Army of Two, page 2
“It’s been a long time.”
“It has indeed, Major.”
Major, not Mitch. She was drawing a distinct line. He wasn’t sure why that irritated him. He should be pleased. “How is the general?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him since he retired.”
“My father’s well, thank you.”
“I heard he moved to Arizona.”
“Yes. The drier climate seems to agree with him.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes.” She inclined her head toward the gap in the trees and started moving once more. “I hope you enjoy your stay at the Aerie. I’ll show you to your room so you can unpack before dinner. Our cook is preparing grilled trout with blueberry sauce.”
That was as personal as she would allow the conversation to get. Mitch fell into step beside her, studying her as they walked, trying to spot traces of the girl’s face in the woman’s. The pale blue eyes that had been her most outstanding feature had new shadows in their depths. There were dramatic hollows beneath her cheekbones and a lushness to her lips. He could see that the prettiness she’d possessed as a teenager had honed itself into a mature beauty.
It wasn’t only her face that had matured, either. The blouse she wore under her suede jacket pulled taut across a pair of generous breasts. He’d already noticed her attractively curved hips. Combined with the way she moved, her body projected a ripe sexuality. Little Chantal was now a woman in her prime.
And despite his best intentions, his body responded.
Damn. He hadn’t expected this. He’d thought that almost two decades would have dulled the reaction.
Nevertheless, the image of how Chantal had looked when they’d parted flitted through Mitch’s mind. He strove to block it out, as he always did.
He didn’t want to remember. She belonged to a chapter of his past that he preferred to forget.
The air was thick with the smell of fuel, sweat and damp cement, but the hangar doors would remain closed until the men completed the loading. They couldn’t run the risk of witnesses at this stage. Lewis Knox hadn’t remained alive this long by being careless.
A thin, ponytailed figure moved through the illumination of the truck headlights and rounded the nose of the black chopper. It was Ted Bamford, their communications man. “I just got a message from our contact.”
“Well?”
“They arrived four hours ago, right on schedule.”
“Was Petherick with them?”
“Big as life.”
“Any more details?”
“Like what?” Bamford snorted a laugh. “You’re wondering how the fishing is?”
Lewis strove for patience. As long as he needed Bamford’s skill with electronics, he had to put up with his attitude. “Names. Room assignments.”
“Oh, right. I didn’t get any names, but I did hear their rooms are on the top floor.”
“What about the resort staff?”
“They’re all tucked in for the night, behind the kitchen at the back.”
Lewis unfolded the sketched floor plan their contact had provided and tilted it toward the light. So far, this was just as he’d expected. “All right. Once we block the rear exit, we’ll bottle up the staff. The fewer we need to kill in the initial assault, the more hostages we’ll have later. Which of the rooms were given to the military personnel?”
“I don’t know. What difference does that make?”
“They’re the only ones likely to offer resistance.” He tapped his finger against each of the staircases. “We need to neutralize them before they can reach the exits. We’ll strike before dawn. Hit hard and hit fast.”
“I wouldn’t worry about those army dudes. I thought your friend said Petherick only deals with desk jockeys. Guys who’re already halfway out to pasture.”
“Complacency can get you killed, Bamford.”
He slapped one hand against the submachine gun that hung from his shoulder. “Not with what I’ll be carrying.”
Lewis refolded the sketch, stored it in his shirt pocket, then kicked Bamford’s feet from under him and snatched the gun while he was on his way down. He pressed the end of the barrel against Bamford’s throat to pin him on the floor. “Don’t underestimate your adversary.”
“What the hell… How’d you do that?”
“This is only one of the lessons the army taught me.”
“Damn it, Knox. You’re crazy.”
He flicked down the safety and caressed the trigger. “That’s what they claimed. Maybe you’d like out. Is that what you want, Bamford? You want to quit?”
“I never said that.”
“If you stay, you need to follow my orders.”
“Sure. That’s what I’ve been doing. Come on, man. Move the gun.”
Lewis looked around him. The activity near the chopper had stopped. The flight crew were lounging against a fuel drum they should have been loading and were apparently indifferent to their comrade’s fate. That wasn’t the case with Taddeo, Brown and Dodson, three of the ten men who provided the muscle for the group. They watched eagerly, no doubt hoping for blood to be spilled.
This demonstration was for their sake as much as for Bamford’s. When dealing with men like these, it was essential to establish who was in command. Like a pack of animals, they understood strength and little else. Lewis waited until he had made eye contact with every one of them, then lifted the gun barrel and used it to wave them back to work.
He had no illusions about the loyalty of the team he had assembled. They stuck with him for the sake of profit, not principles. Money was a good motivator.
But it wasn't as effective as fear.
Chapter 2
Chantal warmed her hands around her coffee mug as she walked along the floating dock. Streamers of mist rose from the lake, obscuring the line between water and air. The base of the staircase that zigzagged up the hillside was disappearing behind her, giving the illusion that the Aerie was floating on a cloud. The front windows reflected the lightening sky, though the sun wouldn’t rise over the horizon for another half hour.
