Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
She smelled fine—a little feverish, a little tired, that metallic yellow tang a little deeper, but still delicious.
The next moment she was on the floor, and the bolt of smoke-sick through her scent twisted Reese’s own stomach, hard.
As soon as he ran back to the range to get the goddamn bacon set aside, she tried to get up from the couch again.
She didn’t thrash when he eased her back down, but she was sweating even worse now, her half-lidded eyes glassy and her smell flaring unpredictably.
Penicillin? Hospital? He flicked through the alternatives, desperately, and almost didn’t notice the subtle change in the sounds outside.
Once he did, though, it was impossible to ignore.
Damn.
“Holly.” Soft and inflexible. “Holly, sweetheart, I need you to listen to me.”
It could be a deer, wolf. Coyote. Nothing else would be out in this goddamn weather, right? Any animal with sense would stay inside. He could get out to the shed, get the snowmobile fixed up—but if he left her, what was she likely to do?
It wasn’t wildlife. He knew what it was.
Holly subsided. Glittering eyes, the fever burning her—he’d have to do something to bring it down. The shock of rolling her in snow wouldn’t help. The shower, then.
First he had to take care of outside.
“I have to get something for you.” A lie, but a good one if it kept her stationary. “I need you to stay here. Right here, okay?” Two guns, the knives and his wits. The hiking boots were all right, and he shrugged into his coat. “Stay on the couch,” he told her. Maybe she’d even listen.
The only reply he got was a slurred mutter that might have been his name.
Jesus Christ.
Reese didn’t move right away. Instead, he closed his eyes, listening.
Smart was the way to play this one. Advantages were on his side—he knew the ground, so all he had to do was outwait and outthink.
The curtains were all drawn, both to save heat and discourage someone with a high-powered rifle from solving a long-range problem or two.
Any agent out there had to know he’d hear, and might also know. .. what?
Holly made a restless movement, and Reese heard the footsteps. Deliberate crunching, breaking icy crust. Sounded like cleats—not a bad choice for this goddamn weather, but savagely tiring and would make him lose on agility.
The bastard was aiming right for the front door. Making no goddamn attempt to be quiet, even.
What the hell?
The tiny strip of porch shuddered as the visitor clumped up. Crunch, crunch, crunch on the ice, right to the door.
Knocking, then, light and authoritative. Shave and a haircut, two bits.
So he’s got a sense of humor.
Then, a voice. “You gonna pretend you don’t notice me?” Male, about Reese’s age, and the pulse was perfectly even. Nice and controlled, no bloodlust. “I’m here to help. You might as well let me in.”
Here to help? That’ll be the day.
It was a ballsy move, walking right up. Reese could admire the sonofabitch, even if he had to kill him.
Holly cried out, weakly. Reese still hesitated, barely even breathing. There was no good tactical or strategic reason for the other agent to come right up to the front door and announce himself, for God’s sake.
“I won’t touch the girl, I swear. I just want to talk to you. You’re a hard man to catch, you know that?” Amused now. No change in pulse or respiration.
Reese ghosted across the cabin—a calculated risk, but he already had the 9mm free. The temperature outside would keep a body from rotting right away, should it become necessary. If all else failed he could rifle the other agent for cash and spare supplies before—
He jerked the door open, gun leveled, nerves stretched tight.
Standing carefully back from the door, gloved hands raised, the other agent peered out from under a thick knitted cap.
He took a deep sniff and nodded slightly, keeping his empty hands up and stock-still.
Sandy hair, bright pale blue eyes, the wispy beginning of a beard.
Looked as though he’d been roughing it for a few days.
Reese’s senses strained. He could hear, smell, sense nothing behind the man save pines, deep snow, dry-oily animals hidden in burrows, a hint of smoke from the cabin’s stove.
“I’m alone,” the other agent said. “Been offgrid for a few days now. No tails I can make out.”
“Tracker?” That was the first problem; there was no shortage of others.
“Dug it out first thing, stuck it down a feral cat’s throat with some tuna.” The blond man’s grin stayed just the same, or perhaps a shade self-satisfied now. “They’ll be chasing it awhile.”
“Elegant solution.” Reese took another deep breath, searching for any wrong note. “I’m a little busy here.”
“I can tell.” Blue eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtfully, though the man’s pulse didn’t alter. “You poor bastard. I bet you don’t even know why she smells so good.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “Oh?”
“Relax, Reese. I’m not after your girl.” The pack at the agent’s feet was snow-spotted and zipped open, so Reese could see inside.
How far had this guy hiked in? There would be a trail, at least until it snowed again.
Which, judging by the smell, would be soon.
“I’m here because I want to live. Same as you. ”
There was a slithering sound behind Reese.
Blankets, hitting the floor. A creak of springs as Holly tried to lever herself off the couch again.
She just wouldn’t stay down, but then, he knew that about her, didn’t he?
