Dark Defender Page 6

  Would she have found comfort in his touch if she knew the truth about him? No rational woman would. Even if she could accept that he was hardwired to fight and kill Others, he was rapidly losing his humanity. The last time he’d been badly wounded, his Handler had bought extra strong chains just for him. That hadn’t kept him from trying to break free from that cold steel table, screaming for hours and shredding the skin around his wrists and ankles until they bled.

  He could remember the pain in Devlin’s voice as he offered to end Trahern’s life permanently to stop his misery. He’d been so tempted to accept, but that would have been the coward’s way out. When his time came to be put down, he wanted it to count for something—not because he was afraid to face another day as a Paladin.

  A woman like Brenna Nichols deserved a gentler man to comfort her, one who knew all the right words to brush away her nightmares. But selfish as it might be, that wasn’t going to stop him. When he gathered her into his side, she came willingly, snuggling in to rest her face on his chest with his arm wrapped around her.

  It felt like heaven, even if the predictable effect on his body was a living hell. How many times over the years had he dreamed of this exact moment, holding her in his arms with her warmth and scent filling his senses?

  Of course, in his dreams they were both naked and sated after a night of wild monkey sex—but this version would do.

  “Quit pounding so loud, damn it. I can’t concentrate.”

  Swan glared at him and went right back to whacking his fist on the wall every few inches.

  “I said stop it!” Montgomery had his own investigating to do and listening to that racket wasn’t going to help.

  “How am I supposed find a hidden safe if I don’t check out the walls?”

  “A hidden safe is going to be behind a picture on the wall or under a rug on a hardwood floor, not under sheet rock where the only way the judge could access it is with a crowbar.”

  Swan wasn’t stupid, just too young on the job. “Okay, so I’ll start looking behind things. How about all those books in his office?”

  “Perfect. Take a few out at time and look behind them. Let me know if you see anything suspicious.” When his partner left, he continued his methodical search of the living room. The office was the obvious place for the judge to have hidden files, but his detective’s nose told him the judge wouldn’t go for the obvious.

  So as his friend checked behind the heavy law books in the next room, Montgomery slowly made his way around the living room. Running his fingertips over every surface, he checked each table, every picture, and every cushion for anything taped to the bottom or hidden between the cushions. It took him the better part of half an hour to do just that one room.

  He was about to start in the hallway and then go on to the kitchen when his cell phone rang. Technically he and Swan were still on duty, so he couldn’t ignore it. Pulling out his phone, he checked the number. It was his boss, all right, but not the one he’d been expecting. Damn. He’d told the man they knew as Mr. Knight that he’d call when they had news. Remembering the chill in the man’s eyes, a shiver curled up his spine. It wouldn’t be wise to ignore the call.

  “Montgomery here.”

  “Well?” The arrogant bastard conveyed a wealth of disdain in just that one word.

  “We got here less than an hour ago. There was a double homicide we were called in on until…” Mr. Knight didn’t want excuses, only results. “We’re looking now. I’ve checked the living room. Swan’s in the old man’s office.”

  “You won’t find anything there.”

  “That’s why I left that room for Swan.” His partner had strong suits, but subtlety wasn’t one of them. If he wanted to hide something, he’d probably put it in an envelope and write “do not open” on the front.

  “Wise thinking, Detective Montgomery.”

  He didn’t give a damn what Mr. Knight thought about him. The only thing that mattered was that the man paid well for results.

  “I’ll be out of touch for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Leave any messages on my voice mail, but I won’t be able to get back to you until tomorrow night or the next morning.” The phone went dead.

  Montgomery stared at his cell as he muttered every curse word he could think of. A few bucks for some inside information on their investigation hadn’t seemed like such a big deal, at first. They should have known that if it seemed like easy money, it would turn around and bite them on the ass.

  He just hoped their asses were still alive when the dust settled. Maybe he’d pack a suitcase when he got home. Just in case.

  Trahern had never had much use for cell phones, and the tinny music chirping away before the sun was up was enough to make him homicidal. He eased his arm out from around Brenna, hoping to silence the damn thing before it woke her up.

  Snatching up the phone from the bedside table, he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door. “This better be important,” he growled into the receiver.

  “Shut up, Trahern. I’ve already been up for hours and don’t want to hear any complaints from you.” There was a lot of static on the line, but Jarvis’s bad mood came through clearly.

