At the Merest Glance Read online

  Questions she didn’t have any answers to, but she certainly enjoyed the kiss.

  Chapter 11

  Anton lay awake in his bed at the Ship Inn.

  He’d had no sleep in two nights, and now it was noon in Mousehole. Which was seven a.m. in San Antonio, by which time he’d be finishing his morning workout and scouting around for breakfast. His body definitely didn’t know which way was up.

  And his thoughts wouldn’t shut up.

  It wasn’t the kind of problem he normally had. As a kid, Michelle would lose a night’s sleep, or several nights’ worth when she was worrying at something. He’d always felt that it was his brotherly duty to rub in the fact that it never happened to him.

  But now, when exhaustion should have dragged him under long ago, his thoughts were swirling.

  He’d tried pretending it was analyzing the mission.

  It had shifted like slippery ice. One moment their assignment was about testing the various cables’ security in the UK. And the next it was about just who Chas Thorstad might be and what in tarnation he was up to.

  Colonel Gibson had probably started them out on the wrong beach intentionally, just to see how long it would take the average person to unravel what was going on. But they weren’t the average team, especially not since he’d spotted Katie watching the badgers. Without that, they might not have picked up on Chas as a target.

  Chance?

  Yet chance had played strongly in Shadow Force: Psi’s favor more than seemed likely. He was sure that Isobel would have some deep thoughts on that, but he had no idea what they could be.

  Chance or whatever weird force that was acting in their favor had also brought Katie into their circle. He had no more complaints about that than a hound dog at a hamburger joint.

  He sighed.

  No real question about what was keeping him awake.

  Chas Thorstad could have a ship’s mast up his butt for all Anton cared.

  Katie Whitfield. Damn but that woman had the sweetest kiss. He’d wanted to invite her back to his room when they returned to Mousehole. Or maybe he should have offered to escort her to hers to…make sure she got back safely? Like Mousehole was such a dangerous place. The main hazard he saw was a chance of collapsing into a state of semi-bucolic bliss and never moving again.

  But if he had, maybe she would have invited him in.

  Or was it too soon?

  Or—

  “Shit but you’re a mess, Anton Bowman.” No one argued with his assessment.

  Sleep.

  If he could just stop thinking and sleep, then he’d—

  A fist thumped on his door. He’d recognize Michelle’s graceless knock anywhere. She didn’t just breeze into his room.

  “Yo.” He was too tired to do more, but it was enough.

  She swung the door just partway open, then peeked in carefully. “You’re alone.”

  “Don’t sound so damned surprised.”

  “Why didn’t you just jump her?” Michelle came the rest of the way in and sat at the foot of his bed.

  “Because I’m a decent, thoughtful kind of guy.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since…” Well, he tried to be decent and thoughtful, though he’d never found it difficult to entice a woman into his bed. Since he’d never found a reason to complain about it, he took happy advantage of it. Typically. “Since this time?”

  Michelle made a thoughtful humming tone deep in her throat, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping, or screwing Ricardo?”

  “Did the latter,” she bragged, “then was doing the former when Ricardo rousted me.”

  “So he’s insatiable. Congratulations.”

  “He is,” she rubbed it in, “and so am I, so that works. But he woke me telepathically. He, Hannah, and Katie were patrolling the town. They found where Chas Thorstad was staying.”

  That had Anton sitting up. The room only spun a little from lack of sleep. “So bust his ass and find out what he’s up to.”

  “Where he was staying. He’s bolted.”

  “Aw shit.” Anton flopped back onto the bed.

  “But the landlady overheard where he was going. Wouldn’t talk to us, of course, but she and Katie go way back.”

  Anton waited, knowing Michelle wouldn’t be able to resist telling him.

  “Time to go back to the motherland, semi-demi-dram-bro.”

  “San Antonio? Damn but that’s great news.” For that, he’d get up and pack right now—awful plane ride be damned.

  “Dakar, Senegal.”

  He had to think to even remember where the hell that was.

  “Westernmost tip of the bulge into the Atlantic,” Michelle said it like he was an idiot.

  “West Africa, I knew that.” At least he was pretty sure he had at some point. “That’s not the motherland. Pa’s people were from…” He couldn’t remember. He remembered that they’d arrived a century before American Independence.

  “Goree,” Michelle provided.

  “Right. That’s what Grandma Bowman traced us back to.”

  “Traced you, Anton. Remember we’re not related. Goree Island was the slave trading post in Dakar, Senegal.”

  “Oh,” he shrugged. He’d never been particularly hyped on family history. He was far more bothered by Michelle declaring they weren’t related. He wanted to ask her about Katie, but now she’d made it feel all weird. “When are we out of here?”

  She looked at her watch. “Let’s see. Ricardo woke me up about an hour ago. Hannah got us a flight out of Land’s End Airport about ten minutes after that. So you’d better pack fast, you’ve got about five minutes, then we leave without you.”

  “Goddamn it, Missy. You’ve known for an hour and you give me five minutes notice?” He shoved up out of bed and hurried to the dresser to pack.

  He was half done when reality slammed in.

