Chapter 7

 

In Hope’s mind the worst fifteen minutes of her life kept shifting and sliding like an avalanche scrubbing away the side of a mountain. Being chased by Owen had been surpassed by nearly killing him. The uncertainty of waiting for him to deal with the people looking for him had been eclipsed by seeing him return, face battered and a deep, scorched furrow across his hip where a bullet had come too close to its target.

His eyes had brightened when he saw she’d stayed. Something between relief and satisfaction had moved across his face, charming her as he escorted her as quietly as possible to her campsite and truck. The triumphant smile was gruesome, twisted by a heavy blow that left him with a split and swollen lip. Ugly colors would soon cast shadows along that gold-dusted jawline. More kisses would have to wait a while, she thought with some regret.

Logically, she’d never be able to explain why she suddenly cared so much for a man who’d nearly killed her. Since he’d come out of the fever, clearly a different man, her attraction and curiosity were impossible to ignore. She already knew her heart was in jeopardy here, and in the hands of a dangerous man, but intuition told her to stick with him. Regardless of how or why their paths had crossed, a new awareness deep inside kept insisting she was exactly where she needed to be.

While she’d waited for his return, she searched the camper for supplies. After refilling their water bottles and canteen, she stuffed a bag of cookies and a jar of peanut butter into her pack. Finding a first aid kit under the sink, she took that as well and left some cash on the counter to cover the replacements.

Once she was sure they were clear, she’d call the campground and have them use her credit card to pay for the mint-green camper’s stay as well. Right now, she was set on finding medical attention for Owen. Though he kept cracking jokes, he needed more than the first aid she could offer. She feared the safest place to spend the night would be out under the stars. She wouldn’t put him through that until she knew the full extent of his injuries.

“I’m fine, Hope.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“True enough.” He used the towel to blot at the worst of it again. “It should stop soon.”

“Not if the past few days are any indication,” she murmured.

Of course he’d heard her. “I think I’m through the worst of it. Whatever they put inside me as a kill switch didn’t work. Obviously. Based on what you’ve told me, I’m guessing whatever poison they used got washed away by the creek when you took me down.” He flipped down the mirror on the visor. “I look like hell, but I actually feel pretty good.”

It was a lot to take in. Every new detail he shared while she drove made her wonder what this covert group was really up to and what it meant for him. And her. Was there anywhere to turn for help?

“I can hear you worrying.” The words came out a bit slurred due to the swelling at his mouth.

“You can?” How and why would they give a super-soldier telepathy?

“No, not really.” He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “It’s all over your face. I’ll be fine.”

“You need a doctor,” she insisted. Alcohol swabs were hardly standard protocol for gunshot wounds. “The pain is all over your face.”

He shrugged. “The other guys are worse.”

The other guys were dead. Kill or be killed, he’d explained. He’d said he didn’t mind dying, but it had been the only way to guarantee her safety from the group that had derailed his life for their own, mysterious agenda. Having seen Owen under their influence, she hoped never to meet any other enhanced operators.

“Will they treat me without calling the tribal police?” he asked. “You’ve pointed out how poorly I blend in around here.”

She didn’t know. “My name carries some influence. I’ll tell them you’re my assistant and you fell while we were out working.”

“Did your last assistant frequently trip and fall into bullets?”

The response startled a laugh out of her. She didn’t mention the clinic would want identification, one more thing he didn’t have. Odds were high the clinic would call the authorities no matter what she said.

Reaching an unmarked intersection, she turned toward the cluster of businesses that made up a tiny town center two miles ahead. “Almost there,” she said.

“I’m fi—” Owen winced. “Slow down,” he said, cupping his hands over his ears.

He didn’t look fine. “What’s happening?” She pulled to a stop on the side of the road. He’d told her the UI doctors had tweaked his sight and hearing. Had the fight exacerbated something else?

 

 

“There’s static in my ear.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his skull just above his ears. “Feels like a radio tuned to white noise is pumping straight to my brain.” He pushed out of the truck and bent over, shaking his head like a big dog. “My comm is offline. They shouldn’t be able to mess with me.”

She cut the engine and scrambled across the seat and out of the truck to stand with him. Her hand on his back, felt the tremors in his muscles as he fought something neither of them could see. “The doctors will help.” With any luck, the promise wouldn’t be as empty as it felt.

“Hope.” He straightened, tipped his head to the sky, eyes closed. On a deep inhale and long exhale, the tension eased from under her hand.

She hugged herself as he paced away from her. He headed toward the town, then back again. When he stopped, she noticed he held his breath for a few seconds while he scanned the horizon.