Petherick had kept his group in the meeting room until after midnight, so Chantal had assumed none of them would be getting up this early. She liked to take a few minutes for herself before she had to start the day. Yet she hadn’t gone more than halfway to the end of the dock when the boards beneath her feet vibrated with the sounds of someone else’s footsteps. She turned to look behind her.
A tall man in a black leather bomber-style jacket materialized from the mist. She recognized him instinctively, even before he drew close enough for her to make out his features. Only one person had ever been able to give her pulse a bump like this.
Wonderful. So much for her few moments of peace. She took a sip of her coffee and put on her hostess smile. She could do this. The first night was already behind them. Only six more days and nights to go. “Good morning, Major. I see you found your way to the kitchen.”
He was carrying a mug identical to hers. He lifted it in a salute as he reached her. “It looks as if we had the same idea. Hope you don’t mind if I helped myself from that bowl of muffins on the sideboard, too.”
“Not at all. I wasn’t aware that anyone else was up. I’ll put on some more coffee.”
“Don’t bother. The place was still quiet when I came outside. It seems we’re the only early risers.”
She should have remembered that about him. He used to go jogging before dawn whenever his schedule had allowed it. By the time his route had taken him past their house, his T-shirt would be damp and clinging to his chest, the muscles in his arms and legs gleaming. How many mornings had she waited by her window for the sound of his running shoes on the pavement? Those secret glimpses of his taut body used to fuel her imagination for the rest of the day.
She gulped another mouthful of coffee, then continued to move toward the end of the dock. “If you’re interested in fishing, you’re welcome to use any of our canoes while you’re here.”
“You have canoes? I didn’t see any.”
She gestured toward the boathouse behind them. “We’ve been storing them inside since a wandering moose put its hoof through the hull of one that had been left pulled up on the shore. They can be fitted with small outboard motors, but most of our guests prefer a quieter ride. We also have a traditional mahogany launch for touring.”
He walked beside her, his arm almost—but not quite—touching hers. “Mahogany? It sounds like a classic.”
“It is. We were lucky to obtain it.”
“Sounds as if you do things old-school around here.”
“We try to provide rustic luxury,” she said, then grimaced inwardly at the trite response. She was sounding like one of her brochures.
The dock widened into a platform that held a group of Adirondack chairs. The wood was coated with dew, so neither of them sat. “How large is this lake?” he asked.
“The main body is around sixteen miles long and a mile wide. If you decide to explore any of the arms by canoe, you’d best take a map along. Or a guide.”
“I’ll endeavor not to get lost.”
She realized belatedly how silly her caution must have sounded. “Many of our clients are city people,” she said. “Of course, with your military training you wouldn’t have any trouble finding your way.”
“It’s always wise to be familiar with the terrain before you set out. I took a look at the map in your lobby and saw that you have a network of hiking trails as well.”
“Yes. Just let us know when you want to go and we’ll arrange a packed lunch for you.”
“Sounds good, but I’ll have to wait and see what Graham has planned. It’s his party.”
“Any time you need anything, Major Redinger, just let me or one of my staff know.”
He nodded and lifted his mug to his lips.
Chantal watched. She couldn’t help herself. He had a beautifully shaped mouth. His upper lip was a sculpted bow, his lower one firmly masculine, and his smiles had packed quite a punch. That was one of the things that had first drawn her to him. The other officers who had served under her father had seemed to have only two expressions, stone or rock, but Mitch had been different. She’d seen humor in his steel-gray eyes and compassion in his face.
Yet he didn’t look like a man who smiled often anymore. The lines on the sides of his mouth had deepened since she’d last seen him, giving his features a more chiseled appearance. The angle of his jaw appeared harder than it used to be. She wondered whether his skin still tasted the same.
“You might as well call me Mitch,” he said. “There’s no use pretending we’re strangers.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” she said, although she knew it was a lie. There was no way she would let him know how his presence still had the power to affect her.
Why couldn’t he have gained weight? Or lost his hair? Plenty of men got soft as they aged, yet Mitch only appeared harder. He would be forty-five by now, but in his leather jacket and his tan cargo pants, his body seemed as lean and fit as when he’d been twenty-eight. He had the slim hips and tight butt that were typical of a runner’s build, and he would likely look the same at seventy. His dark brown hair was still thick. The touch of silver that she noticed at his temples only added to his attractiveness.
She glanced at the gold ring that gleamed on his left hand, then turned her gaze to the lake. There was nothing to see except the wall of mist, but it was preferable to looking at his wedding band.
He still wore it. That in itself was statement enough. She felt even more of a fool for the dreams about love that she’d once had. Her own marriage had been brutally short. She rarely thought about it these days. Obviously, the woman Mitch had chosen to give his heart to continued to hold it, even though she’d been dead for more than seven years.
“In a way, we are strangers, Mitch,” she continued. “I’m not the same person I used to be. I doubt if you are, either.”
