Chapter 23
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Twenty-Three
For possibly the first time in Adam’s life, the forest felt like a threat.
He had always been aware of the dangers that lurked in any wilderness, from mudslides to parades of carnivorous ants, but going into the woods had still been like coming home.
Which was funny, as he’d barely seen a real forest while growing up in San Francisco.
The epic redwoods that had once stood across the bay in Marin had been stripped away years before he was born, their lumber used to feed the insatiable hunger of the gold rush.
The Dandakaranya was deeply, wildly beautiful.
Tall, graceful trees whispered softly in the light breath of a breeze.
Muntjacs darted through the undergrowth while parakeets soared among the branches.
Insects chirped and buzzed while the sweet scent of flowers danced through the air.
Green life teemed around Adam, fueled by the rich rains of the monsoon.
There would be snakes here. A rogue bull elephant could be a hell of a problem if you crossed it in the wrong mood. Malaria was a risk, along with flooding triggered by heavy downpours.
Adam wasn’t afraid of any of that. It was the forest itself that felt off, despite its undeniable beauty, like a familiar tune sung in the wrong key.
Or maybe it was Adam who was off-key.
The soldiers in Borthwick’s detachment weren’t amateurs. They kept up a hard march through the afternoon, covering miles of terrain—and all the while, Borthwick asked Adam questions.
Where he’d gone to school. What his father thought about tariffs. How his mother was doing. Was she involved in any charity work? Borthwick had a cousin who was friendly with her. Apparently, they went to shows together.
He wanted to know about Adam’s younger brother. What was Ethan’s role in the family business? How often did the two of them get to see each other?
Adam lied about all of it. He lied and lied, and every lie was like tearing the stitch out of an old wound.
That life was closed to him. He’d been booted out of it when he finally made it clear to his father that he could never pretend to be the man George Bates had wanted him to be.
Most of it, Adam had been glad to leave behind.
Some of it had hurt.
Borthwick talked about India. He complained about ‘rebellious tribes.’ Called the Thuggee—the murderous cult that was ostensibly the reason for the existence of his department—a ‘useful exaggeration.’
“The liberals back home haven’t a clue what it’s really like out here. If we need to color things up a bit for them to stomach giving us the tools we need, I won’t lose any sleep over it.”
Adam had agreed that this was an entirely sensible approach.
“After all,” Borthwick went on, “we all know what we’re really after in this godforsaken place. Don’t we?”
Money, Adam heard George Bates reply inside his mind.
The seemingly casual comments were a test that Adam had to pass over and over and over again. He only succeeded because the situation demanded he play precisely the role that he had refused for twenty years of his life.
Refused—or abjectly failed at.
And every time he had failed, his father would tell him why.
Nobody cares what you really think.
Why can’t you take something seriously for once in your life?
Adam knew the script. He had always understood the expectations. He had just fought, blood and bone, for a way to be the kind of man his father could be proud of without losing some sense of his own heart.
It had never worked.
Adam made it work now by setting his heart firmly aside as he answered Borthwick’s questions and nodded along with his casual bigotry.
I’m doing this for a reason, Adam reminded himself. And soon—God, let it be soon—I’ll be able to stop.
Tents sprang up around him like mushrooms. As Borthwick was pulled into the logistics of establishing camp for the night, Adam managed to slip away in the hive-like business.
He burned with the urge to find Ellie. He needed to make sure she was all right—and that she knew he hadn’t meant any of the things he’d said while he was stitching up her leg. That he hadn’t wanted to walk away and leave her there. He had to make sure she understood that none of it was real.
But she’d already know that. This was Ellie. She’d understand that something was off, even if she didn’t yet know why—and she would keep trusting Adam in spite of all of it.
Even if part of him didn’t feel like he deserved it.
Maybe his need to see Ellie was less about reassuring her and more about reminding himself of who he really was—climbing back out of the skin of lies before it strangled him.
Adam found Ellie at the edge of the camp, staring through the tents as though lost in troubled thoughts. Kalb had laid his head in her lap. Ellie’s hand absently stroked his ears.
Adam’s instincts flared. “What’s wrong?”
Ellie looked up at him in surprise. “Nothing. I…” She shook her head as though to clear it. “I just had an unexpected chat with Mr. Jacobs.”
