Sophia started the Honda 250X dirt bike. The roar of the engine cut through the quiet darkness. A perfect September night for a ride, she thought. The air smelled of living green. No moon. No wind.
She swung on her backpack, strapped on her helmet, and checked her safety gear before pulling on a pair of padded leather gloves. She straddled the bike.
Where to? Sophia glanced at the surrounding forest. She lived near the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. Basically, the middle of nowhere with not a soul around for miles. Which suited her just fine. No neighbours. No annoying questions. No light.
She decided to ride over to Standing Indiana Mountain near Georgia’s northern border. It had been a couple of months since she last visited. The old glider landing strip near the peak would be a nice place for a midnight snack.
The bike jumped to life as she feathered the clutch. Following the narrow trails, she rode hard. Low-hanging branches smacked against her chest protector. She ducked thicker limbs, navigated around trunks, splashed through streams and motored up inclines. Her heart raced with pure adrenaline as the bike chewed up the miles.
Sailing over the last mound, Sophia whooped in mid-air. The bike landed with a solid thud. She stopped at the edge of the airstrip and removed her helmet.
It took her a moment to realize that the long grass that had grown wild on the strip had been cut to stubble. Tyre tracks grooved the ground. The glider port was no longer abandoned, but no aircraft was in sight.
Curious to see if the farmhouse nearby was also in use, Sophia hiked to the dilapidated two-storey building. Sure enough, light gleamed from the windows despite the late hour. A blue Ford F150 pickup with Virginia licence plates rested in the weed-choked driveway.
Not a weekender - Virginia was too far. Perhaps the new owners were glider pilots.
The brightness from the house burned her eyes. She averted her gaze and headed to her bike. But the sound of tyres crunching over stones enticed her back. Crouching nearby, she vowed to leave as soon as she spotted the car’s owner. After all, they were technically neighbours.
Face it, Sophia, it’s the first bit of excitement you’ve had since Dad died.
A Land Rover bounced and bumped along the dirt. . . well, calling it a road would be an exaggeration. Clouds of dust followed in its wake. Keeping out of the headlights’ beams, Sophia watched as the Land Rover stopped in front of the house with a squeal.
Two men stepped from the vehicle. A tank-sized, muscular man pounded on the front door. “Hey Rick, come out. We caught a big fish.”
The driver unlocked the back gate. The door swung wide and Rick came out of the house to join his friends.
“Who the hell is that?” Rick demanded.
“He’s a Fed, man,” the Tank said. “Special Agent Mitchell Wolfe.”
An icy chill crawled up Sophia’s spine. The cliché about curiosity and dead cats churned in her mind.
“Shit. How much does he know?” Rick asked.
“He knows we’ve been collecting treasures, but he doesn’t know the pick-up location,” the driver said.
“Shit. What did you bring him here for?”
“He hasn’t reported in yet. We didn’t know what to do.” Keys jangled as the driver gestured.
“How did you know he didn’t talk to the Feds?”
“We threatened to harm his treasure. He blabbed like a baby.”
“Did you get it?”
“Yep.” The big man yanked a long mesh bag from the back seat of the Land Rover.
Rick jerked a thumb towards the house. “Inside. Wake Glenn. We’re gonna need him.” A resigned annoyance coloured his tone.
While living in the middle of nowhere had its benefits, it also had its drawbacks. No wireless signals. No authorities within fifty miles.
The two men discussed delivery times as they waited for Glenn. Sophia heard “4 a.m.” and “three treasures” before Glenn slunk from the house.
“This better be good,” Glenn said.
“We have a problem,” Rick explained.
“No problem.” Glenn gestured. “We’re in the middle of bloody nowhere. Nobody’ll find him.” He pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed.
Sophia jumped to her feet. Ready to ... what? Scream?
Rick shoved Glenn’s arm down. “Not in the Rover, you idiot. Blood evidence stays behind even after you clean up. Don’t you watch CSI?”
Glenn shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Go ten miles and shoot him in the woods. Leave him for the cougars. Ed, you drive.”
The driver closed the back. He slid behind the wheel. Glenn hopped in beside him.
Watching the Land Rover U-turn, Sophia’s thoughts raced. There was no doubt she had to help, but Glenn was armed. She had a tool kit, but no weapons. Tonight had been a fun ride, not a hunting trip.
She had her Honda. The 250 cubic centimetre engine would keep up with the vehicle, and she had her . . . other talent, if desperate. Running to her bike, she jammed her helmet on, and kicked it into gear.
The beams of light from the Rover sliced the darkness, making it easy for Sophia to follow. Since she didn’t need a headlight, the men should be unaware of her presence.
After bouncing and crashing along the tight trail for thirty minutes, the vehicle swung to the side, illuminating a thick patch of underbrush.
Sophia silenced her bike and coasted to a stop about a hundred feet up the trail. Propping the bike, she crept closer. The men stepped from the vehicle, leaving the engine running.
“Perfect spot,” Glenn said. “He’s starting to wake. Take him out to those briars.” He checked his weapon.
Ed pulled the captive out. The man staggered. Ed steadied him. The agent’s wrists were handcuffed behind him. Cuts lined his face and a purple bruise covered his swollen right eye. He looked groggy, but when Glenn flashed his gun, he snapped awake.
“Easy there, Mitch,” Ed said. “We’re just going to leave you here to find your own way home.”
“Right.” Mitch’s voice rasped with sarcasm.
“Come on.” Ed dragged him towards the briar patch.
With her heart doing gymnastics in her chest, Sophia bent the light around her, rendering herself invisible to the men. She reached the vehicle and crawled towards the front tyre, keeping her eyes on the men and away from the burning brightness. When the two men stepped into the Rover’s headlights, they disappeared from her vision.
One chance. Sophia opened the driver’s side door and switched the headlights off, plunging the three men into total darkness. Points scored for middle of nowhere.
Mitch used the sudden blackout to kick the side of Ed’s knee. Ed crumbled to the ground in pain.
“Shoot him,” Ed said.
“I can’t see, you idiot!” Glenn shouted. He fumbled for the Rover’s door handle.
The agent ducked and ran, but tripped and crashed. Without light to bend, Sophia became visible. She darted after the agent. He regained his feet as she caught up to him.
“I can help you,” she whispered.
He jerked in surprise, but thankfully stayed quiet.
“Follow me. I have excellent night vision.” She put a hand on his arm and guided him towards her bike. “Hurry.”
They reached the bike as the Rover’s headlights lit up the area. Silently thanking Honda for electric starters, she mounted.
“Over there!” Ed yelled. “What the hell?”
A gun fired.
“Jump on,” she ordered. Panic threatened to scatter her senses, but she bit her lip.
The bike sank as Mitch’s weight compressed the suspension. He wouldn’t be able to hold on to her.
Another gunshot cracked through the air. Mitch grunted.
“Lean on me.” She put the bike in gear, then took off down the road and away from the Rover. Mitch’s stomach and chest pressed against her back.
Doors slammed and tyres spun on gravel.
“They’re chasing us,” Mitch said with urgency.
Great. Her heart dropped to her stomach to do a floor routine. Sophia reviewed her options. With his hands bound, she couldn’t ride off-road with him. The Rover’s headlights behind her caused sections of the road to disappear from her sight, making it difficult to navigate. She could bend the light around the bike, but if the headlights aimed directly at them, they would be suddenly visible.
She manoeuvred around a turn. Mitch leaned with her. He’s been on a bike before. Perhaps she could cut through the mountains and lose the Rover. She searched for an appropriate path.
When she spotted a tight trail, she turned so Mitch could hear her. “I’m going off-road. Match my movements.”
“Jesus, lady, you don’t even have a headlight.”
“Would you rather stay?”
“No.”
Slowing to half-speed because of her passenger, she struggled to find a path that wouldn’t unseat him. Curses, yells and a few more gunshots sounded. She concentrated on riding, pouring every ounce of energy into it.
“We lost them,” Mitch said.
With her arms shaking from fatigue, she stopped. Mitch dismounted and dropped to the ground.
“That was close,” he said. “You saved my life. Where the hell did you come from?”
She removed her helmet. Her long ponytail snagged in the strap. Sweat stung her eyes and soaked her shirt under the chest protector. “I was riding and saw you needed help.”
“In the middle of the night without a headlight?” His tone implied disbelief. “It’s pitch-black out here.”
“I told you I have good night vision. Besides, I grew up around here. I know these hills like a bat knows its cave.”
“What’s your name - Bat Woman?”
“No. Wonder Woman. My invisible plane is in for repairs so I had to use my super bike.”
His shoulders sagged. “Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m Mitch Wolfe - a federal agent, and I’m going to need more of your help.”
“Sophia Daniels. I’ll do what I can.”
“First, I need to get these cuffs off.”
“My tool kit—”
“I have a key in the—” he cringed “—waistband of my underwear.”
She couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Are they special spy underwear?”
“Yep. They’re bulletproof, too. A man can’t be too cautious when it comes to personal safety.” He laughed with a deep, rich rumble that rolled right through her. “It’s a master handcuff key. It’s along my left side.” He regained his feet.
His grey T-shirt was ripped and stained with blood. Too much blood. She gasped. “You’ve been shot.”
“I felt a nick.”
She pulled his shirt up. A deep gash oozed near his ribs on the left, cutting across the ripple of muscles along his abdomen. “It’s more of a slice. You’re going to need sutures.”
“Sutures? Don’t tell me my nocturnal rescuer is also a doctor because that would be another hell of a coincidence.”
“My father was a paramedic. I have supplies—”
“Later. Key first.”
Sophia tried pulling the waistband up past his jeans.
“You need to unbutton the pants,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
She hesitated before fumbling at the button. Wonderful, Sophia, she chided. You’re coordinated enough to jump a dirt bike over Ranger’s Gap, but you can’t undo one button. An eternity later, she ripped the key from his waistband and unlocked the cuffs.
