Threshold of Danger (A Guardian Time Travel Novel Book 1) Read online

  Sam shook her head.

  She should've insisted on meeting Ricky's mother. Today. Right now. Made him go home. Forced him to abandon this idea.

  Whatever this was.

  The chirp of birds, scuttling of forest life, and occasional beat of tires on pavement outside the popular campground in Shaver Lake hit Sam's ears as she picked her way through the growth leading down to the public access beach front. Ricky was ten steps ahead of her—sans skateboard, thankfully.

  She didn't need to explain to his mother how he'd broken his neck swerving through the trees and jumping over the large roots on their way down to the shoreline.

  And if he'd had his board he would've tried it. Left Sam in his dust for a little adventure. Come back, circled her, and done it again.

  There was already a crowd of lake-goers setting up their beach adventure, kids in swimsuits in the water while their parents tended to an easy-up shade. A woman glanced her way, her smile a little unsure as she noted Sam's attire. Her favorite skinny black dress pants, Smythe blazer, and chunky bracelets were certainly not lake appropriate.

  She should've been more specific. Laid down the guidelines. She knew that. Ricky was a quick thinker—always had been as far as she could tell. He'd take her acceptance and run with it every time.

  Or slingshot, in this case.

  The incline flattened a bit and Ricky moved left over the terrain. She followed. "Are you planning to explain this?"

  Instead of taking her car as she'd envisioned—or grabbing a frozen yogurt somewhere and discussing this super-important-cannot-wait-revelation—her agreement to five minutes had propelled them to the Sierra National Forest. To one of the most popular camping spots in California.

  Ricky's doing.

  She hadn't traveled in months. On purpose.

  Because she didn't need or want to.

  It didn't have anything to do with last year. With seeing the flames lap at an innocent man's flesh and knowing there was nothing she could do.

  Nope.

  She'd know the second the warehouse went up in flames that absorbing in time would do little more than refresh the scene. Ensure they all endured it repeatedly, maybe even experienced a worse set of events.

  She knew better than to tamper with something best left alone.

  And still you went inside.

  "An explanation would've taken too long." Ricky veered left again, this time moving up as if the change in elevation didn't bother him at all. "Showing you is easier."

  "By bringing us to a wooded path?" She pulled in a stilted breath and vowed to work out more, then followed, avoiding the low hanging branches filled with dust and pollen. Thankfully she'd worn flats today instead of heels. Not that heels had been her best friend as of late. Not with her...

  How's the leg?

  Answering the question in as nonchalant a tone as possible had been her go-to since the warehouse. Since she'd woken up in the hospital and not known who had made it out alive and who hadn't. Since she'd discovered she hadn't saved the life she'd gone in there for at all. That everything had burned to the ground including Theo Trenton and the men who'd held him captive.

  That, for once, hard work and intuition hadn't gotten her anything except a giant scar and heartache. She'd been so sure she could ride in and save two lives.

  She'd been attempting to stave off the flames ever since. "You know if Lucinda gets wind of this—"

  "She won't." Confidence floated on the syllables.

  "I think you're underestimating the woman we're talking about. She probably has a record of every cookie you've ever eaten inside the office."

  He shrugged.

  "When Haley and I were kids, she knew if we sneezed funny."

  He shot a glance back at her. "Lucinda doesn't scare me."

  She hadn't really scared Sam when she'd been a kid either. A kid with the world at her fingertips. Lucinda had been the barrier between her and the Colonel's stoic silence. The person who responded to a good grade in school, put hot meals on the table, and discovered trouble.

  "This is the quickest way to travel. It's not like it's a secret between us." He stopped a few feet in front of her. Turned toward her, his eyes bright. "You can see the burst, slingshot, or absorption when it happens."

  Her step faltered. Her gaze flicked around the area, found nothing but trees and wildlife. The family ten yards below them hadn't paused in their efforts. The mom chased after the toddler who was headed for the water.

  They'd never talked about this. Their interactions prior to last year had been mostly that of a kid and adult—when he didn't show up like today. They'd joke around, he'd do homework in her office, or tell her about some crazy adventure he'd had with friends or a wicked jump he'd conquered on his skateboard.

  Time travel had never come up. Not that she ever discussed it with anyone—not even Haley who shared the same gift. Not since they were little. And certainly not the Colonel who could barely stomach the day-to-day niceties. A kid wasn't likely the best way to delve back in. "Listen, you need to be careful. If anyone—"

  "You can see it." His voice lowered. "You've seen me come and go. As if you're in my mind too."

  Everything inside of her stopped. She didn't know about the whole mind thing. "No. That's not—"

  "It's rare, Sam."

  She shook her head. "You need to slow down. I'm not in anyone's mind. That's impossible." And what she did could be done by anybody. The average person only needed to pay attention. Listen with something other than the five senses.

  He stepped closer to her. "It's also dangerous. It could be used against you."

  Foreboding angled into her spine. Had her wanting out of this forest. Back to the relative normalcy of the office. "You say that like you know something I should know."

  An emotion she couldn't describe passed over his features before disappearing. "All I'm saying is it could save Anne's life. That's why we're here. That's why I came."

  Was it really?

  "Anne?" He couldn't mean...

  He pointed toward her bag. "The girl. I've seen her and I know you can, too, if you try."

  She shook her head. "If you've seen her, why not save her and we can be done with this? She can be reunited with her family—"

  Ricky took in a deep breath. Let it out slowly as if his patience wore thin. "You know time travel doesn't work that way. I've seen her only in the past. But you can see her today. Right now."

  A flash of a forest—another spot—cropped up in her mind, the sun fading into the horizon. The metallic smell floated in the air. It was cold. She could feel it against her bare skin. There was a hand on her arm, a death grip like no other and something cold and unrelenting pinning both arms behind her back. They'd been that way a while, because they were numb. Or maybe it was that cold. Her legs were tied with a length of rope with only enough space for her to take small steps. She tripped. The hand didn't let her fall too far. She would've screamed if there hadn't been tape across her mouth.

  Show me where she's gone.

  "Sam." Ricky's voice penetrated the scene. The words had been spoken from a voice she'd never heard before. A face she couldn't conjure.

  "Okay." She let out a laugh that was far from the emotion, her heart caught up in her throat. "That's not how I solve cases. I don't just travel in time however and whenever I want. That's dangerous." It required careful planning. An explanation that didn't raise suspicion. "Is that what you're doing, Ricky? Because—"

  There was a crunch of footsteps behind her. She jumped toward the noise. Her right hand went for her hip. But her gun was back at Hope Alive. In a safe, because most of the time she didn't need it. Even though the Colonel urged her to wear it at all times.

  A glance around revealed nothing. The family was still down at the lake, the parents in the water next to the children now. The same birds and squirrels were around them as moments ago.

  But her heart wouldn't slow.

  "No." Ricky grabbed her wrist. R
efocused her attention. "I'm not being careless. I promise. I only travel when it's safe. Or when I have to."

  "Safe?" What did that even mean? Every aspect of time travel could be considered dangerous given the right circumstance. "Is there some kind of guidebook I'm missing on all this?"

  Ricky's gaze moved around the area. "Do you trust me?"

  "What?" Her heart revved up double time. They needed to get out of here. Go back home. "You're eleven. That's the question I ask you."

  "Sam." He tugged on her arm. "You can find her. It's a math problem. It's in your head. In your connections. In—"

  Another crunch came, and she whipped around. When she turned back, Ricky was gone, leaving her in the middle of the forest. Alone. Without any kind of transportation except her own ability to absorb or slingshot, which she hadn't used in forever.

  Alone, except for the man approaching her. The man whose broad shoulders were covered by a light blue button-up shirt tucked into dark dress pants. Elliot's lips formed a firm, serious line that mirrored the rest of his expression. Coming into contact with her.

  Trust me...

  Ricky had done this on purpose. Had drug Sam out to this spot with a bunch of mumbo-jumbo that didn't make sense and left her here with more questions than answers. With Elliot, who'd definitely expect something. An explanation. Something that warranted her coming out here.

  Why don't you explain everything...

  She doubted a full-scale evasion would work this time around. Or that he'd write up a report and move on his merry way. Put adequate distance between himself and Hope Alive. Write off the difference.

  Irritation flared through her body. When Sam got back to Fresno, she was calling Ricky's mom. Make sure she knew exactly what he'd been up to. And the next time she saw Ricky, she was going to give him a piece of her mind. Make him explain everything he knew.

  Starting with how he knew she could see time travel.

  If Elliot Knight didn't interrogate her within an inch of her life first.

  Which is what he'd done after the incident last summer, his words and questions communicating exactly how he felt about their botched rescue mission.

  She held her breath.

  Elliot stopped in front of her and held up a file, the sunglasses on his face hiding violet-blue eyes that haunted her dreams and the confirmation that his inner thoughts mirrored his stance. His light brown hair was short-cropped. The cologne he wore swirled around her, eating up the cloying scent of leaves, dust, and pollen.

  He was at least six inches taller than her five-seven stature, his broad shoulders broadcasting that he spent time working out. A dark emotion radiated from him—like carefully controlled anger. It tangled around her and squeezed. Her heart picked up tempo, a small part of her expecting a continuation of their prior interrogation after the fire.

  What did you hope to accomplish going in alone?

  She'd wanted to snap back that she'd hoped to save a life—two lives. But the pain in her leg had been unbearable and her heart had been too heavy to really put up much of a verbal fight. He'd likely wanted to say a lot more, but hadn't.

  Elliot moved his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing eyes ten times more vividly blue than in her memory. Had her mind doing a pretty stellar job of erasing all the warning signals about why she needed to keep this short. Why she needed to keep him off the case. And why she was totally fine with his giant step back from Hope Alive.

  He was a giant distraction she couldn't afford. And he was far too astute to overlook the "random occurrences" that happened in her life.

  "Getting a head start on this?"

  So much for stopping this exact scenario. "Have to start somewhere."

  "You think being out here alone is smart?" There was a clip in Elliot's voice—unlike the calm version she'd heard on his voicemail less than an hour ago. Unlike any she got from the other operatives she worked with in her career.

  The other operatives had faith in her ability to save a life, but not Elliot. He hadn't stuck around longer than the time it took to fill out paperwork after they'd talked. And Sam never intended to explain the entire situation—the reason she'd been in that warehouse last year alone.

  Alone had been the only option. The safest option for everyone involved, even though it went against Hope Alive protocol.

  But she couldn't admit that. Like she wasn't going to admit she hadn't been alone right now. She doubted an eleven-year-old counted as the best choice of backup in his eyes. In anyone's. "I'm in the middle of a campground. I'm not exactly alone."

  One brown eyebrow arched upward. "Famous last words of a lot of people who end up missing. I'm sure you're well aware of the fact."

  Of course he would throw up technicalities. "It was an impromptu visit."

  "Spurred by?"

  "The details." She started up the trail to her left, where the trees got more dense and the terrain a little more steep. Tried to get the frustration bubbling in her system under control. "How'd you end up here?"

  "Details." He fell into step next to her, his frame too large for the minimal amount of space on the narrow path. With every move he made, she smelled cedarwood, laundry soap, and musk—pure Elliot. "And a car. I didn't see yours parked anywhere."

  No, and that would pose a problem if he didn't leave before her. "And yet you still managed to find me."

  "You mean the only person within three miles wearing the exact opposite of a swimsuit?" He gave a shake of his head. "Yeah, it was hard."

  Laughter burst from her mouth before she could stop it. "You talked to the Colonel."

  His pace slowed for a fraction of a second. "He showed up at my house unannounced. That sort of makes it difficult to do otherwise."