A clean, familiar anger snapped through Adam. He embraced it. “Did he threaten you?”
Ellie removed Kalb’s head from her knee and stood up to join him.
She winced at the movement, and Adam reached out instinctively to catch her.
Placing his hand on her arm was hardly an intimate gesture, but at that slight contact, Adam’s need for her hit him like he’d been wading through a storm and Ellie was a spit of dry land.
Habit demanded that he let go. Adam had barely let himself touch her when other people were around, carefully maintaining the illusion that their relationship was nothing more than friendly.
With a start, he realized that he didn’t have to do that here. Thanks to Jacobs’ lie on the bridge, the soldiers around them—who were barely paying any attention anyway—all thought that Ellie was his wife.
Adam let his grip slide down to her palm and gripped it. The warmth of her skin was a balm.
Ellie squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Jacobs didn’t threaten me. Well—not any more than usual. But he is going to do everything he can to drive us away from here,” she warned.
Urgency snapped through Adam. He needed to use this moment before it was stolen from him. “Ellie… about earlier, when I left you. I…”
With a rustle of leaves, Dawson stumbled out of the forest. The professor drew up short at the sight of Ellie and Adam. “Oh—it’s you,” he noted with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
Adam’s words died in his throat. He faced the man like an untrustworthy bridge. Dawson could easily out them both to Borthwick—which would likely get them shot no matter what Jacobs had to say about it.
The professor brushed at his bush jacket. The garment looked worse for wear since British Honduras. The man’s face was red and sweating under his pith helmet.
With horrified irony, Adam absorbed that his life might actually depend on this moron.
Dawson eyed Adam skeptically. “Mr. Jacobs tells me that you’ve realized your interests and ours are aligned when it comes to this particular mission.”
Adam’s brain scrambled to catch up with the professor’s words.
Jacobs had apparently dealt with the problem that Dawson posed by telling him a story only a full-blown idiot would have failed to see through.
But then, Dawson was a full-blown idiot.
“He… let you know that, did he?” Adam carefully offered back.
Dawson straightened self-importantly. “If you’ll recall, I did come up with that suggestion myself back when we first traveled together in British Honduras. I do tend to be quite prescient about these things.”
“Uh-huh,” Adam returned vaguely.
“I asked him what changed your mind, and he said I ought to just ask you about it.”
Dawson stared at Adam expectantly.
Adam cursed Jacobs. He’d bet good money the bastard had done that deliberately.
Ellie had warned him that Jacobs planned to make their lives uncomfortable. Nobody had ever accused him of being bad at his job.
“I must’ve just… thought a bit more about what you said,” Adam offered awkwardly.
“As well you should,” Dawson easily agreed.
“I know we’ve had our little troubles in the past, but it’s nothing we can’t put behind us, being reasonable and well-educated gentlemen.
Mr. Jacobs isn’t exactly scholarly in his inclinations, as you well know, and the colonel is always busy.
It will be nice to know that there’s one person in this camp with whom I can engage in civilized conversation about scientific and historical matters. ”
Standing right next to Adam, Ellie’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Right. Yeah.” Adam hooked a hand through Ellie’s arm—in case she was considering trying to stab Dawson with a stick. “Sounds great.”
“Speaking of which,” Dawson continued, brightening. “I’ve been working on a very interesting theory about the influence of hermit crabs on Indian temple architecture—”
“Mr. Bates?”
Adam turned to find Borthwick’s lieutenant, Singh Rao, waiting behind him.
“The colonel would like to see you, sir,” the stoic officer reported.
Adam almost felt relieved at being summoned by Borthwick… but then, maybe navigating a web of lies was still preferable to hearing Dawson talk about hermit crabs.
“You go on,” Dawson gracefully allowed. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to catch up later.”
Adam forced a smile through gritted teeth. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Dawson strolled off, whistling tunelessly.
“That man…” Ellie began dangerously, glaring after him.
“…is a jackass,” Adam filled in.
Singh Rao gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a barely suppressed laugh.
Adam glanced back at him, but the subedar had straightened, pulling his face back into its usual sober mien.
“If you would?” Singh Rao gestured him forward.
Adam squeezed Ellie’s hand, willing his grip to communicate the words he couldn’t say.
Ellie squeezed back, her gaze steady as Adam let her go.