He groaned with relief, rubbing his raw wrists. Sophia realized she stood rather close to him, and he was a stranger. He was about six inches taller than her own five foot eight, and had arms like a professional quarterback. He looked about thirty, a few years older than her. Mitch claimed to be a federal agent, but she didn’t have any proof.
She remembered his injury and reached for the first-aid kit in her backpack but stopped. Her pack! She had left it by the airstrip. A quick mental scan of the contents made her relax. No personal information, but she didn’t have the kit, food or water.
He tapped his pockets. “Shit. They took my wallet, phone and gun. Do you have a cell?” Mitch rebuttoned his jeans.
“No signals out here.”
“Where then? I need to make a call. The sooner the better.”
She sighed. No other choice. Her house was the closest. “I have a landline.”
“Within walking distance?” A hopeful note crept into his voice.
“No. About twenty miles off-road.”
“And on the road?”
“Fifty.”
“Damn. I’m going to have to trust your night vision again, aren’t I?”
“Yep.” Buckling up the chest protector, she donned her helmet.
A queasy expression creased his sharp nose and he rubbed his hand along his five o’clock shadow. Long black eyelashes matched his almost military-style short black hair. His uninjured blue eye stared at her in concern.
“Relax, Mitch. I’ll get us there in one piece. After we jump the chasm of death, we’re home free.”
“Funny,” he deadpanned. “I don’t suppose you have another helmet?”
“Nope. But if we do crash, I’ll aim for the right side to even out your injuries.”
He gave her a wry grin. “Enduring poor attempts at humour is better than being dead. At least, you have a decent bike. My fragile male ego wouldn’t be able to handle being rescued by a lady on a scooter.”
With a passenger on board, the trip to her house lasted twice as long as normal. Mitch clutched her waist with a vice grip. He cursed and muttered under his breath, but matched the rhythm of the bike’s motion.
When they arrived at her small log cabin, he slid off on unsteady legs. The bloodstain on his shirt had spread. Sophia tossed her helmet and gear into a pile. Leaving the bike next to her shed, she led him into the living room.
The place followed the standard mountain cabin decor -comfortable recliners, plaid-patterned couch, faux bear rug and animal paintings.
“Sit down before you fall down.” Sophia guided Mitch to the couch.
“Are you going to turn on the lights or did you forget to pay your electric bill?” he asked with a nervous edge.
She closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the strength for a difficult explanation. If there had been a phone anywhere else, she would have avoided this.
Working up the nerve, she said, “I can’t tolerate visible light.”
“Can’t tolerate light? Like a vampire?” His confusion turned into alarm.
She huffed with exasperation. “I wish! At least vampires can go to a movie.”
Mitch gestured as if calming a crazy person. “Look, all I need is to use your phone.”
She sighed. Shouldn’t have made that vampire crack. “I’m sorry. I’m not explaining it well. I’m out of practice.” Sophia drew in a breath. Time for the standard spiel. She would love to tell the truth, but who, except the wrong people, would believe her? So instead, she said, “I have a rare disease called erythropoietic protoporphyria or EEP for short. Light kills my red blood cells, so I have to avoid all visible light, which means I live in the middle of nowhere with no TV, computer or ...” Human contact. But that sounded pathetic.
If anything, her story made him more uneasy. She wondered why.
“What do you do when the sun comes up?”
Retreat to my coffin. “I sleep during the day.”
He had an odd . . . queasy expression. Perhaps he searched for words of regret or encouragement that she didn’t deserve to hear. Before he could speak, she said, “There’s a phone and a lamp in the guest room, and a light in the guest bath. You can make your call and at least clean that gash before it becomes infected.”
“Phone call first.” He surged to his feet, but paused. “Where are we?”
“North of Shooting Creek, North Carolina.”
“North Carolina! I didn’t realize ...” He rubbed his hand on his swollen temple. “How far to Knoxville?”
“One hundred and thirty miles.”
“Damn.” He considered. “Do you have an address?”
“I have GPS coordinates. Will they work?”
“Yeah. I just wish I knew where they were heading,” he muttered more to himself than to her.
“Your friends?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Sophia realized he didn’t know about the farmhouse. She explained. “It’s isolated, but I can pull the GPS coordinates off a topographical map for you.” Strangely, her offer increased his apprehension.
“Good.” He seemed distracted. “Where ... is the phone?”
She took his hand in the pitch-darkness and guided him to the guest room. The cabin’s first floor contained a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom. Her room and another bath were down in the basement.
Handing Mitch the cordless phone, she put his other hand on the lamp switch. “Wait until you hear the door close before turning the light on. I’ll go pull the coordinates for you.”
“Thanks,” he said.
A strange hitch in his voice worried Sophia but, considering what the man had been through tonight, she didn’t blame him. She was halfway to the door when he flicked the lamp on. Blinding whiteness obscured her vision. She stumbled and bumped into a chair.
“What did you do that for?” she demanded, fumbling around. Where was that door? The light was too strong for her to bend.
