wasn’t wired up to keep secrets from
Nicolas. “We have government contracts with both America and Russia.”
“How varied exactly is
this coal?”
“Don’t look at me like
that,” she said to his sudden scowl. “The energy source engineered from the
rock is clean and pure, but then the rock was not exactly meant to be digested.
I’ve got a good—or maybe I should say badfeeling about this.”
His scowl relaxed with a
sigh. “No, you were right this first time. If we’ve found the source, then this
is the first good news I’ve had in weeks.”
“Oh, Nicolas.” Her lower
lip twisted beneath her teeth. “What if—”
“If we’ve found the
source,” he interrupted sternly, leaving no margin for doubt, “then we’re
halfway there.”
“I want to come with you
to the mines in the morning.”
He looked at her for so
long, she was convinced he was searching for a reasonable excuse. Her heart
clenched when he leaned in even closer and said softly, “Wear jeans and
trainers, cucciola .”
5
T he mines
were concentrated in the Black Hills bordering Ophella to the north. Nicolas was
behind the wheel of the Land Rover while Catherine directed them along the
twisting bends through the deep woods that forked at various intervals. As they
climbed the hill, the vegetation reduced solely to Evergreen Firs that never
shed their foliage, blocking out the sunlight and any warmth it might have
supplied.
“That leads to the Hunting
Lodge,” she said when they passed yet another fork in the road. When he lifted
an eyebrow at her, she punched his arm. “Now it’s used for nothing more
sinister than guest accommodation. Do you always have to assume the worst in
me?”
“I try to,” Nicolas
replied honestly. Not that it’s working.
He grinned into her
baffled stare to soften the blunt truth he should have kept to himself. A long
forgotten pledge flashed inside his head. There is no secret dark enough, no
crime vile enough, no discovery black enough to keep me from you, little one. He lost the grin as he realised that his heart was still holding onto that
pledge and preventing him from letting go. He hadn’t expected instant recovery,
but he had hadn’t even made a start.
“Left,” she called
suddenly.
Jerked from his thoughts,
Nicolas spun the wheel to take the turn and the back of the vehicle skidded
recklessly.
“Sorry,” he muttered once
he had it back under control.
“My fault,” Catherine
said. She’d been distracted by his strange admission, by the shadows playing
across his face as one emotion chased the other from his crossed brow to the
grin that disappeared as quickly as it had formed.
The brick buildings of the
mine’s administration offices came into view as they rounded the last bend to
arrive at the clearing deep inside the forest. She indicated to a reserved
parking spot and leapt from the vehicle as soon as he cut the engine. “I need
to have a word with the site administrator. Due to safety regulations, we won’t
be allowed into the tunnels without clearance.”
“Go ahead.” Nicolas lifted
the rear door of the Land Rover to retrieve the case of equipment he’d packed.
When she returned with
clip-on badges and hard hats, he was ready to go, case in one hand, torch in
the other. Catherine set her bundle down on the roof of the vehicle, stripped
both her gloves to clip one badge onto the lapel of her jacket, then turned to
him with the other.
“Allow me,” she said,
seeing his hands full. She took the step that brought her up close to his chest
and instantly regretted the offer. Fingers suddenly clumsy, she struggled with
the clip that was too small, the collar of his windbreaker that was too narrow,
his overwhelming nearness that was too much. Her eyes slowly lifted, drawn
against her will by a force she had no power over, and met the intensity of his
gaze.
His scent was somewhere
between musky and fresh pine, all male, all familiar. Longing
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham