was furious on the phone. If it were me, I would have already killed him.”
She flushed at the knowledge. Of course Kane would know, but still, she couldn’t see him rushing in and
doing anything so impulsive without assessing the situation first. It just wasn’t like him. But she didn’t have
the breath to argue further with him. He was moving them quickly through the passageway, his steps
silent as she fought to keep her own movements just as quiet. Her boots were soft-soled, but still there
was a shuffle, a scrape of leather over stone that seemed to echo around her.
It seemed they strode though endless miles of weathered stone before he slowed the fast walk they were
in. He began to move slower, easing her through the corridor, his head tilted as he listened carefully.
“We’re getting ready to move out of the tunnel. I want you to stay quiet, Merinus and stay right behind
me,” he warned her as he stopped and laid his mouth at her ear to speak. “No matter what I tell you to
do, you do it, and do it quickly. Do you understand?”
His voice was quiet again, that throb of savagery in it making her heart beat out of control. She nodded
her head quickly as he glanced back at her. His eyes glittered in the darkness, a dull gold, furious, cold.
He extinguished the penlight and eased around a corner, moving silently toward the dim light ahead. He
stilled, his fingers going to her lips as his head tilted, listening intently. He pushed her against the wall,
indicating she should stay there, stay silent.
He was going on without her. Merinus shook her head violently, her fingers gripping his arms. Then she
heard a sound, a shuffle of feet, a light scrape against stone. Her eyes widened, terror flooding through
her. Callan’s eyes narrowed as he pushed her tighter into the stone, a warning in his expression as he
pulled the gun from his belt and began to move away from her.
Merinus took a deep, silent breath. She fought to keep her breathing normal, her heart rate slower. She
couldn’t hear anything past the desperate drum of blood rushing through her body. She was terrified. Her
own fear was like a separate entity choking her, strangling the breath in her throat as Callan moved
silently away from her. She watched his face, seeing the cold threat in his expression. This wasn’t the
lover she had known in the past days, or the teasing, elusive prey she had stalked the weeks before.
Callan was now the creature those damned scientists had created. Cold, hard, his body primed and
ready to fight.
Stay! He mouthed silently.
She nodded, unwilling to worry him. Kane had warned her many times of the danger of a soldier
allowing his concentration to fracture under fire. He had to be able to fight without the baggage of internal
or emotional conflict. She pressed herself tighter against the stone, watching him desperately, praying he
knew she would stay put as he warned her to.
He smiled softly, approvingly, then disappeared from sight as a tear fell from her eye.
* * * * *
Callan could smell them despite the camouflaging scent they stupidly thought would mask their presence
from him. There was no way to hide the stink of sweat and the desire to kill. They were good, he gave
them that. Had it not been for the smell, he would have never known they were there before he heard the
shuffle of feet. And that would have been masked by his own rush through the corridor. The men sent
after him were well trained and determined. A hazard.
Taber and Tanner were still on the other side of the caves ensuring Sherra and Doc Martin’s escape.
There would be no help there. Only God knew where Dayan was. As usual, he had disappeared when
trouble came calling. There were three of the soldiers waiting for him in the small cave where the corridor
emptied out. The good thing was that they seemed to think they would hear him in time to react. They
weren’t hidden, rather in plain sight.
Callan slid a hunting knife from the sheath at his thigh, palmed it carefully, then stepped into view. The
weapon went flying into the shoulder of the man whose weapon came up first. He dropped to the ground
as Callan turned his gun on the other two, another knife whipping from sheath to hand and flying to the
arm of another.
“I don’t want to kill you bastards, but I will,” he announced softly, his gun trained on the injured, more
than surprised soldiers. He looked to the last one left standing, watching coldly as the man held his hands
carefully at shoulder height.
“We’re not here to kill you, Lyons. We just want the girl.” The surprising statement had Callan growling
low, dangerous.
“Why would you want the girl?” he asked him softly.
The soldier shrugged. “Council orders. They didn’t give a shit about you on this one.”