Instead of answering, Mitch grabbed her wrists and pushed her against a wall.
“Let go!” Fear flushed through her. Idiot. Why hadn’t she asked for identification?
She tried to kick him, but missed. He pressed his weight on her, pinning her legs.
“You can’t see me, can you?” Accusation laced his voice.
“Turn off the light.”
“You’re working with Ed. What’s the purpose of your mock rescue?”
“I’m not working with anybody. Get off!”
“Don’t lie. I just have to look at your eyes to know you’re one of them. I suspected, but when you said you were ‘out of practice’ I knew for sure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re one of those. Who are you working for?”
Anger flared. “Guess I couldn’t fool a federal agent. You’re right, Sherlock. I saved you from those goons just so I could bring you back here and kill you.” She tapped her head against the wall. “Oh damn! I left my Glock in the other room.”
“You know what I mean,” he said. “Your so-called night vision is physically impossible. I’ve trained for night ops. There’s not enough light out here for night-vision goggles. You can see in the dark, but are blind in the light. So, who are you working for?”
She struggled to free herself, but his body trapped her. He wasn’t buying her medical condition bullshit. He knew all about her. Not only could she even see colours in the dark, but read, too. The blacker the night, the better her vision. She had been born with a strange power and, as far as she knew, there weren’t too many other people like her in the world.
“Tell me now or I’ll take you into custody for questioning.”
An image of being blind and helpless in an unknown place filled her with dread. Avoiding that situation had been the whole reason she lived here. She was out of options. Shit. “I’m not working for anybody. That’s the whole point of living miles away from civilization.”
That made him pause. “You’re in hiding?”
“Give Mr Super Detective a gold star.”
“From who?” The suspicion was back.
“Everyone!” Her father would be livid if he were alive. She had just undermined all his efforts to keep the government from knowing where she was hiding. Sophia would never forget the day the agents had visited them. They had called her special, and wanted her to train at an exclusive school to become an agent. Her father promised them he’d take her there. Instead of driving to the school, he headed for the hills. When she questioned him, he had explained that the government would train her to sneak around in the dark, stealing, spying and killing people for them.
“And you’re the worst.”
“Me?” Mitch balked.
“Yes. You said it yourself. The government wants to exploit people like me. We can see in the dark. That’s a handy skill for an agent. The Federal Agency for Supernatural Security, my ass. You guys are the one group of people who give me no sense of security whatsoever. What is it you guys call us, again? The phrase is so hateful.”
Mitch hesitated. “Blind assassins. But they do other . . . jobs as well.”
“Do you think the members volunteer?”
“No. No, they don’t,” he said in a quiet voice. “In fact, for a long time I thought blind assassins were just an urban legend. Agents would blame them for unexplained events, things you would usually blame a ghost for, like rearranging your knick-knacks, or hiding your car keys. An agent even joked once that Bin Laden used a blind assassin to help him escape through the caves in Afghanistan. At least, I thought he was joking until . . .”
He released his hold. She didn’t wait. Inching along the wall, she searched for the doorway with her hands. Was she even going the right way?
The lamp switched off, flooding the room with darkness. She sagged with relief. Mitch sat on the edge of the bed with his hand on the lamp.
She darted to the doorway, but paused at the threshold. “Until . . . what?”
“Until tonight,” he said.
“Are you going—”
“No. I won’t tell anyone about you.” He gave her a sad smile. “But I might try to recruit you. You could find Bin Laden’s hideout and—”
“Not interested.”
He sighed. “Could you get the coordinates of the farmhouse for me?”
“Sure. There’s a first-aid kit in the linen closet, clean T-shirts in the drawers. They’re my father’s, but . . . but he’s dead. The shirts should fit you; he used to be a firefighter before he was a paramedic.” She babbled, but couldn’t stop herself. “There’s food in the kitchen and flashlights in the closet. Help yourself.”
Sophia ran downstairs to her bedroom. Embarrassed and upset, she had a whole gymnastic team of emotions doing twists and flips in her chest. He had attacked and threatened her and she had transformed into Miss Manners. She should have kicked him out. One phone call, buddy and go. Was she that desperate for company? Yes, she was.
Before tonight she thought she didn’t need anyone. She had her books, her dirt bike, her pen pals, and was learning how to paint.
God, you are pathetic.
She wanted to hide under the blankets, but she needed a shower and had promised Mitch those coordinates. Kicking off her motorcycle boots, she headed for the bathroom. She peeled off her long-sleeved riding shirt and padded bike pants. Not very sexy.
Her father had threatened to pull the spark plug from her bike if she didn’t wear all the gear. Mr Safety. She missed him like crazy. He had changed his lifestyle for her, sleeping in the daytime so he could be with her at night. He taught her how to hunt and how to ride.
He saved her from being taken by the government or by one of those other agencies of questionable repute. Someone with my skills can be beneficial to all types of organizations. Drug smugglers, weapons dealers, the military . . .