  They were leaving.

  And Michelle hadn’t even left him time to track down Katie and say goodbye.

  He spun to face the door, but his stepsister was already gone.

  God damn it! He wished they really weren’t related.

  “Do you have a yellow fever vaccination?”

  “Um, yes.” Katie didn’t know why Hannah was asking. She’d barely gotten back to her room after they’d figured out where Chas had gone before Hannah had knocked on her door.

  As soon as they’d found out Chas had left town she knew it was over. Shadow Force: Psi would be moving on, and she’d be getting her life back. She was far too exhausted to decide if it was a good thing or a bad one.

  “How light do you travel?”

  “Pretty light,” she pointed at her field pack.

  Travel? Her whole life fit in there. With room to spare. Was that traveling light or living like the nomad she’d become? She felt as if she left even less impression on the Earth than when she was wearing her moccasins.

  Tracking wasn’t a high-equipment career: a GPS device backed up by a good compass just in case, batteries, water bottles, and sunscreen. Her one luxury was her night-vision monocular, but she didn’t need more than small, lightweight binoculars. A couple changes of clothes and some foul-weather gear.

  All she had to show for a life.

  No villa in Nice. No apartment in New York. No multi-floor condo right in London’s core. None of the trappings her parents considered so essential to maintain their status—the only thing they really cared about.

  “Do you have a current passport?”

  Katie nodded, still not awake enough to figure out what was going on.

  “Isobel wants to know how you feel about traveling with us for a bit?”

  “To…” she recalled what Dora had said about overhearing Chas’s destination. Classic Dora, her best friend jumped straight to the wrong conclusion. She was the one who had sent Chas to her when he’d asked about a guide. Now she “sensed” that Katie had finally discovered her soulmate in Chas Thorstad and the universe wanted her
to chase after him. Which, she realized, was exactly what Hannah was asking her to do. At least the chasing-after part.

  To Dakar?

  With Shadow Force: Psi?

  Was that a journey she wanted to risk? Hope had never been more than a dangerous companion. Some overly needy sliver of her soul thought about what it would be like spending time with these people. Hanging with three of the most amazing women she’d ever met.

  Even now, Hannah’s patience as Katie tried to process the options revealed a deep kindness.

  And then there was Anton.

  It was pretty obvious what direction their relationship was headed if they spent more time together. She’d thought seriously about following him to Ship Inn before Hannah had pulled her aside and started asking about where Chas was staying.

  Was that something she wanted?

  There was no point in thinking about it lasting. But did she want it to even start?

  A trail begins, Katie remembered. It progresses. The important task isn’t to interpret the trail’s intent. The important task is to follow it in the moment and see where it leads.

  She pushed to her feet. “How long do I have?”

  “Enough time, just be quick,” then Hannah was gone.

  Chapter 12

  Anton was the first to reach their car parked out on the Mousehole breakwater—no parking along the narrow streets near Ship Inn.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was still sitting on the seawall when Jesse showed up.

  “If you’re thinking getting here so fast earns you a seat up front beside my wife, you got some rethinking to do there, pard.”

  “Just trying to show you up, you lazy cowboy. Don’t you ever move above a mosey?” That’s when Anton figured out that Michelle had been messing with him, giving him plenty of warning but telling him he didn’t have any time.

  Time that he could have used saying goodbye to—

  He spotted Michelle’s jaunty stride coming around the turn of the breakwater.

  Anton pushed to his feet and strode up to her until he blocked her way toe-to-toe.

  “Hey, you’re early,” she grinned at him, enjoying her joke.

  “You fucking bitch!”

  She blinked in surprise and stumbled backward.

  He stepped right up to her again. “You couldn’t just tell me I had plenty of time, could you? So damned pleased with your goddamn games that I lost the chance to go find Katie and at least say goodbye.”

  Michelle’s face shifted to horror. It took all of his restraint to not grab her by the throat and toss her off the seawall.

  “Didn’t think of that, did you?”

  “Oh God, Anton. I’m so sorry. I didn’t. I swear I never would—”

  “Done, Michelle. I’m just so goddamn done with you.”

  She opened her mouth in shock, but the only sound to come out was a small squeak of distress.

  He turned away, past where Jesse waited by the car. Anton leaned on the seawall and stared out to sea. He couldn’t bear to turn and face Mousehole.

  Katie was there…somewhere. Behind him. In the town he’d never had a chance to explore.

  No way in hell would she forgive him for simply disappearing.

  Maybe if he’d thought to write her a note, the Ship Inn’s bartender could have delivered it for him. Not that he’d ever been all that magical with the written word, but goddamn it, he would have tried.

  He didn’t even have her number. No way to find her.

  She’d sleep off the last thirty-six hours, wake up to find him gone, and write him off forever. She’d know for a fact that he’d totally used her to find Chas’ path out by the Bude antenna farm, no matter how much that wasn’t true. Katie Whitfield would hate him and he’d never find a way to explain otherwise.

  He heard the others arrive, but no one bothered him. Which was a good thing because it saved him from drowning any of his friends in the harbor.