“Time changes everyone.”
“I heard you’re based at Fort Bragg now.”
“That’s right.”
“My father said you’re commanding a Special Forces unit. Eagle Squadron, isn’t it?”
“I’m surprised the topic came up. I wouldn’t have thought you’d kept track.”
She forced a laugh. Keep it light. Casual. “The general’s the one who kept track. He likes to follow the careers of his officers. So don’t worry. My stalking days are long over.”
“You know what I meant, Chantal.”
“Oh?”
“Going through these social niceties with me must be tough for you. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”
That had to be the understatement of the century. Leave it to Mitch to tackle the issue head-on. He’d had a penchant for directness when he’d been younger. She suspected his impatience with politics was one of the reasons why he hadn’t risen above the rank of major. He was well suited to the independent, outside-the-box mind-set of the Special Forces.
She responded to his understatement with one of her own. “I suppose you could say our last encounter was somewhat awkward.”
“As I recall, the final thing you told me was to go to hell.”
“Now it’s my turn to be surprised. I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember that.”
He shrugged, quiet apart from the subtle creak of his leather jacket.
“Kids tend to be dramatic,” she said, wanting to fill the silence—and hating the fact that she did. She’d be damned if she was going to apologize.
“I hope my presence here won’t be a problem for you.”
She put on a smile that would have made her mother proud. And lied again. “Not at all. You’re my guest, and it’s my job to make your stay as pleasant as possible. Try to think of me as your host instead of a confused adolescent.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Chantal swallowed the rest of what she wanted to say. Unfortunately, there was a lot because it had been simmering for a long time.
Yet as she’d just reminded him, in less than a week he’d be gone. As long as she kept her dealings with him on a professional basis, she could do this.
A fish splashed somewhere to their left. Mitch turned his head toward the sound as ripples bobbed across the water beneath the mist. “I wouldn’t have expected to find you in a place like the Aerie, Chantal. Is this what you always wanted, to run a resort in Maine?”
No, I wanted to marry you, Mitch. I wanted you to ride in on your white charger and rescue me from my life….
She drained her coffee mug and hooked her finger through the handle so that she could cross her arms. The posture was defensive, and to a man as observant as Mitch it was a dead giveaway, but she didn’t care. “You might find it hard to believe, considering how I was raised, but I’m happy here, Mitch. This place fills…” She paused, searching for the right word. An emptiness? A need?
Yet why was she trying to explain anything to him? Was she actually about to open her heart again, fall into the old pattern simply because he was here? Maybe she hadn’t changed that much after all. It was an alarming thought. “It keeps me busy,” she finished. She turned. “Speaking of which, I have some paperwork I need to catch up on.”
He touched her arm to stop her from moving away. “Are you expecting anyone else, Chantal?”
Even though her jacket, a sweater and a blouse separated her skin from his hand, she imagined she could feel his touch all the way to her toes. Her determination to remain cool dissolved. She jerked sideways to break the contact.
He dropped his arm fast and stepped back, as if he were as determined as she was to reestablish the distance between them.
Terrific. That pattern hadn’t appeared to have changed, either. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”
“Any other guests.”
“No. The Petherick Corporation has exclusive use of the place until next weekend. Why?”
He pointed to the west. “I hear a chopper.”
All she could hear was the rhythm of her pulse in her ears. “The mist can distort sound,” she said.
“It’s coming in fast. Not over the lake, either.”
She tipped her head. Though the mist still clung to the water, the sky overhead was clear. She heard the beat of the engine now. It was getting louder quickly. That was odd. Aircraft not connected with the resort did fly past from time to time, yet she’d never seen any this early in the day. She’d checked her e-mail through the resort’s satellite computer hookup as soon as she’d gotten up this morning, and there had been no message about any visitors. “It could be heading for the state park,” she said, starting back toward the staircase. “There might be a lost hiker. I’ll check the radio when I get in.”
“I noticed my cell phone doesn’t get a signal out here,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Is the radio your primary source of communication?”
“For some things. I do most of my business over e-mail. If there’s someone you absolutely need to contact, you can access the Internet through the computer in my office, but very few of my guests use it. Our isolation is one of our main selling features. It provides a true getaway vacation.”
“How do you get your supplies in?”
“By truck. There’s an old logging road that connects to the main road from Bethel Corners.”
“That’s the nearest community? Bethel Corners?”
“Yes, but the route’s too rough for anything without a four-wheel drive. Our guests prefer to come by air. It’s faster and more comfortable.”
He glanced toward the noise of the helicopter. It continued to get louder. “But you wouldn’t have any drop-ins.”
“No. Our business is strictly by reservation.”
There was a roar overhead as the helicopter cleared the hill behind the lodge. It exposed a dull, black underside before it swung out of sight once more. It definitely wasn’t from the park service. And it appeared to be landing.
She started up the staircase. “Well, whoever that is, they’ve no doubt woken the other guests. Please, stay here and enjoy the rest of your coffee.”