Sophia shivered and jerked her thoughts to the present. She hesitated before removing her underwear. The idea of being naked with a strange man in the house unnerved her. She snorted. Unnerved. Wonderful. Considering how long ago it was that her last boyfriend declared he was too “freaked out” by her whole nocturnal existence and left, she should be seducing the handsome agent by now. She was pathetic and spouting clichés. Handsome agent. Pah.
After a quick shower, she changed into jeans and another long-sleeved shirt. Sophia combed her hair. With her pale skin, dark hair and silver eyes, no wonder he thought she was a vampire.
Her hair used to lighten in the sun. She had an almost normal childhood. That was the hardest part of her condition. Her eyesight had deteriorated as she aged. When she turned twelve, she was blind in bright light but, with a concentrated effort, she could bend the dim or indirect light rays around her body so she could see. But this had an unfortunate side effect; her father had jumped out of his skin the first time she had turned invisible. The appropriate name for someone with her talents was Light Bender.
Sophia rummaged through her desk for Standing Indiana Mountain’s topographical map and pulled the coordinates of the farmhouse.
She crept up the stairs. A thin line of white shone under his door. The deep murmur of Mitch’s voice sounded. She slid the paper underneath and retreated to the kitchen. One a.m. already. Her stomach grumbled. Slicing apples, she wondered if Mitch was hungry. Should she make him a sandwich? No. Miss Manners had told him to help himself.
Light illuminated the hallway as his door opened. He replaced the bright lamp with a flashlight’s beam.
Not wanting to surprise him, she said, “I’m in the kitchen.”
He stopped at the threshold, aiming the flashlight down. Water dripped from his wet hair onto his bare muscular chest. A whole new slew of clichés jumped up and down in Sophia’s head. Her heart threatened to join in.
“Um. Could you help? I think it needs to be stitched.” He held bandages and her father’s fire department T-shirt. The gash below his ribs oozed. “Can you do that?” At least this time he tried to mask his suspicion.
She bit back a sarcastic reply. “As long as you’re not allergic to lidocaine.”
“And if I am?”
“Then I’ll give you a shot of whiskey and a rolled-up washcloth to bite down on.”
He laughed. “I’ll pass on the washcloth, but the whiskey sounds good.”
After she collected the supplies, she told him to sit sideways on the couch. He settled into position then doused the flashlight.
She crouched next to him, filling the syringe. “This is going to pinch, but it will numb the area.” He smelled of soap and Old Spice - an intoxicating mix. To distract her senses, she asked him if he finished making phone calls.
“Yeah. My team will pick me up, but it’ll take them a while to get here.”
“How long?”
He squinted with suspicion. “Why do you want to know?”
“So I can tip Rick off.” Sarcasm dripped, but his reaction surprised her.
He grabbed her arm. “How did you know Rick’s name?”
“I overheard them talking.”
“And you waited until now to tell me,” he said with an outraged disbelief.
“Since we’ve just been sitting around doing nothing all night, I didn’t want to ruin the mood.” She knocked his hand away. Finishing the sutures, Sophia tied off the thread and bandaged his wound a little more harshly than necessary.
Mitch touched her shoulder. “Sorry.” He pulled her beside him on the couch.
A strange tingling rushed through her as she realized his warm fingers still rested on her.
“It’s disconcerting to hear your voice, but not be able to see you. I need a ... physical connection. OK?”
“Sure.” Her voice rasped. How embarrassing! But she relaxed and left his fingers on her arm.
“Could you please tell me everything you heard?” he asked.
As Sophia recited, Mitch stiffened. She felt his anxiety vibrate through his touch.
“A mesh bag? Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He swore. “And—” his voice cracked “—a 4 a.m. pick up tonight?”
“I don’t know if they meant tonight.”
He covered his eyes with his other hand. “My team won’t be here in time. Maybe we can intercept the vehicle. Is there another road out?”
“The airstrip.”
“What?”
“There’s a landing strip next to the farmhouse.”
Mitch shot to his feet. “I need to get there. Now!”
“What ‘treasures’ are worth risking your life for?”
“Classified. I need a ride—”
“Not until you tell me.”
His hands balled into fists. She scrambled away as he stepped forwards. Mitch stopped and drew in a deep breath. “Those guys are kidnappers. They smuggle young girls to foreign countries. Young girls with special . . . talents. Some, like you, are blind assassins ... I mean—” he quickly corrected himself “—light benders.”
“I don’t believe you. There aren’t many people like me in the world.”
“I think you’d be surprised. Hiding in your cabin all the time, you’re a little out of touch with reality.”
Emotion roughened his voice. “I sent my little sister to a special school after our mother died. She insisted she didn’t belong in there because she could . . . see in the dark. I didn’t believe her, of course. Your condition is rare—”
She interjected, “It’s not a condition.” Then she stopped herself as the picture became clearer. “Your sister is a light bender, isn’t she?”
His fingers raked his damp hair. “The kidnappers think so. But I hadn’t made the connection before meeting you. I was visiting her at the school last night when they jumped us. But I thought she had escaped. She disappeared while I was fighting with Ed’s friend.”