“The sound isn’t inside my head.” He didn’t sound too relieved by the fact. Shuffling off the road into the ditch, he tugged her along with him, and crouched lower still.

“Give me my gun,” he said.

“What? Why?” She started to rise, to search out whatever had spooked him. He yanked her back against his body.

“How many clinics are on the reservation?”

“Three.”

“And this one is the closest to where I first saw you?”

She handed him his pistol. “Yes.”

“I was afraid of that.” He checked the magazine, made sure there was a round in the chamber. “We can’t go any closer.”

“Owen, you need a doctor,” she protested.

“I can’t explain the dread between my shoulder blades,” he replied. “But I know if we go any closer, we’ll both be in more danger that we faced at the campground.”

She respected intuition and instinct and she sure didn’t want another round of the stress she’d endured at the campground. “You need a decent meal and medical attention. Those wounds aren’t healing…” Her voice trailed off as she gently turned his chin to get a better look. “Hang on.” She retrieved a bottle of water from the truck and poured a little over her fingertips to gently rinse the area behind his ear.

“What are you doing?”

“This one is finally starting to heal. It’s red, but closed now.”

“One more theory confirmed,” he muttered, his gaze was roaming over the landscape. “They gave me some kind of boost for fast healing. If most of the poison was lost in the creek, I guess the healing stuff is taking over now.”

A healing booster made sense, based on the way he’d been running that first day. No normal body could keep that pace so effortlessly, without missing a step or stride. She couldn’t imagine the years of research required for that sort of breakthrough, couldn’t stomach the idea of testing formulas on real people the way Owen had described. She’d never been happier about being a photographer rather than a scientist. “Guess that’s the silver lining.”

“Guess so.” He lifted his chin toward the tree-dotted rise to the east. “Any chance of hiding up there?”

“On foot or in the truck, we’ll draw the attention of anyone watching from town.” She wished, not for the first time, that she’d been shooting the canyon this week rather than the migrating longspurs on the eastern side of the res. Of course, if she’d done that she wouldn’t have met Owen. “I have a better idea.”

“Then let’s do it.” He winced, shying away from the road. “A vehicle is heading this way.”

She shrugged out of her field jacket while he tucked himself between the dashboard and the seat. Putting the truck in Reverse, she backed up a few yards before turning the car around. She kept to the speed limit as a black SUV surged up from the direction of town and blew past her in a swirl of dust. A dark sedan followed. At the intersection, she watched both vehicles turn in the direction of the campground.

Waiting until the two vehicles were well out of sight, she used roads too remote to name, heading north and west, passing fields greening up with spring. “You can sit up now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” She jerked a thumb to the day pack behind the seat. “Help yourself to peanut butter and cookies. It will be an hour before we get there, longer before food’s ready.”

“Tell me it’s not another town.”

“You think they put teams all over the reservation?” she asked. “You must be invaluable to the program.”

“To the program I’m just a tool that’s gone offline. Based on what the pair at the campground said, they want me dead. No, it’s the ambient noise that got to me.”

He’d told her his hearing had been enhanced, along with his vision and fitness. “Wow. I didn’t think we were that close.”

“Me either. I’ll work on it.” His voice full of discouragement, he added, “The labs were loud. I got used to that, I’ll figure out how to adjust in the real world.”

“Earplugs?”

“Maybe.”

She glanced over, caught the barest hint of a smile on his face. “We’re not going anywhere near a town,” she said. “The worst you’ll have to deal with is my grandma’s voice and that’s only if she’s home.”

“Sounds like heaven.”

Hope had always thought so. “What will you do now?”

“Once I’m sure they aren’t on your trail, I guess I’ll wander,” he said. “I doubt it’s safe to settle anywhere and I have no idea where to look for help. Who would believe this?”

“I believed you.”

“Only because you’re living it.”

What she’d seen, what he said he’d survived and done in the aftermath was more than bizarre. “It’s a tough sell,” she agreed. But she didn’t like the idea of him surviving a place like that, a place that had stolen his life and identity and almost taken his humanity as well, only to wander through the rest of his life alone.

“We’ll figure it out.” Determination had her sitting up straighter.

“We? You barely know me, Hope.”

She thought about the kiss, about his protective streak once he’d come out from the influence of whatever they’d been giving him. “What I know so far is promising.”

He laughed. “Same goes.”

*

 

Scott, driving a truck from Jaime’s ranch, pulled off the road a hundred yards from the site where the truck had been attacked. The ground was scorched, and a wealth of footprints circled and crisscrossed the area. Which set belonged to Owen was the primary question.