  Sam stopped. Shook her head. Wasn't that just like the Colonel? Cornering his subject in order to control the outcome.

  Which was exactly what she'd have done to Elliot if Ricky hadn't showed up. "There's pretty much no avoiding that. You're lucky he does more than grunt orders at you."

  Elliot's blue eyes centered on her. "Is that how you ended up out here?"

  She shook her head. "Sticky note."

  "That said...what? Come to Shaver Lake alone?"

  She nodded, the urge to smile floating up in her chest. "Come by the office sometime. I'll show it to you."

  "You're limping." His voice was low, his gaze flicking toward her leg. "Your leg okay?"

  "My leg?" She froze, the lightheartedness falling to the dirty ground. Her hand was on the muscle of her right thigh, mid-massage, the pain registering in a zap that traveled upward. She dropped her hand.

  "You've been favoring it."

  Was it that noticeable? If the Colonel took note...

  He'd pull her from the action—what little there was—stick her behind a desk permanently. Then one day she'd wake up and look in the mirror and be... Lucinda. A woman following a family around and never living her own life. "Favoring it? I hadn't noticed."

  Elliot crossed his arms over his chest, the file he'd come with still in his right hand. "Did you follow through with physical therapy?"

  A lick of something hot ran through her. The sartorius muscle had been nearly severed as it crossed her upper thigh. A piece of shrapnel had nicked her femoral artery as well, but a tourniquet—a warehouse ceiling beam—had saved her leg.

  The science was what she focused on when that scene flared up in her mind. When the piece of lumber repeated its fall in a hot burst of flames in her nightmares. When the faces morphed and those no longer living rose up with accusatory stares.

  Failure.

  The doctors who'd repaired the damaged muscles had told her she'd never walk normally again. Those words had been all Sam had needed to prove them wrong. She did more than walk. She ran. Miles. Sometimes it hurt like no other. Sometimes it was fine.

  Today wasn't one of those days.

  Did she follow through with therapy? She started up the path. "If the way I walk bothers you, stop watching."
<
br />   He followed and Sam could feel the heat of his gaze. "It's something to be used against you."

  Apparently that was the theme of the day. She stopped. Turned toward him. "By you? Maybe report it back to the Colonel?"

  A grimace covered his face. "No." He shifted. "We've obviously gotten off track."

  "No kidding."

  He rubbed a palm against the side of his clean-shaven face. "I didn't mention it to be rude or get your back up, but because it's something I'd want to know about anyone I'm working with. Easier to counteract any issues. That's how these co-op things work. Mutual trust."

  Meaning he didn't plan to go anywhere. She shook her head. "That would imply that you had any trust for me. Which you don't. I'd say your issue is a bigger handicap." The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Before she could snatch them back and temper them with something that sounded a little more professional and a lot less snappy teenager. She took a breath. "I hereby relieve you of any guilt placed on your shoulders by the Colonel."

  "Sam."

  The way he said her name, soft and sure, had her pausing. As if he could understand everything about her in two seconds flat. It loosened every coiled muscle in her body.

  She knew better than to trust it. All of this was all an illusion borne of the Colonel's underhanded attempt to fix this day to suit his needs.

  Whatever they were.

  That was the only reason Elliot was here. The only reason they had this case. It explained the slight annoyance. The way he'd arrived not long after she'd gotten here. He didn't want to be here. Didn't want to be around her, but if he had to be, he wanted to know everything there was to know. Every issue. Every possible area in which she could mess up something very simple.

  And none of this was his fault. "I know he gave you some sob story about my mother's death. How I was the one to find her. How my sister always blamed me for not watching her like I was supposed to that day. Because we'd traded shifts." Or because Haley had bailed in favor of hanging out with friends she'd only met that summer. And Sam had hated the thought of their mother alone in her room. Dying a slow death. "How every year he comes up with something meant to distract me because he has some weird notion I'll fall apart if anyone happens to mention her."