  Anton didn’t even know how he’d get in the same car with Michelle. Christ, he wouldn’t even be able to go home for Ma’s holiday dinners. Those were the highlight of his entire year. But if Michelle was there, no way could he even go home.

  And she and Ricardo were a third of Shadow Force: Psi. Was he going to lose Shadow Force too? He’d left the US Army to be a part of this team. Would they take him back? God he hoped so.

  “Anton,” Ricardo called out.

  Oh right. And he’d be losing his best friend too while he was at it.

  “Here’s the last of us. Let’s saddle up.”

  Maybe he should jump ship right here and now.

  No question about it really.

  He told himself to be civil, but he wouldn’t be taking any bets.

  Anton turned from the sea to say goodbye. To change his life, again.

  “Sorry if I took too long,” Katie said as she walked around the hood of the car. A true outdoorsman’s pack sat lightly on her back. She wore her boots, shorts, a denim blouse, and her glorious hair spilling loose over her shoulders like dark sunlight.

  He’d never seen a more amazing sight.

  Anton didn’t have any words.

  When she stopped and dropped her pack, he simply stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. Resting his cheek on her hair, he breathed her in, and held on for all he was worth.

  Any questions Katie had about whether or not traveling with the team was a good choice were washed away in Anton’s embrace.

  He didn’t just hold her, he wrapped her in his big arms and crushed her against his chest. More intimate than either of their kisses, he didn’t ease up, but kept holding her until she was having trouble breathing.

  “Um, hi. Do you always greet new team members this way?”

  “Just you,” he whispered into her hair.

  “You do know that we saw each other just two hours ago. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Seems longer.”

  “You can let go of me now.”

  He gave her a final squeeze that really did knock away the last of her air, then eased her back just enough to look down at her.

  She could see a dozen questions in his eyes. “You going to ask another moccasin question?”

  He just shook his head. “You’re coming with us?”

  “Isobel seemed to think it was a good idea.”

  That earned her another one of his gloriously crushing hugs.

  “I guess you do, too.”

  She could feel his nod, then he finally let her go.

  As she stepped away from him, Katie saw Michelle sidle up to him carefully. Not since her initial fumble at their first meeting had she seen Michelle be anything other than utterly confident. Katie had never once felt that confident for two minutes in a row.

  But right now, Michelle looked as scared as a rabbit as she stood in front of Anton’s looming height.

  As Katie bent down to retrieve her pack from where she’d dropped it on the granite pier, she was just barely close enough to hear Michelle’s words.

  “You know I’d never hurt you on purpose, Anton.”

  “Yeah, I guess I know that. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, Missy. It was a damned shitty thing to do.”

  They both stood there awkwardly. If anyone else noticed what was going on, they were kind enough to not be watching.

  Katie didn’t know if it was her place or even what was going on, but at Michelle’s obvious distress she couldn’t help herself. She got Anton’s attention and mouthed clearly, “Hug her.”

  When Anton finally did, Michelle lay her face on his shoulder and started to cry.

  Katie looked away to give them their privacy.

  She’d just finished stowing her pack when Isobel spoke softly beside her.

  “You done good, Katie Whitfield. Knew you would.”

  Katie didn’t know anything of the kind, but she also knew she’d never received higher praise.

  Chapter 13

  Anton didn’t outright die on the flight to Dakar, but after six hours i
n economy—the only seats available on such short notice—he sort of wished he had. Not as badly as the hour-long hop from Cornwall to London in the tiny commuter plane, but very, very close.

  The only highlight was that Katie had sat next to him. But instead of getting to know her better, she’d put her head on his shoulder and passed out for the entire flight.

  While he’d been totally charmed, and enjoyed being able to rest his cheek on her hair—until he got a crick in his neck to go with the ache in his back and the throbbing in his knees—he was also ticked that everyone else seemed able to sleep on the flight.

  Almost everyone. He got some satisfaction from seeing Jesse also suffer. His six-three didn’t fit in economy all that much better than Anton’s six-five. They exchanged a few grimaces across the aisle about the women sleeping so peacefully against their shoulders, but mostly they both stared straight ahead and focused on pain management.

  The Senegalese airport was very neat and modern. It had only three jetways, which were apparently reserved for Air France flights or something. Their British Airways flight was parked well out on the tarmac and they were bused into the terminal.

  For perhaps the first time in his life, Anton didn’t feel completely out of place. At six-five, he was far from the tallest black men on the bus. Most were long, lean, and the average skin was even darker than his own, but mostly it was a relief to not always be looking down on a sea of heads. Even many of the women topped six feet.

  The men were almost universally in black slacks, well-polished black shoes, with a button-down white shirt.

  The women were a cloud of wild and wonderful prints. Just watching them, he could understand why so many people in the States went for “ethnic” even if they were no more recently African than he was. Blues, golds, reds, greens…they all flourished in such massive and cheery prints that it was impossible not to smile. He also didn’t mind that Senegalese fashion apparently dictated that they wear their clothing very tight, revealing splendid shapes and curves.

  “Bet you’d look good in some of those getups,” he whispered down to Katie.