Duke, one of Hank Patterson’s men, had joined Scott and Ben on this manhunt. Born and raised in the area, he had a better chance of pinpointing Owen’s trail. Ben, completely invisible now, was handling the search in his own way.

“It doesn’t freak you out?” Duke asked, keeping his voice low as he and Scott studied the prints on the ground.

“Took some time to adjust,” Scott admitted. “Visible or not, Ben’s a good guy to have at your back.”

“Uh-huh.” Duke knelt down, comparing the remnants of the scene with the photos Amelia had copied from the Montana Highway Patrol database. “I never gave the super-soldier rumors any credit. But Ben?” He gave a low whistle. “That proves me wrong. This sick UI group didn’t do anything to you?”

“Other than stealing me out of prison and making sure I can’t use my real name anymore?”

“Yeah, other than.”

John insisted on keeping the full details and scope of the UI program and its operators a secret. He’d given warnings to Patterson’s men without offering specifics. The longer Scott stuck with John and Amelia and the more he learned about the no-limits research UI conducted on men and women, the more committed he was to John’s goal of eliminating the program.

“They managed to tag me with a high-tech tracking device,” Scott said. “That was deactivated as soon as Ben found me. John had it worse, spending years in the UI system.”

“Civilian life looks good on him,” Duke said.

“Agreed. They were on the run a long time. Having a home base now, having Ben and I go out in the field is the break he needed.”

“We all need someone at our backs,” Duke said. “Can you tell me anything more about the man we’re going after?”

“Harbison has only been in the UI system for a few months. That said, the intel Amelia found is troubling.”

“They’re rushing the enhancement process now,” Ben joined the conversation from Scott’s right side.

Duke gave a start at the disembodied voice, but kept his cool. “What does that mean?”

“New tech, new chemicals, new capabilities. When John and I were in the system there was more oversight from selection, through test strategy, to culling failed subjects. Now, it’s a free for all.”

Duke stood, turned to the east, a hand shading his eyes. “How so?”

“New tech and chemicals, man,” Ben repeated cryptically. “Just ’cause you know how to do something, doesn’t mean you should actually go through with it.”

“So we really could be up against anything out here, from the lost operative to curious tribal police.”

“Cool, right?” Ben said with the enthusiasm of a kid on his way to a birthday party. “Whatcha think?”

“I think the scorching, the way the truck landed, it had to be one precise shot. From a distance, I imagine.”

“That fits Owen,” Scott said. “My money’s on the rise.” He pointed. “Sit, wait, shoot.”

Duke turned to look across the highway. “Smart tactic. According to the report the truck was empty, just the two dead men with fake IDs.”

Scott didn’t volunteer the intel about the weapons. “We just need to know how Owen got in and out of here.”

“He ran,” Ben said. “Ran out, at least.”

“How do you know that?”

“I went up to the rise, found the nest. There’s a trail from the highway to the nest. Less of a trail heading east from the nest. His extraction must have been set for a different road.”

“Not many of those out here,” Duke said. “They would have done better to give him a horse. A white guy on foot would draw too much attention if he got lost or turned the wrong way.”

“Owen had a perfect sense of direction.”

“Well, then.” Duke squinted toward the eastern horizon. “I’ll get the drone up and we’ll scope the area around the nest.” It was only a matter of minutes until they could say with confidence that Owen had aimed almost due east.

Scott called in the update to John and Amelia explained they would likely be switching to radio due to the sketchy cell signals. “We can’t drive it,” Duke said. “Not directly. Unless you want a meet and greet with nature, the tribal police or both.”

“Not ideal.” Ben muttered, the grass bending under his footfalls was the only indication of his presence.

They all loaded back into the truck and Scott drove while Duke navigated the available roads, stopping periodically to see what they could find of Owen’s trail. The recent storm worked against them, but they found enough possible clues to stay the course. Scott hoped like hell they were on the right track as the truck bounced over rutted washouts and barely cleared paths that were supposedly roadways.

The pictures of the two victims found at the panel truck accident site kept popping into his mind. If UI had turned Owen into a cold-blooded killer Scott vowed that the man in the gray suit running UI would pay.

When they parked and sent up the drone again they were baffled at the complete lack of a trail. They’d been so sure of his course and had pinpointed a likely rendezvous zone based on Ben’s knowledge of the agency’s standard tactics.

“Amelia might be right about lost,” Ben said. “Either that or he was diverted or killed,” Ben continued while Duke worked the drone. “The fake news Messenger fed the media could have gotten this far.”

None of that gave Scott any hope or comfort, but he refused to give up. If the roles were reversed, Owen wouldn’t stop looking. “What now?” he asked.