Mitch’s sister was in the mesh bag. Sophia bolted from the couch. “Let’s go.”
Mitch donned the T-shirt and ran to the phone to update his team, careful to keep his flashlight out of her eyes. She dashed out the back to prep her bike. When Mitch joined her she said, “My father’s helmet is in the shed.”
“Any weapons?”
“Hunting rifles.”
“Ammo?”
“In the cabinet in the living room. Take the thirty-thirty and my Winchester.”
“Yours? Oh no. You’re just giving me a ride. After you drop me off, you’re coming back here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can see in the dark.”
Although unhappy, Mitch agreed, with conditions. “You are to do exactly what I say. No free styling. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Grumbling, Mitch used the flashlight to find the guns and helmet. He strapped the rifles on his back. The trip to the airstrip wasn’t as exhausting as the ride home. Mitch’s hold stayed loose. He moulded his body to her back. Although his warmth distracted her at times, the connection helped him match her movements faster. She realized he trusted her.
The Honda chugged up the mountain and crested on the far side of the runway. She cut the engine and coasted to a small dip. Mitch handed her the Winchester.
“Here’s the plan,” he said. “We’ll approach the house from the east side. If they’re still there, I’ll get in close to see who is where. You stay put. You’re my sniper. If the guys try to drive away, shoot out their tyres. Only if you have a clear shot.”
“What are you going to do if they stay?”
“Wait. It’s three thirty. If the plane comes at four, they’ll leave the house with the girls and I’ll surprise them. Otherwise, I’ll wait for my team.”
His plan sounded simple. The element of surprise combined with her night vision should work well together. Something about famous last words echoed in her mind, but she squashed all doubts. She remembered listening to her father lecture the rookies at the firehouse before the blindness forced her into isolation. He’d tell them to switch off their emotions, to think and act now, and leave the worries and the panic for later.
Good advice, Dad. But how do I get the rest of my body to comply? Her insides felt jittery and her palms left wet prints on her rifle.
Sophia led Mitch to the east side. Both vehicles were parked in the driveway and lights shone from the first-floor windows. The kidnappers hadn’t left.
Mitch’s relieved expression matched hers. He had enough light to navigate on his own. He pointed to the ground and mouthed the word “stay”. She saluted. He flashed her a grin, turned away, then paused.
Something wrong?
Her heart decided to go for a gold medal in the hundred-yard dash. I spent way too much time listening to the Olympics on the radio.
Mitch moved to whisper in her ear. “Just in case I don’t get a chance later, thank you for saving my life.”
“Make sure you hold on to it. I doubt the next time you’re in trouble that a blind assassin will ride to your rescue.”
Another smile. She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned.
He cupped her chin and peered at her. “A supernatural beauty.” His gaze met hers.
Her body turned to stone as all her nerve endings rushed to where his fingers touched her jaw. He leaned in and kissed her. Sensation flared on her lips and she returned the kiss.
He pulled away. Sophia watched him for as long as he remained visible. Once he neared the house, she lost him in the light. She scanned the second-floor windows and thought she spotted movement, but couldn’t be certain.
Glad the night air stayed calm, Sophia practised aiming at the tyres with her Winchester rifle. Scanning the black sky, she searched for signs of an approaching airplane. All quiet. After a few more minutes, she decided waiting sucked.
When the grunts and sounds of a scuffle reached her, she changed her mind. Waiting was better. A thud followed a curse and she heard voices, but not Mitch’s.
“Told you the ambush would work,” Ed said.
“Bring him inside,” Rick said.
A door slammed. They had expected him. How? Didn’t matter at this point. Mitch and the girls were in the brightly-lit house. Panic bubbled up her throat, but she gulped it down.
Think now, freak out later.
Option one: wait until they left the house to meet the plane at 4 a.m. She would play sniper, incapacitating them one by one. Won’t work. They would scatter at the sound of the first shot.
Option two: hit the aeroplane when it landed. Unable to fly, they would be forced to drive out and, best-case scenario, run into Mitch’s team. No. They would kill Mitch. No reason for them to take him along.
Option three: cut off the electricity and tip the playing field in her favour. Not the best plan, but she had a winner.
Sophia moved with care, circling the house. She searched for the electric box. The light from the windows made it impossible to find. She would have to crawl around the outside walls and explore with her hands. Approaching the house from the back side seemed logical; she held out a hand and entered the whiteness. She tried to avoid the direct light.
When her fingers touched the wood siding, she began the hunt. Two hands would be faster, but she wasn’t stupid enough to put her weapon down.
On the west side of the house she heard loud voices through the window.
“. . . your friend?” Rick asked.
“Dropped me off and went home,” Mitch said.
He was conscious and alive. Sophia let out a quiet breath as relief washed through her. The feeling didn’t last long.
A high-pitched squeal of pain sliced the air. “Mitch!”
His sister. Sophia wilted.
