Nathan waited until they were out of sight, and then climbed higher up the slope, past the trees, and into the deep snows surrounding the caves. Smoke rose from one of the vent holes, telling him they were waiting for him.
He entered the main cave, glad that for once he had some good news to deliver.
Chapter 19
The Land Rover they’d stolen must have belonged to Ethan’s girlfriend, Lori, Lilah decided as she looked around the tidy vehicle. She could smell the other woman’s perfume, a light, sweet floral that seemed to be coming from the glove compartment. She opened it, retrieving a small spray bottle of fragrance and a zipped black vinyl case. When she opened the case, she found a folded bundle of twenties, four passports, and a long, thin knife with a sharp, dark-colored blade.
Walker glanced over, scowling as soon as he saw the dagger in Lilah’s hand. “She’s an assassin.”
“Or she’s a woman traveling alone who doesn’t like guns.” Lilah slipped the dagger back into the case and examined each of the passports. “Lori Baker. Laura Parker. Valerie Teller. Larry Barker?” She chuckled. “I can’t believe it. She dresses up and poses as a man, too.”
“The best killers can be anyone.” He picked up one of the passports, flipped it open, and then handed it back to her. “Are the rest stamped by Italian customs?”
“Italian, French, British, Swedish … ” She reeled off a few more nations. “This girl really gets around.” She put the passports back in the case and counted the twenties. “Whew. She also carries a thousand dollars in cash.”
“There will be more hidden away.”
Lilah replaced everything in the glove compartment and sat back. “Did you know that woman?”
“No, but I know who sent her.” He slowed as they joined a long line of cars at a ramp, waiting to merge onto the highway. “This wealthy friend of yours that you called—Samuel—do you trust him?”
At this point Samuel was the only person besides Walker whom she trusted. “Completely.”
“We will need his help,” he said, as if he hated admitting it. “New identities, transport out of the state, and a place where we can stay for several weeks without attracting notice.”
“I’m sure he can take care of it.” She studied his face. “But before we contact him, we should stop for the night, get something to eat and a room somewhere.”
He smiled a little. “Yes. I would like that.”
So would she, his tone implied. But now that they weren’t in danger of being dissected, locked up, or torn to pieces by werewolves, there were other matters they had to settle. “We should also talk about a few things, like what we’re going to tell people about you.”
“Such as?”
This was going to be harder than she thought. “Your name, for one thing. It’s too dangerous for you to keep using Walker Kimball. And we also have to stop telling people that you’re from Denver.”
He looked at her, frowning. “Why?”
“Because you’re not from Denver. I’m guessing that you’re not even American.” She hesitated before she added, “And you’re not Walker Kimball.”
He didn’t say anything, but a muscle along his jaw ticked.
“It’s okay.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’ve known for a while now.”
“When did you realize?”
“I knew when you told me what you saw in the parking lot of that truck stop,” she admitted. “I didn’t think about what you said at the time, but it kept bothering me, and then later I figured out why. Someone from Denver would have instantly recognized Colorado license plates.”
He nodded. “Why didn’t you ask me before now?”
“A lot has happened since we jumped off that truck.” She tried to gauge his mood, but all she could feel was despair. He didn’t want her to know who he was, and yet she also felt sure that was the key to everything about him. “How did you end up with Walker Kimball’s dog tags?”
“We met in Afghanistan. Kimball and his men were ambushed, and I went in to bring them out. Everyone got out alive but us.” The muscles of his arm bulged under her fingers as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Grenades were falling all around us. The chain around Kimball’s neck became snagged on a tree branch and snapped, but I caught it before it could fall to the ground. I remember holding his tags in my fist, and trying to shield him from the explosions. They must have found them on me when they recovered my body.”
“Is Walker Kimball dead?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “After the final explosion, I remember nothing until I woke up in the truck.”
“So what country were you fighting for?”
“I have no country.” His tone hardened. “No home, no family, no friends. I went to war as a mercenary, intent only on joining the battle where and when I could. No.” He sighed. “I went to Afghanistan to die, Lilah.”