Duke consulted the views from the drone, urging Scott and Ben to take a look. “The rain the other night washed out most signs. This campsite,” he tapped the screen. “Maybe whoever is out there saw your friend.”

The long hike proved fruitless. The campsite had clearly been abandoned and ransacked by the elements or—and Scott didn’t want to dwell on the option—a man with an agenda. Gear had been tossed about and there was no sign of food or water.

While the three of them trudged back to the truck, discouraged and frustrated, Scott’s radio crackled. The urgency was clear in John’s voice as he asked for an update. Scott explained their progress and position.

“Good, you’re close,” John said. “Amelia caught wind of trouble at a public campground a couple hours ago. Can you get over there?”

“We’re on the way,” Scott said, breaking into a jog when the truck came into view. “Ben? You with us?”

The truck door opened, apparently on its own. “Way ahead of you, kid.”

With the drone secure in the truck bed, they made their way to the campground, only to drive right on by the intersection at Ben’s sudden insistence.

“What the hell?” Scott asked. “John said—”

A ball cap smacked his shoulder. “Put that on,” Ben said. “You can’t show your face anywhere near here, kid. That was Messenger’s personal car. Get the boss on the radio.”

“What’s wrong?” John’s voice filled the cab.

“Messenger’s here,” Ben said. “Too hot for the kid.”

John’s response was simple, violent and succinct. “So, all parties believe Harbison’s still on the reservation.”

“Let me go in for a listen,” Ben offered.

Scott wanted to protest Ben going in alone, but the risks were too great. If Messenger realized Scott wasn’t dead they would all be in jeopardy. Duke and Patterson’s team would surely come under the hateful eye and dangerously long reach of Messenger if they were caught helping John and Amelia.

After a few minutes of radio silence, John replied, agreeing with the plan. Duke directed them down a canal track to get Ben closer to the campground without the truck being seen.

Waiting, hiding, was the worst. Feeling useless, Scott was grateful Duke wasn’t the chatty sort because he wasn’t capable of civil conversation during the interminable hour until Ben made some noise to warn them of his approach.

“Everyone was out of the office,” Ben began. “So I made a copy of the register.” A paper materialized. “Messenger’s asshats checked in with a rented RV two days ago.

“That helps us how?” Scott wondered, scanning the page for any familiar names. They needed solid intel and a better lead. “Owen would hardly check in at the office.”

“Not if he’s smart. The trouble up there is two dead bodies. Tribal police said they got an anonymous tip about it.”

Duke whistled.

“Exactly,” Ben said. “I peeked at the scene. Both Messenger’s men, but no sign of Harbison. One was a guy they called Bruce. No way a regular guy takes out someone with Bruce’s skill set.”

“Do I want to know?” Duke asked.

“No,” Scott and Ben answered in unison.

The truck shifted as Ben climbed into the bed. “We’re in the right place,” he said through the window. “And I found this.” A cell phone appeared and dropped onto the seat. “Amelia’s gonna kiss me when she gets a load of this,” Ben said with pride.

Scott snorted. “And then John will kill you.”

“Has to catch me first,” Ben replied.

“In other news, I heard the managers talking. They were concerned about this Hope Small person. She went out several days ago and hasn’t been seen since.”

“Hope Small is a wildlife photographer.” Duke flicked the corner of the page near her name. “She’s a local celebrity around here, having been raised on the reservation.”

“Interesting, but where does that leave us?” Scott wondered aloud.

“Might have been her camp that was ransacked and abandoned,” Ben added.

Scott didn’t like the direction of this theory, it hit too close to home. He gripped the steering wheel hard. “Owen wasn’t here targeting her. We know he was here to take out that truck.”

“Uh-huh,” Ben said. “And we know UI’s policy about witnesses.”

“You think he took a hostage or found an ally?” Duke asked.

“Depends.” Scott sighed. “The Owen Harbison I served with wouldn’t hurt an innocent person.”

“He’s been with UI for months, kid. No one else out here could take out Bruce. I keep telling you, you can’t know what he’d do now.”

Scott didn’t need to hear this again. The last thing they needed was to make Duke edgy enough to shoot first and ask questions later when they found Owen. “I need to find him,” he said. “I need to look him in the eye and see if there’s any piece of my friend left.”

“Damn straight,” Ben agreed. “But where do we start looking? If your friend was smart, he interrogated those idiots before he killed them and he’ll steer clear of populated areas. If UI knew how to find him, we could tag along, but they don’t have a clue.”

“I might,” Duke said, thoughtfully. “It’s a long shot, but if Hope is with him—willingly or not—I have an idea where she might go.”

Scott started the car and aimed for the main road. “Point the way, man.”