This speech frightened Lucy as nothing else had. “Jake . . .”
He swung the bag off his shoulder and pulled it up onto hers. “Now you go. I’ve got to clean up. There can be no trace of you here.” He took a handkerchief out from somewhere under his serape and pushed her out the door. Galen grunted and followed. The door shut. She heard the bolts snap into place.
Chapter 5
Wednesday
“Okay, now we can make some time,” Lucy muttered as they cruised onto the Golden Gate. The traffic was backed up at the tollbooths coming south into the city, not heading north to Marin County. Car lights made a broad white ribbon snaking away onto the bridge itself. She glanced over to the half-naked man in the passenger’s seat of Jake’s Chevy. As she accelerated, he gripped the center armrest with his good left hand. His lips thinned into a grim line.
“Drive this cart more slowly,” he commanded.
Any slower and she’d probably get arrested. But any faster and Galen would probably lose Jake’s omelet. “It’s okay,” she said as she turned her gaze back to the road. Stupid. Like he would understand that. What was “okay” in Latin? “Es good,” she finally said, in what she hoped was whatever language he’d been using. It occurred to her that he didn’t know why fast was a good thing. She kept the car at fifty and eased over to the right-hand lane. She was probably the only person on the bridge actually going the speed limit.
“We must go fast.” Her lack of fluency in Latin was really annoying. And her accent was definitely different from his. He seemed to have trouble understanding her. “Jake—my friend Jake? Jake thinks men will come to . . . take you.” How was that so bad to him? “They would take you to a prison.” Sort of true. They’d hear about Galen from the hospital staff. And they wouldn’t let a treasure like an actual man from the past run around loose on the streets. They might be right about that. This whole thing was really bad. “We must go.” The word for escape escaped her. “Fast. Before they . . . find us.”
He was breathing through his mouth. “You did not send for Brad to fix the metal wheels. How will I go back?”
Tricky, especially in Latin. “Jake thinks Brad will take you to prison.”
“Your lover would imprison me?” He almost relaxed. “I will tell him I do not want you.”
“Gee, thanks.” That cut a little too close to the bone. She’d always known she wasn’t movie star material. But did he have to be so blunt? “He is not my lover.”
Galen shot her a look that might have meant she must think him stupid. “Woman,” he insisted. “We will go to this Brad. I will make him fix the metal wheels.”
The hills rose up around them north of the bridge. The sky had lightened to that pearly quality it got just before sunup. The grass covering the hillsides showed itself vibrant green. Sausalito would appear down to the right at any minute. Why couldn’t Jake have moored his boat there instead of way up at the top of the bay? Probably because the docks at Sausalito had turned into a cozy neighborhood. People lived on house boats that hadn’t moved for thirty, forty years. Not the first choice for a secrecy and paranoid specialist like Jake.
“It is . . . of no matter that you do not want me. Brad has a bad friend. They want you because . . . you are from another year. They will not . . . let you go back.” Was that true? Was she doing the right thing, running away? Then she remembered Colonel Casey’s cold eyes. This time, Jake might be right to be paranoid.
“I will fight them with the sword of Jake.” He stated it simply, as if she would be a fool to think he wouldn’t win such a battle.
“You are not . . . enough strong. They will bring . . . other men. We . . .” What was the word for hide? “We go far. You heal. Then . . . you can fight.” Except they would have guns and he had a sword. She couldn’t let him face off with Colonel Casey, ever.
Running away was difficult for him. She could see his jaw working. In the end, he took in a long breath and let it out. His shoulders sagged a little. “Until I heal. Where do we go?”
“We go to the boat of Jake.”
“I will heal. Then will I fight whoever comes. Brad will fix the metal wheels, and I will go back to the battle.” He nodded to himself and sat back in the seat. Apparently he felt better now that he had a plan. It made him feel in charge of his fate. Like anybody was in charge of that.
She’d love to have a plan besides just hiding out. While Galen healed, Brad would be working to fix the machine. Maybe Casey could get another diamond. Would Casey care about finding her and Galen if he had the working machine? Jake thought so. If they did escape Casey, Galen would never get back home to his family, to the woman he probably had waiting there, to the battle that seemed so important to him. And Lucy’s life was gone, too. Who was she, without the bookshop, with her only two friends in life, Jake and Brad, lost to her, too?
How foolish was it to decide on an impulse to power up a frigging time machine and visit the past? How had she gotten so obsessed with Leonardo’s book and his machine and the possibility of . . . escape? Was that what she’d really been obsessed with all along? Escape from what? Was her life so bad? Or was it just . . . ordinary?
What matter? It was all gone forever now.
The whole world might be changed if Brad and Casey used the machine. Would she even realize it? Maybe she’d never know the way it should have been. Jeez, but she hated these time-travel conundrums.
The sky was fully light now. She glanced to Galen and saw that the rocking motion and noise of the car had sent him into an exhausted sleep. Gone was the hard warrior. His expression was soft. His long eyelashes brushed his cheeks. He had dark circles under his eyes. He’d pushed himself to exhaustion, wounded as he was. She’d been practically carrying him by the time they got down to Jake’s car. And he was a load.
She wished she could indulge in the luxury of sleep. He might have fought a battle, time-traveled, and had surgery in the last twenty-four hours, but she hadn’t slept in she didn’t know how long. And time travel really took it out of you. Or maybe it was just the constant rush of adrenaline. Not exactly the quiet life of a book lover. To keep awake, she consulted the directions she’d gotten from Jake, scribbled on a pad with a Realtor’s name and picture at the top. The exit was off Highway 37 all the way at the top of the bay. It wasn’t technically even San Francisco Bay up there, but San Pablo Bay once you got past the narrows at Point San Pedro.
They had maybe an hour before they got to the marina. Not far.
But not far to what she didn’t know. What the hell had she gotten into?
Someone was attacking! He hit out with his right hand and felt pain stab through his shoulder as he came fully awake. A sling prevented him from landing the blow.
“Hey, you almost got me, buddy.” The woman jumped back, red blooming in her cheeks. Her eyes were the clearest green he had ever seen. Just now they were snapping in anger. What was she saying? Why couldn’t the woman speak Latin?
“Do not wake a warrior in this way,” he grunted, and pushed down the pain from his shoulder. He sat forward. The cart was stopped, thank Loki. She had been leaning in to wake him through the open door. Behind her, masts dipped and bobbed against a blue sky. Good. They were at the mooring of Jake’s boat. The torture of this Hel-begotten cart was ended. He struggled out, pushing her anxious hands away. The woman was always trying to control him.
But when he stood, the rocking masts wavered and blurred. Before he could protest, she slipped in under his good shoulder and steadied him. “I can walk, woman,” he grunted.
“If you fall, how will I . . . take you to the boat?” She seemed exasperated. She was right. Tiny as she was, she’d never get him up if he passed out.
He realized in that moment how dependent he was on her. He did not speak the language of this cursed place. He knew nothing of the workings of the carts. He had no coins with him. How would he eat without her? Beg on the streets when he did not speak a language any here could understand? The empty feeling in his belly was not from lack of food. He gritted his teeth as she pulled him forward, but he did not push her away. He would have to put up with her for now.