“Let’s go over your story again,” Rick said. “We know your biker friend was near the house and heard us talking about you because Ed found a backpack and tyre tracks nearby. Biker then follows the Rover and rescues you in a blaze of glory. Here’s where your story gets . . . creative.” He chuckled without humour. “You claim the biker took you to a rustic cabin with no electricity or phones, helped you clean up, and then brought you back here. Is this correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Glenn,” Rick said.
A heart-breaking scream erupted. Sophia rolled into a ball to keep from pounding on the window and surrendering.
“You won’t hurt her,” Mitch said in a flat, deadly tone.
“We already have,” Glenn said.
“Surface bruises. You won’t damage the merchandise or you’ll lose thousands of dollars.”
Mitch just bought her a few extra minutes. She hurried. She found the box and pulled out her Swiss Army knife. Silently thanking her father for teaching her another fireman’s trick, she unlocked the box and turned off the electricity.
Her night vision returned as cries and curses sounded. She ran to the window and peered in. Ed and the Tank held Mitch tight. Glenn had one arm wrapped around a young girl. He had backed into a corner with his other hand pointing a gun. Rick told everyone to calm down.
“The biker only knows one trick,” Rick said. “Stay put, I’ll get the spotlight.” He felt his way from the room.
Sophia aimed her rifle. A million worries and doubts boiled in her stomach. What if she missed? Act now, agonize later. She held her breath, braced for the recoil, and squeezed the trigger.
The window shattered, the noise ricocheted around the room, and Glenn slammed into the wall. The bullet pierced his shoulder right at the joint of his shooting arm. The force knocked him out. He slid to the floor with a thud.
Bingo! One down, three to go.
The girl yelled and threw herself flat, covering her head with her arms. Her brother had taught her well. Sophia swung the rifle towards the others. Ed dived into the hallway, but the Tank had his arm around Mitch’s neck, pinning the agent in front of him as a shield.
“Shoot him,” Mitch called.
Where? Mitch covered almost all of the Tank. And she wasn’t a sharpshooter. Then she realized Mitch’s hands weren’t bound. One grasped the Tank’s meaty forearm, but the other pointed down. The guy’s knee poked out between Mitch’s legs.
Oh shit. She aimed. I bet Mitch is wishing for a real pair of bulletproof underwear. She fired the gun and the bullet hit the Tank’s knee, obliterating it. Yuck. Mitch broke away as the Tank screamed.
“Jenna?” Mitch called, searching for his sister. They connected. The girl wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.
“It’s OK,” he said over and over.
I wish. She kept watch for the two men who escaped. The sound of an engine turning over came from the front of the house. Headlights stabbed the darkness.
“Mitch, they’re in the Rover,” she said.
The noise grew louder as the light brightened.
“Go!” Mitch ordered.
Sophia sprinted around the back of the house, hoping to loop behind them and shoot out their tyres. When she reached the front, light blinded her. She forgot about the pickup truck.
A shot boomed. Wood splintered. She dived to the ground, dropping her rifle, but kept moving, pulling herself along as if the air was filled with smoke. Gravel scraped her forearms as she sought the edge of light.
She bumped into a solid object. Please be a tree trunk, she prayed. But even blind there was no mistaking the touch of cold hard metal on her temple. A wave of terror swept through her.
“Stand up,” Rick said.
She stood. The gun remained.
“Son of a bitch. No wonder you’ve been giving us such trouble. Are you working for the feds?” he asked.
“Yes, and my team will be here any minute.”
He laughed. “Nice try.” He shoved her forwards. “Up against the house.”
Rick pushed her into the wood siding. The peeling paint chips scratched her cheek, a minor thing considering the gun’s barrel now pressed on the back of her neck. She heard the Rover squeal to a stop.
“Did you get him?” Ed asked.
Rick snorted. “Our biker’s a light bender.”
Well, at least he used the right name . . .
“No shit!”
“Take the rifle and check the house. Let Mitch know we have his friend.”
Rick must have turned the lights back on. Time flowed like sweet tea - the kind with so much sugar it had the consistency of syrup. Sweat collected and dripped down her back. Why didn’t I ride over to Nantahala Lake tonight?
Finally, Ed returned. “Mitch and his sister have disappeared. Glenn’s gun is gone and he and Max are in bad shape.”
The tightness in her chest eased a bit. She hoped Mitch took his sister far away.
“The kids?”
“Gone too.”
Rick cursed. “Get the spotlight and go find them,” Rick ordered. “They couldn’t have gone far.” He grabbed Sophia’s arm and propelled her into the house. “You saved his life and he left you behind. That’s gotta hurt.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “I’d rather he save those girls than me.” And she meant it. They could have full lives ahead of them — high school, graduation, college, romance, marriage and babies, if they weren’t forced to become night-time operatives for some government. Her existence was just that, an existence. She had retreated from the world, but. . . she didn’t have to. Suddenly a whole list of things she could do scrolled through her mind. If she had a second chance, she wouldn’t hide any more. If not, then exchanging her life for four others would be consolation enough.
