Authors: L. J Charles
A chill snaked down Jayme’s spine. “What exactly does that mean?”
Fred pinned him with a blank stare. “You’ll report to your current boss unless I need you.” He jabbed a finger at Jayme. “Let’s be clear on this. I don’t like you. Am damn pissed that you’re privy to any information about this situation, but I have to work with the facts, and you know too much.”
The chill exploded into icy dread. “You’re saying I’m expendable.”
“If I’d had time for the paperwork you would have been sanctioned when you landed in Manaus.” Fred grinned.
Jayme’s breath caught hard in his chest, and he met Fred’s glare. This man had perfected his ability to lie, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. “I’m shit full of your drama, Fred. Let’s move on to how you’re going to protect Kaimi.”
Fred erupted in a howl of laughter. “You caught me.”
The car pulled onto the cobbled street in front of the Four Seasons Hotel. And stopped. Jayme sucked in a breath. What the hell? “I figured we were heading for the Pentagon.”
“Not now. Not ever. Your reservations are under the name Evan White. Check in. Don’t leave your room. Do not communicate with anyone. No phone calls. No chatting up the pretty desk clerk. No Morse code. No smoke signals. Got it?”
The world swam in front of Jayme’s eyes. So this was what a sixties psychedelic trip felt like. “Got it. But, The Seasons?”
Fred huffed. “Some kind of damn government contract. We’ll contact you when it’s time to move.”
“Kaimi—”
“Forget her. You’ll be meeting your new partner later. Get out of the car. Now.”
“The hell I—”
A white-gloved porter from The Seasons opened the car door. “Sir?”
Fred jabbed his finger at the opening. “Out.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE THWHOP-THWHOP-RUMBLE OF
a helicopter cut through the natural rhythm of the jungle. It was a first for Kaimi, and she scrambled under a broad-leafed plant to her left. The clearing offered little to no cover, so she clung to the edge of the forested area, and focused on the only place in this section of the rainforest a chopper could come close to landing. Her clearing.
The canopy had thinned noticeably as she neared the area, and it only took a minute before the camouflage colors of a US military craft came into view. What the heck were they doing here? Jayme hadn’t had time to contact anyone yet. Had Fred been tracking her heat imprint? Or, damn, had they somehow implanted a tracker
in
her body? Impossible. She’d never been anything but sharply aware around her handler. And just the idea was B-movie creepy. Her stomach took a dive. Fred was creepy.
Kaimi had been diligent about backtracking and covering her path. She’d gathered the roots she needed to make the poison, and some
banisteriopsis
caapi,
commonly known as Soul Vine, that was favored for use in divination because of its hallucinogenic properties. It would be just the thing to help her prep for the suicide.
Several macaws fled the area, their shrieks almost inaudible under the whop of the chopper blades. A knot hardened in Kaimi’s chest, and cut off her breath. Damn but this was bad. If Fion had tracked her within a couple miles, the noise would be noticeable.
Her plan: shot to hell in a heartbeat. She’d have to regroup. Start over.
For the first time since Jayme had left, despair weighed heavy in Kaimi’s heart. She’d chosen this specific clearing because it was about half a klick from the nearest indigenous tribe, just far enough to ensure Fion didn’t harass them for helping her. Her death had to be staged in a place where Fion, or Eamon, would easily find the evidence, but not so obvious either of them would suspect a faked death scenario.
Panic screwed with Kaimi’s logic. Was it possible Fion had called in a US helicopter for backup? Damp from the forest floor seeped into her clothing and mingled with the sweat coating her body. Stupid. That wasn’t remotely possible.
The chopper hovered over the clearing, a drop line appeared, and before the immediate danger registered in Kaimi’s mind, a heavily armed man in jungle camouflage had jogged across the clearing and disappeared into the perimeter tree line just across from her.
The helicopter was but a faint rumble in the distance.
