Bound by Dreams Page 15

  “Understandable. It’s a good thing you’re doing. Of course, good things don’t always feel good at the time,” Izzy added. “You’re still travelling with a bodyguard?”

  “Yes. And it’s damned uncomfortable.”

  A shadow fell across the doorway. “What is uncomfortable?”

  The men in the library turned sharply. Calan strode in, dropped two plastic bags on the worktable and went to pour himself a cup of tea.

  “Having a bodyguard. It’s good to see you, Calan. You look like you’ve been through the wringer. There’s a nasty cut on your neck.”

  “I’ll survive,” Calan said drily. “I’ve got good genes.”

  Nicholas reached for the smaller bag and held it up to the light. “What have we here?”

  “Mud samples. I found them on the far side of the road, just past the sharp curve at the north side of the estate. From the tracks, I make out one car. Wheelbase is 2.8 meters. Two men left the car, climbing the stone fence three hundred meters apart. One dropped a cigarette butt. You’ll find it in the second bag. At a quick guess, I’d say it’s a clove-flavored type imported from Indonesia. Highly addictive.”

  “They’re called kretek,” Izzy said quietly. “You picked up all that from a single butt?”

  “It’s still just a guess.” Calan swirled the tea in his cup, then glanced at the wiring diagrams spread over the table. “They didn’t go very far. One stayed near the fence, possibly standing guard. The other left a low-profile digital surveillance camera at an excellent vantage point for the house.” Calan rolled his shoulders, frowning. “The camera’s there, but the data card is in that plastic bag.”

  Nicholas frowned.

  “It’s tough and durable, but not many bells and whistles. If I made a guess, I’d say it could be ex-Soviet block. Probably a few years old.”

  Nicholas breathed out a harsh breath.

  “Well, well.” Izzy reached out for the bag that Nicholas had put back on the table. “I’ll get right on it. This could give us something to work with. I might even be able to backtrack it to the vendor, especially if it’s military.”

  Nicholas nodded to him. “Let’s make that the top priority.” He turned to Calan and his voice fell. “Are you certain you’re all right? Your hand is bruised. What happened?”

  “I missed my footing beyond Lyon’s Leap and took a tumble in the dark.” Calan gritted his teeth as he rubbed his wrist. “It’s a little stiff, nothing more.”

  “It looks as if you’ve got some kind of rash.” Nicholas glanced at the heavy welts crisscrossing Calan’s wrist. “I’ll have a doctor look at it tomorrow.”

  “There’s no need, Nicholas. It will be fine.” The edge in Calan’s voice indicated that the subject was closed.

  “Anything else you managed to pick up?” Izzy took out tweezers and gently removed the small data card from the bag. “Any detail at all could help narrow the search.”

  “Not a great deal. They were careful. However, I did find traces of carfentanil on one of the prints. The mud sample was taken from the print.”

  Izzy put down his tweezers. “You carry forensics gear with you as a routine?”

  Calan shrugged. “My company is working on some technology for field chemical assessments.”

  “I’ll take some of that now,” Izzy muttered, looking bemused. “Assessments of that order of subtlety, handled with a portable field kit? Yeah, I’d be all over that. Any idea when your company will be offering the technology for sale?”

  “I’ll let you know,” Calan said. “As I was saying, I believe the chemical was the same as that used last night. You can verify that, Mr. Teague.”

  “Izzy. And give me twenty minutes for an answer.”

  Calan rubbed his neck. “Given the moisture remaining in the footprints, I estimate they left less than two hours ago.”

  “Soon after the brigadier’s people arrived,” Nicholas murmured. “So you’re saying Draycott has been compromised by intruders who knew precisely when the alarms went off?”

  “That’s my assessment. They left in a hurry, judging by the force of the tire tracks, and then headed south.” Calan poured himself more tea. “I followed them to the I44, where I lost them.”

  Izzy hadn’t moved. “You followed their tire prints? How did you manage that, with all the other road traffic?”

  Calan sipped his tea, rubbing his wrist. “It’s another piece of new technology I’m working on. Still proprietary, so you’ll understand if I don’t go into details.”

  Izzy crossed his arms. “I see.”

  His voice said that he didn’t see at all.

  “So they have surveillance equipment to install.” Nicholas continued to study the soil sample in the bag. “They also have carfentanil at hand, ready to use. That’s powerful animal tranquilizer. Sounds to me as if they were hoping to take a captive.” His voice was grim. “Are hoping,” he corrected quietly.

  “I’d say that was likely.” Calan finished his tea. “And they’re taking chances, getting edgy. That makes them very dangerous. You’re going to need extra security precautions, Nicky. Raise the level of protection on your family,” he said flatly. “Now. Then we have to talk.”

  “Understood.” Nicholas pulled out his cell phone. “Give me five minutes.”

  Kent, England

  SWEAT COVERED the driver’s face.

  Though he wanted to race madly through the quiet streets, he drove slowly, mindful of speed limits and merging lanes. The man beside him was just as jumpy. There was no room for failure, not after so many months of preparation.

  His fingers tightened on the wheel. They needed a hostage. They must have one to succeed in controlling the summit.

