The guards came forward in pairs, weapons pointed at them, and Dirk felt more than saw Hatch move Valda back and behind him. Oz and Andreas would cover her, and Dirk took two steps forward. The mouth of the gun barrel pressed against his skull as he stared into the eyes of the guard wielding the weapon.
There was no malice or fury, just apprehension and maybe a flicker of regret. These guys didn’t want to be here. Well, then they should exercise their conscience and turn on the suit before he got them killed.
“Still feeling unhelpful, Dr. Bashan?”
The threat hung there in the air. Dirk didn’t blink. He trusted Valda’s faith in him. He had faith in her trust.
“I don’t believe in repeating myself, Mr. Smithson,” was her only response.
Good girl.
The guard’s gaze cut away briefly, indecision shifting the weight of his grip on the handgun. It was almost imperceptible, but it was exactly what Dirk wanted. He disarmed him swiftly, twisted him around, then used him as a shield when the second man fired. At this range, the body armor the guard had on wouldn’t protect him from the force of the discharge as the weapon hit him. Dirk shot that guard, then the two closest to Smithson, leaving him the only target in the field. The two guards at the door weren’t rushing forward to protect him.
“Still feeling uncooperative, Mr. Smithson?” Dirk asked. Panic fluttered across the man’s expression.
“Don’t any of you give a damn about humanity?”
“When people show it,” Dirk told him. “I give a damn then. Currently, you’re acting on greed and power. That’s not humanity. That’s just selfishness.”
“Fine. Go back to Mr. Benedict’s estate. My men can take you there. Then we will talk.”
“I’ll consider it,” Dirk told him. “And your men aren’t taking us any fucking where. We’ll manage on our own.”
No way in hell this should have worked, yet thirty minutes later, they were leaving the Blossom Foundry compound in a vehicle both he and Hatch cleared. They had no tracers, no tags, and no escort. The only thing Dirk had conceded to take was a phone that he had Hatch strip down to the most basic pieces.
Once in the vehicle, he had Hatch drive while he kept watch. Behind him, in the backseat, Andreas, Valda, and Oz were silent. None of them dared believe this. He didn’t trust it on their way out to the road, or even when they were halfway to their destination.
While he didn’t pick up on any visible tails, he still kept a wary eye out.
“Are we really heading back to the manor house?” Andreas asked finally, puncturing the quiet.
“That doesn’t seem wise,” Oz stated.
“It’s not,” Hatch agreed. “But we need supplies and we need backup. They’ll meet us there and we’re going to swap cars and I’ll fix the phone. Then we’re moving on, so don’t get comfortable.”
Dirk allowed himself a brief moment to check on Valda, and her expression seemed almost inscrutable. Bruises marred her face, and there was a hint of dried blood around her temple. Her dark eyes flicked to him, and he drank in the sight of her before he turned his attention back to their path.
Their stay at the manor was mercifully brief. Hatch kept a cache of supplies, including another vehicle tucked away inside a garage that looked more like a near collapsing shed. Dirk respected the camouflage, and Valda’s momentary look of dismay as they entered almost made him laugh.
Almost.
Once he’d transferred what he needed from the phone and gotten them clean transmitters, they piled into the next vehicle and left via an underground route that put them out onto a roadway several kilometers away.
“Something you used to use in your spotty youth?” Valda asked once they were heading north again.
“And my checkered present, luv. But I never leave a good escape route behind. You never know when it will be useful. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so I suggest those of you who can sleep, do.”
“Are we going to talk about what Smithson wanted?” Andreas asked, though his tone suggested he wasn’t all that interested.
“Not now,” Dirk told him. Not until he’d had time to talk to Valda alone. He wanted to know what Smithson had said to her. “Get some sleep. All of you.”
To his utter surprise, Andreas listened. The man wasn’t known for his cooperation with orders. Oz had drifted off too, but only after Valda had taken his hand. The unease between them needed to be addressed. Whatever it was, they would resolve it. For the next three hours, neither he nor Hatch said a word. Each time he checked though, Valda was awake. The darkness hid her expressions from him, but she was looking out the window.
They pulled into the old Carlisle Castle four hours after leaving Hatch’s estate. He used another underground access point, navigating by memory some rather unfriendly turns, and since the tunnel was wide enough for one vehicle, Dirk appreciated his care.
“Stay with the car,” he ordered her, and then he and Hatch slipped out to clear the grounds. It took another hour for him to feel confident in the choice and then make contact with his secondary and tertiary teams. Campbell had done well with his choices. They were en route, and the first team would be there in two hours.
“I’ll get the generator started,” Hatch said, then rubbed his own face. “We need to sort out food, medical supplies…”
“Just get the generator started, then get some sleep. I’ll stand watch until the team is here.”
“Yeah, how about you get them in and spend time with our lady, and I’ll stand watch. I doubt I’m going to sleep until we’re off this isle.”
“You all right?” He clasped Hatch’s shoulder.
“I’ll live,” he told him. “Just want her as far away from them as we can get her. I don’t trust any of this.”
“Nor do I. We’ll have plans by dawn.”
“Dirk…” The unspoken question hung in the air.
“She’ll go,” he told him. “She’ll go because she wants us safe.” And because he was going to ask her. “If she planned to cooperate with that man’s lunacy, she would have done it back there at the facility.” Of that, he was certain.
“Good, I’ll leave you to it.”
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled Valda into a room that Hatch pointed out. Hatch had already gotten the heat on. The place was more a fortress than a house, and the rooms were underground and windowless. Once he’d bolted the door, he turned to find Valda sitting down on the edge of the bed, weariness in every part of her.
“You’re tired,” he said as he knelt in front of her.
With gentle hands, she cupped his face and then studied him, sadness darkening her eyes.
“They’re wounds,” he assured her. “I will heal. The hair will grow back. It might take a while, but I’m still me.”
“I had no doubt of that,” she whispered, and then leaned forward to kiss him. There were a hundred things they needed to talk about, but with the pressure of her lips on his, he shoved them aside. Valda was alive and she was in his arms and they were safe.
For the moment.
“I need you,” she whispered against his mouth, and if his resolve had not already crumbled, it would have fallen away with that single demand. Lifting her, he twisted, and they landed on the bed together. Thankfully, the air recyclers had kept the dust to a minimum as he made short work of her clothes then his.