The fear left her, leaving behind a peaceful confidence.
Rick kept his hold and the gun on her. The hot scent of blood filled the air, gagging her. A man moaned in pain.
“Damn, lady. You sure did a number on them.”
“They’re survivable injuries,” she said.
“But they’re no good to me now. I can’t take them with me and I can’t leave them here.”
The gun moved. “No!” she yelled. She spun, knocking his arm away as the gun fired. They fell together.
He rolled on top of her, pinning her down with his weight. Rick pressed the red-hot barrel into her neck. She cried out as the smell of burning flesh replaced the cloying blood scent.
“You’re dead,” he said.
She jerked as the gun roared. Pain blazed. Sophia struggled to draw breath as a heavy weight settled on her chest. Warm liquid soaked her shirt. Can’t breathe. She felt light as her father called her name. Then he shook her shoulders . . . hard. When he slapped her, she tried to punch him, but he grabbed her wrist.
“Are you all right?” Mitch asked.
She felt her neck. Aside from the burn, it remained whole, but the metallic tang of blood dominated her senses. Her hands were sticky. “Rick?”
“Dead. Come on.” Mitch pulled her to her feet.
She wobbled. “The girls? Ed?”
“Oldest trick in the book. I hid the girls in the basement, and left the back door wide open. Ed’s out cold.” He wrapped her in a hug. “I’ve done a number of stupid things today, but I wasn’t going to leave you.”
She clung to him, enjoying his warmth and strength. “Thanks for saving—”
He silenced her with a kiss. All too soon he broke away. “Just returning the favour.”
Mitch kissed her again, but this one had a feeling of finality about it. He led her outside. The darkness embraced her and she fanned her blistered neck.
“My team will be here in an hour. You need to go.” He was all business.
Despite the ache chewing holes in her heart Sophia understood he was protecting her.
Her moment of clarity had given her plenty of ideas of how to use her talent to help people. Even though she could see in the dark, it didn’t mean she had to live there.
An icy chill gripped her. She slogged to her bike. The ride home blurred into one long endurance test, ending with a collapse on her bed.
Months passed. Sophia ventured back into society. The Association for the Blind taught her how to live in the light. She reconnected with the people at her father’s firehouse. No longer afraid of being caught by the feds, Sophia explored the limits of her unique talent. She stopped hiding and rejoined the world. At night, her activities became more clandestine. She aided a search and rescue mission, helping to find a lost boy scout, and she followed a potential arsonist, stopping him before he set another barn fire.
Sophia was painting when headlights swept her cabin. The Association was delivering her guide dog tonight. Eager to meet her furry companion, she hurried outside. Caught in the headlights, she didn’t need to act blind. She clutched a post on her porch to keep from tripping. When the lights extinguished, she saw a huge pickup truck with a Suzuki Z250 in the bed parked in her driveway. No dog.
Mitch hopped down from the driver’s seat. She blinked, but he remained.
“What do you think?” He gestured to the bike.
“You should have bought a Honda instead of a Suck-zuki,” she said.
“They’re fighting words. You’ll change your mind when you’re eating my dust.”
She laughed. “You think you can keep up with me?”
He reached into the cab and pulled out a helmet. “State-of-the-art night-vision visor.” He glanced up. A waning half-moon hung in the sky. “Plenty of light. Want to go for a ride?”
“I can’t. I’m waiting for a dog.”
“A dog’s more important?” he asked with a neutral tone.
“The dog’s here to stay, and isn’t just visiting for a joyride.”
He set the helmet on the seat, and strode towards her. He wore her father’s T-shirt. The bruises on his face were long gone, and her insides flipped when he reached her.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’ve been keeping track of this area, reading the local papers and doing internet searches.” He touched her neck, rubbing a thumb over her burn scar. “Seems a few unexplained, yet happy incidents have occurred in the Smoky Mountains these past three months.” He dropped his hand. “Guess I was wrong about you.”
“No. You were right. I’ve been hiding for a long time. Afraid to use my talents.”
“And now you’re not?”
“No. I’m still afraid, but I won’t let it stop me.”
“Admirable.” He smiled. “Are you brave enough to expand your nocturnal activities, and work with a partner?”
“It depends.”
His smile faltered. “On what?”
“On how close of a partnership you’re talking about.”
He pulled her towards him. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her. “Is this close enough?”
Instead of answering, she led him to her dark bedroom. “You can get closer. How’s your night vision?”
Mitch grinned. “Excellent.”
Maria V. Snyder
Award-winning, New York Times bestselhng author of Poison Study, Magic Study and Fire Study Her next book, Storm Glass will be out in spring 2009, and Sea Glass follows in the autumn.
mariavsnyder.com
Constable & Robinson Ltd
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First published in the UK by Robinson, an imprint of Constable & Robinson, 2009
“Night Vision” © by Maria V. Snyder. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
The right of Trisha Telep to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
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UK ISBN 978-1-84529-941-5
First published in the United States in 2009 by Running Press Book Publishers
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