  He ran a hand over his forehead, forcing his mind to cold detachment. His cell phone vibrated and he answered immediately. “What is it?” The question was in flat, accented English.

  His contact spoke in breathless excitement. “I have information. You must come back here now.”

  Zarof frowned at the darkness. This man was new, but well trained, from the same military unit in the war. “What kind of information?”

  “Not over the phone, you told us. It involves the family you are interested in. I have found one, and she is alone. Unguarded.”

  Zarof gripped the wheel. “You’re certain of this?”

  “I had it from my sister’s first cousin. She works in the housekeeping department, remember? And she had this news from the hotel manager’s own mouth. It is someone in the family, he swears it. The resemblance does not lie.”

  Zarof reached down, taking a well-oiled military revolver from the car’s glove compartment. A muscle clenched at his jaw.

  The long weeks of planning and watching were done.

  Now the true mission could begin. Blood would be spilled, just as they had promised. A pity that his own government had cut off all connection with his group. The new regime lacked daring and vision, always compromising. They had accepted handouts from their enemies.

  Zarof was tired of handouts. For years, he had received extensive interrogation training, learned at the hands of a dozen international teachers. Now his skills at inflicting pain would once again be useful. His small group would point the way for the cowardly politicians.

  He left the highway, eyes on the nearby traffic. When he was certain that no one had followed him, he took the first turn, heading south to the coast.

  KIERA JOLTED awake.

  Something was wrong.

  She heard a movement nearby in the darkness. Her fingers clenched. Still half asleep, she told herself the sound was only in her imagination, shaped of restless dreams. But logic didn’t shake her feeling of restlessness and danger.

  She sat up, frowning. She had no more time. Her family needed her to help pay for her father’s expensive medical care, and the sooner she got back to work, the better.

  Kiera stood up, searching for her clothes. She never should have agreed to come here with Calan. Whatever pull or a
ttraction she’d felt was temporary, an illusion created by the stress of her visit. It was time to be responsible and practical again.

  It was time to leave, now before Calan came back to muddle her focus. She picked up her sweater—and froze.

  Something rustled outside her window.

  Was she being watched?

  Had Calan come back at last?

  She sat, frozen, her eyes fixed on the darkness just beyond the heavy curtains. But now there was only silence.

  She closed her eyes, willing her body to relax. Too much had happened since her arrival in England, and nothing had turned out as she’d expected. The abbey was dangerously beautiful, and it was a struggle to keep her emotions detached from the old house, its history and its owner.

  And when it came to being detached about Calan…

  Kiera blew out an angry breath. There was no place for Calan in her well-planned future. She was going back to her town, her small office, her work and her family. She had lost herself to passion in his arms, but it wouldn’t happen again.

  Something else continued to bother her. What was it that his great-aunt had blurted out? Something about a test and a ritual?

  Tested by whom? Was some kind of secret group involved or was the attack at the abbey something completely unrelated?

  Only a fool would ignore the signs of danger at Draycott Abbey, and Kiera was no fool. Men didn’t make violent kidnapping attempts for no reason. If she hadn’t been so twisted up by emotion, caught up in resolute plans for her visit, she would have called in a police report to alert the owners of the abbey about the danger.

  But she owed the Draycott family nothing. They could pay people to guard them, or use their friends like Calan to help. The sane and logical thing to do was to go home.

  The calm, practical part of her mind knew it was true. Right now, she needed to dress and call a taxi. But something held her, making her heart pound.

  She forced herself to sink back into the cool white sheets, every sense painfully alert. The night seemed to close in.

  She couldn’t leave now. She had too many questions, and those answers would affect every part of her future. She also had a responsibility to alert Calan to the attack outside the abbey. He would notify Nicholas Draycott and the proper authorities. She should have told him about the attack as soon as she realized she could trust him.

  Trust?

  The thought was sudden and jolting. She had known the Scotsman for mere hours. What gave her this certain sense that she could trust him? Kiera closed her eyes, searching for answers. She had grown up in a tightly knit family in a community where they had been respected but definitely outsiders. Both her parents had always been guarded about their pasts, with few close friends. As a child, Kiera had learned not to trust anyone outside her own family. As an adult, little of that sense of distance had changed.

  Until now.

  The reasons didn’t spring from logic. Her trust for Calan welled up from a deeper place of connection between them. There was shimmering sexual chemistry between them, yes, but his cool intelligence and his quiet sense of duty attracted her even more. After seeing the note from his great-aunt about his explosive protection gear, Kiera realized there were layers to the Scotsman that she hadn’t suspected, and she wanted to explore all those depths.

  Because something else had changed. Kiera realized it was time to trust herself. It was time she stopped forcing herself to be detached and practical. All her careful planning had been no help at all lately. She had been at the mercy of chance ever since she had reached the abbey.

  She might as well be open to the possibilities that she had never allowed herself to explore. Something told her that she would never meet a man like Calan again. She would be a fool to turn her back on him.

  Something moved beyond her window. Kiera peered around the curtain. With her eyes attuned to the darkness, she saw the empty gravel driveway curving toward the summerhouse.