She drew in a long breath, held it, and then checked the immediate area for unsavory insects and potentially lethal predators. All clear. The Busse Boss Jack palmed in her right hand, Kaimi set her ear to the ground, called on her Huna training, and tuned in to the sounds of the rainforest.
Was he after her? Heading her way? He’d obviously been trained in stealth ops, and could be in the rainforest for any number of reasons.
Right, Kaimi. Just like you’re on holiday.
Her neck prickled.
And he dropped from a tree in front of her, landed with a bare rustle of leaves, and grinned. “Fred sent me. Ready to stage your death?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, A SEVERE CASE
of claustrophobia, and a raging headache later, Jayme opened his hotel room door to Kaimi and a man he didn’t recognize.
Kaimi scooted inside, dropped her backpack on the floor, and then leapt into Jayme’s arms. “Hi, honey. I’m ho-o-o-ome.”
He held her close, and a pulse beat so strong in his throat he couldn’t grab a breath. Damn, there was nothing like the high he got from crushing her warmth against his body. His mouth found hers with a series of fast, potent kisses that had heat flooding his groin.
Down, boy. Somebody’s watching.
Kaimi’s sigh whispered through his sensual fog. She was safe. He set her away to look into those deep blue eyes, to run his fingers over the flush highlighting her cheeks, to fall in love all over again with every one of those damn freckles.
“Ahem.” The nondescript man cleared his throat with pronounced impatience. “We need to get to work, so please take a seat.”
KAIMI’S BREATH CAME IN SHALLOW
pants. Jayme was here. Alive. He was so responsive to her touch, so full of energy and life. She soaked him in, her mate, the man who accepted her and all her quirks. The man she loved with every screwy DNA particle that made her…Kaimi.
The man tapped her on the shoulder. “Now, please. We’re on a tight schedule here.”
Kaimi slid her hand down Jayme’s arm, and then threaded her fingers with his. “I love you, Jayme. Let’s get this done.”
He ran the pad of his thumb over hers. “Love you, too. What are we getting done?” He turned to face the man hovering next to them. “And who are you?”
Kaimi nudged Jayme in the ribs with a discreet elbow jab. “Fred sent him. He’s here to help us,” she whispered, leading him to the sofa.
The man sat across from them, blending into the formal, stiff-backed chair like he’d been born to elegance. He opened his briefcase, selected a folder, and placed it on the black lacquer coffee table. “You are being shifted to, for lack of a more appropriate term, a witness protection program.” He selected two bundles of paper from the folder, and then placed one in front of each of them. “Read through the description of your new identities. Your final destination will remain classified until you’ve been handed over to a second team of relocation experts.”
Laughter gurgled in Kaimi’s chest. Or was that odd sensation a horrified scream? “Margaret Bowers? You can’t possibly be serious.”
Jayme pointed to the name at the top of his documents. “Looks like I’m Evan Bowers. Guess that means we’ll be getting married in the next few hours.”
Kaimi thumbed through the rest of the papers in her hand, skimming the contents, and then she stacked the pages on the coffee table and straightened the edges. “No.”
The man’s jaw dropped. He might have sputtered. Kaimi wasn’t quite sure, but his eyes were definitely buggy. “This is not a negotiable situation, Ms. Bowers.”
Jayme sat back, pressed his fist against his mouth to stop his laughter, and met Kaimi’s determined gaze with a slight nod.
“The only thing you got right in this documentation is the wedding.” She tapped the stack of papers. “Except that it will take place in Hawaii, and my father will perform the ceremony.”
She rested her hand on Jayme’s knee, and caught a glimpse of the pride and laughter in his eyes. “What would you like our surname to be?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “I have no problem with Evan as a middle name. I’ve never had one, and that was my maternal great grandfather’s name, so it’s fitting. My first name will be James, surname Gray.”
