forty minutes. I'll draw up a contract about the dogs and we can talk after I get back. By the way, I thought you'd want to have this. One of my men found it while he was burying the lines for your new security system.” Ryker held out a handmade leather pouch with red beadwork and long suede fringe. The bag was worn but intricate and clearly valuable.

Kit took the small leather bag, her touch reverent. “You found this at my ranch?”

“Near the well. Do you know what it is?”

“It's a medicine pouch, probably Apache. My father had one just like this.” Her fingers closed gently around the stiff beaded leather. She had a sudden suspicion that she was looking at the Apache treasure Emmett and all the others had searched for over the years. The leather was pristine, the beadwork exquisite. A fine object like this, well preserved and with a personal provenance, would be worth thousands to a serious collector.

And Kit didn't consider selling it for a second.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, slipping the bag into her pocket. She'd take the time to study it later, sorting through the bittersweet memories of her father that the bag inspired. But first she had to see that Izzy ate more and that Wolfe did his rehab exercises.

Training high-strung, energetic service dogs had taught her a thing or two about managing men like this. After they finished, she was going to herd everyone out of the room so that Izzy could rest. Not the dogs, of course. They seemed to make him relax when nothing else could.

After that, Kit had her own offer to make to Wolfe.

“You'll be hearing from me soon,” Ryker said curtly. Then he strode out, followed by his aides.

The mood lightened immediately.

Kit stared at Izzy. “Have a second piece of cake.” She cut a slice and put it on the rolling table in front of him. Ignoring his scowl, she helped him eat all of it.

“Damned bound hands,” He muttered.

Wolfe was very quiet, and Kit swung around to face him next. “Out in the hall. We need to talk.”

But as soon as the door closed behind them, Wolfe turned and pulled her against him, using his good arm. “Don't suppose you'd be interested in spending the night with me tonight.”

Kit's pulse spiked. “To talk about canine training regimens?”

“To make love until we both drop,” he said harshly.

“Your bed or mine?”

“Both,” he muttered. “Then the floor. Then any tables that happen to be handy.”

“That can probably be arranged.” Kit smiled uncertainly. “As long as you don't hurt your arm.”

“To hell with my arm.” Wolfe pinned her against the wall as his mouth skimmed and savored. “I've got a few hours' leave and I'm going to enjoy it to the full extent of my tactical capabilities.”

The possibilities made Kit's heart lurch. But she sighed and pulled away as Miki and Trace approached down the hall. They were arguing, as usual.

“Wolfe, they're
coming.”

“So what? I've waited two weeks to talk about our future, honey. I figure that you needed a little time to get your breath. But I'm not stopping now.”

Kit gave up being discreet. Sighing, she flowed into the heat of his body, feeling as giddy and vulnerable as she had at thirteen when she'd watched him fumble with Marijo Shelton's bra in the back seat of her car.

The flood of hot fantasies left her flushed and she took a deep breath.

“What's wrong?”

“You. I lose my train of thought whenever you're in the same county.”