The harsh words made her heart constrict. “But you rescued those soldiers, and you tried to save Walker Kimball. People who want to kill themselves are selfish; they only think of themselves and the pain they feel. You risked your life to keep those men alive.”
His mouth hitched. “Most of those men were little more than inexperienced boys.” He glanced at her. “You’re not angry with me.”
“You’re not the only one with a secret.” She wanted to tell him—if they were going to be together, she had to—but the words just weren’t there. It wasn’t something she wanted to tell him while they were in a car; she’d wait until they were someplace safe, with four sturdy walls around them. “My name isn’t Lilah Devereaux. It’s Lillian Emerson.”
“Lillian.” He said it slowly, drawing out the syllables. “It is a lovely name, but I think prefer Lilah.”
“Me, too. Lillian seemed so old-fashioned and dreary to me when I was a girl. Everyone but my mother called me Elle.” She thought of Evelyn, and what a disappointment she’d been to her, and what a relief it had been to shed Lillian Emerson. Maybe her lover felt the same. “I’m not trying to push you into telling me your real name, by the way.”
“I want to tell you everything,” he said slowly. “But some knowledge is dangerous, especially if we are captured again. For now, it is better that you not know who I was.”
“Not a problem,” she assured him. “Samuel and my Takyn friends know me as Delilah, and I’ll probably use that until we’re out of here. We just need a new name for you.”
“Yes.” He thought for a moment. “I know.” He smiled. “Samson.”
Lilah laughed. “Oh, that’s terrible.” The phone in her pocket rang, and she was still chuckling as she took it out. “Uh-oh. Please don’t be a lady in labor looking for Dr. Jemmet.” She flipped it open and read the screen. “It’s Samuel.”
When she answered the call, a man with a deep, smooth voice said, “Del? Are you all right? Where are you?”
“We’re fine. We, ah, borrowed a car and we should be in Denver in a couple of hours.”
“I was so worried when I received your text,” Samuel said. “You said ‘we.’ Who is with you?”
“A new friend.” She really did have to come up with a new name for her love, and fast. “We were both kidnapped by GenHance, but he and I were able to escape together. In fact, I wouldn’t be talking to you if it weren’t for him.”
“Then I’ll be very glad to meet him and shake his hand,” Samuel said. “Now, what can I do to help?”
“We were just talking about that. We should really leave Colorado before GenHance or the law catches up with us.” She gave him a brief explanation of what had happened without going into the stranger details about Frenchman’s Pass or the werewolves who had helped free them from their kidnappers. “I don’t know if we have enough money for plane tickets,” she added. “Could you wire us some funds?”
“I arrived in Denver last night,” he said, startling her. “I can pick you up myself.”
Lilah felt uneasy. The only information she had sent to Samuel in the text was the number to Dr. Jemmet’s phone. “How did you know we were here?”
“I had my people trace the text message back to the cell tower from where it originated.” He sighed. “I know, Del, it’s against the rules for us to track each other, but frankly all I could think about was getting to you before GenHance did.”
She felt instantly ashamed of her suspicions. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. We need to get cleaned up and rest, so we’re going to stop and get a room. Why don’t we meet sometime tomorrow?”
“Of course. There is a park in the southwest part of the city.” He gave her the address, and then said, “The botanical gardens have some of Henry Moore’s sculptures on exhibit; you can pick up a guide at the entrance on York Street. I will meet you and your friend by the reclining mother and child at three.”
“We’ll see you there tomorrow, then. Thank you so much, Samuel.” She switched off the phone, closing it and running her thumb idly over the hinges. “I was wrong when I said that I have no friends. I have some great friends.” She glanced over at the man beside her. “But don’t worry, that’s all he’ll ever be.”
“I am not worried.” He picked up her hand and held it. “Now choose a name for me so that you can introduce us.”
“Right.” She studied him. “It’s a shame we can’t use Walker; it suits you. You’re not a Tom or a Joe or a George. My grandfather’s name was Robert.”
He shook his head. “Not Robert.”
“You’re right, that doesn’t fit. We need a Takyn nickname for you, the kind we use online. You’d be something like Hunter, or Hawkeye, or … ” She recalled the dream she’d had, the night she’d been taken. “I know. Guide.”