The man opened his mouth, but Jayme stopped his words with an upraised hand. “I know my brother well. He isn’t going to stop searching for us, no matter how well you bury our identities. He’s a sick bastard, but damn smart, and he’ll be looking for common names.” He winked at Kaimi. “Like Margaret, for example. He won’t investigate anything similar to what was on our birth certificates. James is my father’s name. He left me with a lot of good memories before he slipped into his own world, and hell, why not carry on his name? Since both my parents suffer from advanced dementia, but do remember they have sons, I choose not to dishonor them by making a radical change to my surname. The confusion would tip the scale into insanity for them. Gray is a single letter alteration, but adequately transforms the name for cursory database searches. And quite honestly, that’s the best you can hope for. Eamon and Fion Connor won’t stop attempting to locate us. Kaimi has something they want very badly, and both of them have been trained by top intelligence agencies. Our best bet is to hide in plain sight. “
“This is simply preposterous.” The man’s face had turned an unsightly shade of puce.
Peace washed through Kaimi. Jayme got it—completely understood every one of the issues facing them. “I will be Loyria Gray. Kaimi means seeker in Hawaiian and will always be a part of me, but it’s too unusual for me to use. One of my maternal grandmothers from eons ago, a missionary, I think, was named Loyria, and being her namesake will maintain balance in the family tradition. Names are very important in Hawaiian culture, and like Jayme…James, I want to have a name that links to my family. Especially since we’ll be living near them.”
The puce coloring the man’s face took on a green hue. “Your destination is unknown at this point.” He waved his hand over the papers. “The process of relocating you is going to be a cut out. I know your new names, but that’s all I’ll ever know. Someone else will transfer you to the airport, or train, or provide a vehicle for you. And yet someone else will inform you of your new address. Only Fred will be privy to your complete history.”
Kaimi…Loyria nodded. “I plan to continue my work, and I have no doubt Fred will stay in close contact with me. However, he won’t know where I am. And it really doesn’t matter if you know or not, because where we’re going no one will find us.”
James nudged her. “You planning to share that info with me?”
“I made airline reservations when they gave me a bathroom break.” Loyria stood, gathered every ounce of feminine power she had, and strode to the door, opened it. “Thanks for dropping me off. You best get moving and inform Fred about the new plans. He’ll need time to adjust.”
The man rose, stuffed the papers into his briefcase, and marched to the door. “You’ll be hearing from someone shortly.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She closed the door and flipped the lock.
Before Loyria could step back into the room, James was behind her, cradling her to his body. “You are amazing, woman.”
She leaned her head back, resting it on his shoulder. “It’s my fault we’re in this mess. If you want to back out—”
James spun her in his arms, tipped her chin up with his index finger. “There is no fault. I love you, and plan to spend the rest of my life riding shotgun while you continue your work. God knows it’ll be a full time job.”
The pent-up tension from the past two days drained from Loyria. “Yeah. I get that. We’re going to Hawaii. I’m taking you home to my parents, where they can train you in the Huna tradition. I spoke with them when I made our flight reservations, used their credit card, and we’re traveling under their names. Well, their fake names. My parents have never been on anyone’s grid.” She stepped back and touched his cheek, wanting to feel the strength there, and see the love in his eyes. “I hope our child looks like you.”
Bright spots of color highlighted James’s face. “You’re sure? About the baby?”
“Oh, yes. I knew the moment we conceived. In Huna we’re attuned to our bodies, and my mother is gifted with sight. She’s quite excited about her granddaughter.”
James palmed Loyria’s abdomen. “I don’t know a damn thing about girls.”
“Don’t worry. She’ll teach you.” Loyria bent, snagged her backpack, and shouldered it. “Do you have a bag?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to bring it. Fred met me at the airport, dropped me here. He could have tagged it with—what was that stuff you were working on before the shit hit the fan, spy dust?”
“Good point. I’ve only been in contact with the team who airlifted me out of the rainforest, and the guy who brought me here. They could have tagged me with something as well, but Fred will track us to Hawaii before the plane lands. I’ll stash my bag in the trash there. Give him something to keep him busy and off our trail for awhile.”