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She had just been granted a Fulbright Scholarship, and she was heading for a conference that just happened to be in the country where she was going to do her year-long research—Australia. She would be studying the Aboriginal concepts of Songlines and Dreaming. The concept of Dreaming, The Dreaming, or Dreamtime was quite complicated and differentiated between different Aboriginal populations across Australia. It encompassed creation myths, religion, pre-life/life/death, historical events, connection to ancestors and deity, and other important life events. Her focus would be on Aboriginal music. She was over the moon and beyond excited about the whole experience.
Her degrees were myriad—PhD in Cultural Anthropology from Duke University, an MPhil in Ethnomusicology from Columbia University, a Master’s in Ethnomusicology from The University of Hawai’i at Manoa, and a bachelor’s degree in music with flute performance, and history with a concentration in South Central North America. Her research centered on the assimilation of Cajuns into mainstream society and how that homogenization corroded their deep French cultural roots and why Cajun music was so important. It was the life force of the Cajun culture. She’d spent two years singing and playing steel guitar with Cajuns in the heart of Acadia, namely southwestern Louisiana, and her first book,The Acadians on Story and Song, was awarded the Woody Guthrie Prize.
Her fieldwork in Australia, as a US-Australia Fulbright Scholar, would focus on studying languages, writing songs with collaborators in the field, and expanding on an ethnographic songwriting research methodology for an upcoming book,Tribal Culture—From Songlines and Dreaming to Modern Aboriginal Music.
She zipped up her case, quickly checked her reservation at the Trasker Gold Hotel in Sydney, and made sure she had her money, airline reservations, her talk for the conference, and the itinerary.
“We’re going to miss our plane,” her husband yelled up the stairs, his Cajun accent thickening when he was agitated. She’d gotten more out of Acadia than just research. She giggled to herself, then grabbing her suitcase, she rushed out the door.
* * *
Australian Federal Police Headquarters,Sydney, Australia
A noise jerked Kaiya out of her sensual fog. With an “Oh, no,” she stepped back. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or throw up.
A slow, easy-going grin eased up the corners of Kodiak’s mouth. “Oh, no, indeed.”
Kaiya wasn’t sure what affected her more, the devastatingly sexy smile on his face or the fact that she had almost kissed him, even while her mind still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t and was mortified that she almost had. What the hell was wrong with her? It should be a cut-and-dried, black-and-white situation, but it didn’t feel that way.
Then she remembered Mickey and she stepped back again. Sighing, she attempted to dismiss her arousing thoughts so she, too, could concentrate on their conversation. “I thought you were going to the range with your mates to shoot.”
Back to business, Kodiak’s expression turned serious and focused once more. “No, I wanted to talk to you about yesterday evening. Clear the air.”
“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. But we could talk about it when I get back.” She was talking too fast, and she couldn’t seem to slow her roll. She looked at her watch and said, “I’ll find you when I get back.”
“Get back?”
“I have a…personal situation I need to deal with. Hang here and you can review my notes on Paris and Bolivia.”
A frown pulled at his dark brows. “What personal situation?”
“It’s personal,” she said in a firm, precise tone that brooked no argument. There was no way she could have a conversation with Mickey with Kodiak present. It had been her intention to introduce them, but in a non-threatening environment. Springing the big SEAL on Mickey in his spooked condition would make things even worse and she wouldn’t get anything out of him. Her senses were humming, and she wanted to follow up on her own. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was being an arsehole and protecting her source and territory or not. This personal situation between them was getting in the way. For the second time, she thought about bowing out and dealing with Tessa’s ire. With a stabbing sense of guilt to her mind, she knew she couldn’t abandon her own citizens…and she couldn’t abandon his.
His gaze narrowed. “All right. I’ll be here waiting for you,” he said.
Her relief was so profound that her entire body went weak. But she didn’t have time to savor it. She turned and rushed to her car. If she was late, Mickey would be gone, and she would have to track him down.
She drove down to Jackson’s and parked across the street. Getting out of her vehicle, she looked around for Mickey, but he wasn’t visible. She waited for about ten minutes, then saw him emerge from an alley not too far from the junkyard. She lifted her hand to wave, but before she could complete the process, he froze, then took a step back, staring at something behind her.
She threw a quick look over her shoulder and saw Kodiak, dismounting from the motorcycle she’d provided for him. Her stomach sank hard.
He’d followed her? A little faith, she thought, just a little. That’s all she wanted. Just an hour to bring Mickey in the easy way. She wasn’t a fool. She would have introduced them back at headquarters, given him a chance to participate in the interrogation. Mickey might not have jack shit, but this whole incident might be part of something larger. She wasn’t going to underestimate or dismiss anything. And as much as she didn’t want to, she understood Kodiak’s position.
Bugger.
She turned back around and took a step forward, but Mickey’s face had paled, his gaze darted to his surroundings, then he turned and ran.
She pivoted and flung out her arm. “Go that way! Cut him off!”
Then without a word, she surged after Mickey.
* * *
Kodiak felt an adrenaline rush.His gut had told him that Kaiya was hiding something and now he had proof of it. If she had given him a chance to talk back at the station, she would know that he wanted them to work together, now this. He didn’t want to have trust issues, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.
He ran hard, his gaze flickering down the alleys.
In the bright light of day, Kodiak bolted through the streets, leaping piles of garbage and ducking around food vendors. Two blocks down, he stopped short, his gaze scanning his surroundings. He made a sharp left between two buildings. At the end of the alley, he flattened to the wall and listened for footsteps. About a minute passed before he heard them, and as they came close to his position, he stuck his arm out and clothes-lined their quarry.