  Something moved just beyond the driveway.

  A big dog? Some kind of wolf?

  The creature stopped, head raised, half-swallowed by shadow.

  Her heart began to hammer. Something gave her the eerie sense that she was being seen, assessed. A dim instinct whispered that the animal on the far side of the grass knew exactly where she stood behind the heavy curtains and even what she was thinking.

  That was impossible.

  Angry at her thoughts, she padded back to bed and pulled the pillow over her head. Being spontaneous didn’t mean throwing out all her sanity and reasoning powers. A dog was a dog, after all. A wolf was a wolf. They were hardly her problem.

  She closed her eyes, listening to the deep silence pool up around her. Finally she drove the image of the figure on the driveway out of her mind. But when she saw Calan, Kiera was definitely going to tell him to keep a tighter control on the animal life crisscrossing his property.

  WIND BRUSHED the grass.

  The moon drifted and then vanished behind racing clouds. Night clung to the curves of the driveway and the old summerhouse.

  He stood at the edge of shadows, a creature at ease in the night, shaped from Scottish soil rich with violence and myth. Yet his muscles were real. His limbs were hard and solid.

  The night flowed around him, smells of the tall grass mixed with the perfume of lavender. He tasted the pain of wasted youth and lost family.

  From his innocence had come violence and death.

  Dangerous to forget that. Dangerous to forget that even a moment’s loss of control carried risks beyond imagining. So he did not forget. Ever.

  But there was no place for thought or truth when night called him to hunt, when the cool darkness wrapped around him. Over his head he could hear a leaf fall, feel the weight of moonlight on his bare skin.

  Alive, he was—with such power as mortal men could never know. He caught the faint mix of cinnamon and roses. He sensed her close by, in the room beyond the stairs.

  His senses flared without warning. The dark, prowling predator inside him growled and demanded to hunt.

  To hunt her.

  To capture and claim her, forced to his will.

  Stormy images broke through his mind. He burned with hunger for their bodies entangled and restless, noisy and pounding in the night. The images screamed, demanding that he make them real.

  Demanding that he make her submit.

  Something was wrong. He struggled to hold himself still despite the images that poured through his fingers like hot sand. His control was weakened.

  Dangerously weakened.

  He tried to call the Change, pulling himself back from violence and instinct, from four legs and straining lungs into the human body he had known first.

  He needed reason and control.

  Nothing happened.

  Claws dug at the damp earth. Something drove him through the grass up to the windows of her room. He panted, muscles bunched. Hunger overwhelmed every other instinct. In seconds she could be his, her skin sheathing his heat, trapped and claimed beneath him.

  His.

  A low sound slid from his throat. Wrong. Even the Other sensed the loss of balance.

  He dropped flat, pressing his body to the earth and fighting for the energy that would slam him back to reason. The man’s mind was dim, foreign in the powerful body he still wore.

  A barrier held him where he was, primitive and shuddering, gripped with images of violence. There was no sound around him, no sense of intruders.

  All was safe.

  Except for the threat that he had become.

  What he feared had finally come to pass. His control was the pivot for everything he was and knew; without control he was a danger to all around him. He had seen the violence of those who lost control back on his island home and the memories haunted him even now. He carried a syringe locked in his car; two more were kept inside his house to immobilize himself should the Change be blocked.

  Never had it happened before.

  And never would
this madness be allowed to proceed. He shot to his feet, racing along the darkened driveway to the car he had left beyond the trees.

  The syringe would protect her, protect them both from all that he feared to become if raw instinct and primal hunger overcame him. He had to act while his reason was still within reach.

  As Calan summoned his will the Other growled in fury, snapping and twisting. Pain jolted every nerve as the struggle raged.

  Finally his Change began. Never had it come so late or brought so much pain.

  Shuddering, he fell forward. Muscles twisted. Sweat dotted his naked back and shoulders.

  Claws receded.

  The man stood.

  With pounding heart, Calan rubbed his face and turned slowly. No other sounds drifted to him as he found his clothes, dressed clumsily and walked through the cool grass to his front door. Muscles burned as he climbed the stairs, stopping for a mere heartbeat outside her door.

  No sound came from the room.

  All was safe.

  But for how long?

  The question brought deeper torment. Angry, he ran water, found bandages and a needle. He barely noticed how his feet bled and welts dried on his shoulder. His muddy clothes dropped to the floor.

  Exhaustion hit him.

  Only in his exhaustion would the quiet footsteps have caught him by surprise. “Calan?”

  He froze.

  “You’re…back.”

  Her voice was a whisper. He caught the breathless mix of wariness and fascination.

  Desire, more than all.

  His head turned. His gaze locked on the mirror where he saw Kiera’s pale face. Color streaked her cheeks.

  Beautiful, he thought.

  And he could never hold that beauty against him because of the harm it would bring them both.

  “Go away.” Better to set their future straight now. Better to hurt in one stroke rather than in a thousand mangled, bleeding moments of explanation. “Please,” he said hoarsely.

  She didn’t move.

  Her shoulders tensed.