A woman who would hold a dying man’s hand until he was loaded into the ambulance, a woman who would tell an agent he was real, a woman who would quietly give extra peppermints to even the worst kids wouldn’t stop.
It wasn’t in her.
Goddammit. Nothing for it, then. “You smell familiar. We went to the same base for blood draws and psych evals.”
“Yeah. I’m Cal, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
“You might not think that in a little while.” Reese was satisfied the man was alone, at least. He knew firsthand just how dangerous an agent could be. He’d have to kill this one the instant a twitch, a single breath was out of place.
“I’ll take my chances. They’re not wrapping up the program.
” Cal’s cheeks were roughened with windburn, and a subconscious muscle at the floor of Reese’s brain relaxed.
“Heming went crazy, and you were incidental. But they’re definitely reconsidering.
Two reasons—emotional noise and possible contagion vectors. ”
Reese lowered the gun. Damn. “Kick that pack over so I can see what’s in it. And take those off before you come inside.” He backed up a few steps. “You make one wrong move, and you’re dead.”
“Story of my life, man.” The other agent bent, slowly, carefully, and something else clicked in Reese’s head.
The pack wasn’t full—and there were manila folders and files in its maw, spotted with moisture but looking pretty legit.
The mauve ones that looked familiar, the red ones didn’t.
Knives, a 9mm of his own, ammo, a couple other bits he recognized immediately as agent kit that wouldn’t have trace capability.
Which moved this Cal from active threat to the question mark category. Reese decided to push a little further. “What happened to yours? The one that smelled good?” A shot in the dark.
Cal glanced up, blue gaze flat and cold.
“Haven’t met her yet. I was friends with a nice enough girl, though, and they dusted her while coming for me.
” He began working at the cleats strapped to his hiking boots.
Wet to the thighs—he’d waded through the creek, probably working back and forth to confuse his trail.
He smelled hungry, and his cheekbones stood out just like Reese’s after a week or so of hard living. “Is that bacon?”
“You play your cards right, you might get some.” And survive long enough to eat it.
A soft thump. Holly made another hurt little sound, and Reese decided. The gun lowered still further; he backed up a little more, edging crabways for her. She’d tried to get up again, and was muttering about someone named Doug.
“Shh, baby.” He tucked her in again, despite her irritable pushing the covers away. Glanced at the other agent, who stepped carefully in as if he didn’t quite believe his luck. “Shut the goddamn door. And tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
* * *
First things first. The scar on Cal’s hip was pink-fresh and the other agent manipulated the flesh, pulling and stretching so Reese could see there was no telltale bump underneath. He even smelled right. Either the other agent’s glandular control was absolutely perfect, or he was telling the truth.
Holly, sweat-drenched and tossing, made a low hurt sound. Reese’s stomach threatened to clench, and he could smell his own worry. No doubt the other agent could, too.
Cal eyed her, though he didn’t even try to approach. “Yeah. She’s got it.”
“I infected her.” The sick twisting in Reese’s stomach wouldn’t go away.
“What did you think made her smell so tasty? The little assholes know who they have a chance of surviving in.”
Christ. “How do you know?”
“Because they botched coming for me, so I did an infiltrate onbase and snitched some files.” Cal shrugged, a loose fluid motion. “Just like you might have.”
“Smart.” And suicidal. “You want to burn them as bad as I do?”
“Worse.” A flash of dull rage broke through the other man’s smiling facade. “If it makes you feel better, she’s got a seventy percent chance.”
“She’d better.” Because if something... if she... He refused to even finish the thought.
Holly’s eyelids flew up. “Phillip?” she whispered, staring at the ceiling. Thin tracers of steam rose from her forehead; she’d already sweated through her tank top, cotton clinging to her torso as her hands lifted. “Don’t do that. Don’t.”
“Shh, sweetheart.” He kept an eye on Cal just in case, slowly sank down to one knee, caught one of her hands. “It’s all right. I’m here.”
“She’ll need fluids and proteins when she wakes up. Vitamin C.” Cal was clearly in a generous mood, giving so much information. “You’d better figure out if you can trust me so you don’t have to look over your shoulder the whole time.”
I know. I’ll do what I have to. “It’s all right,” he soothed, and Holly subsided.
“Reese?” Her hand bit his with surprising, hysterical strength. “It hurtsss…” Ending on a low hiss of breath.
Christ. “I know, honey. It’ll be over soon.”
“Ninety... ninety percent collateral, she said they were... I’m sick.
” Fading into a murmur, her lids dropping to half-mast. Crescents of bruised flesh stood out underneath her glittering eyes, and that wonderful smell of hers spread in tsunami waves, underlaid with smoke-burning sickness and that weird metallic note.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her. Maybe he was lying.
Cal shifted his weight, and Reese twitched. The other man stepped back, hands up and loose, very carefully.
“Relax,” he said. “Just come down out of the red, okay? I am here to help.”
You’d better be. Reese didn’t bother saying it. “Get some water, and a couple towels. And since you know what the hell, start explaining.”