  Rather than getting into a pissing contest over which of them was in a worse mood, Trahern started over. “What do you need, Jarvis?”

  “I’m going active down near the boot heel. Seismology has been picking up reports of swarms of weak, shallow earthquakes. They’re calling all the locals in. Sounds like we’ll be dancing with the darkness tonight.”

  “How bad is it?” He knew from his days along the barrier in that area that minor earthquakes were common. The Paladins who stood guard along the New Madrid Fault saw more active duty than some of those assigned to better-known fault lines. But when the earthquakes came in swarms, there just weren’t enough Paladins and guards combined to protect the whole area. If he didn’t have responsibility for Brenna’s welfare, he would have offered his sword. He was no longer as finely tuned to the local barrier, but could still feel it well enough to know it was under attack.

  “Don’t know yet. The Regents say reinforcements will be sent in from out of state if needed, but they’ve made that promise before. Hopefully, I’ll be back in St. Louis within a couple of days. Until then, you’re on your own.”

  No surprise in that. “Fine. Call when you get back. And Jarvis?”

  “Yeah?”

  He wanted to wish his friend luck in battle, but couldn’t find the words. “Uh, never mind. Look, I’ll talk to you when you get back.”

  Jarvis understood him, anyway. “You watch yourself, too, Trahern. Gotta go.” The line went dead.

  He and Jarvis had lived hard, fighting and drinking with equal abandon. But they had also done a lot they could be proud of, too. The average human might not be aware of the battle that raged along the fault lines and near the volcanoes to keep the Others from pouring across and into this world, but the Paladins didn’t fight for glory. They fought because someone had to, and they were the best at it.

  “Who was that?”

  Brenna stood outside the bathroom door, looking rumpled and warm and too damn sexy.

  “Jarvis.”

  “What did he want at this ungodly hour?” She was rubbing the stitches in her arm, which probably meant it was healing.

  “Stop picking at your arm. You’ll get it all inflamed.”

  “Quit trying to avoid the question. What did Jarvis want? Is something wrong?” She was more awake now and the fear was back in her eyes.

  “No, nothing is wrong. He got called out of town on business for a couple of days and wanted to let me know.”

  “What kind of work does he do?”

  “Same kind I do.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “I told you yesterday that I’d only let things slide until we both got some rest. Sleepy time is over, buster, so start talking or I’m out of here.”

  Trahern snorted. “And where would you go, and how would you get there? You’v
e got no money, no purse, and you didn’t seem overly impressed by those two detectives you spoke to.”

  She threw back her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height, almost a foot less than his. It was cute.

  “I’m a big girl, Blake Trahern. I can and will take care of myself. I’ve been doing so for years.”

  She turned away, leaving him staring after her. He hadn’t meant to rile her, but he wasn’t free to tell her what he and Jarvis did for a living. It was unlikely she’d believe him, anyway.

  The reality of the Others had been hard enough for him to accept, right up until they came at him with their wide-bladed swords and throwing knives. That kind of action made a believer out of a man pretty damn quick.

  Brenna had turned on the television, no doubt looking for news about her father’s death. He joined her sitting on the end of the bed, just as the judge’s picture flashed across the screen with a voice-over promise that it was the next story after they broke for a commercial. Brenna hunched her shoulders as if her father’s image caused her a great deal of pain. She had accepted Blake’s comfort in her sleep. Would she do the same now that she was wide-awake?

  He eased closer to her, offering his unspoken support. She didn’t move in his direction, but neither did she shift away—maybe because all her attention was focused on the television. The two reporters launched right into the sordid details as soon as they were back on camera. The first day or so, all they had talked about were the judge’s sterling character, his distinguished career, and how much he would be missed.

  But now, there was a different feel to their report. The first words out of the woman’s mouth had Blake on his feet, ready to punch his fist through the TV screen.

  “…an unnamed source at the police department has indicated that they are investigating allegations that Judge Nichols’s recent death may have been due to his suspected involvement in some questionable financial activities. Examination of his personal bank records have revealed sums of money that exceed the normal salary of a judge.”

  “Liars! I’ll sue them for every dime they’ve ever had!” Brenna’s eyes shot sparks. “Wait until I get my hands on them—they do NOT know who they are messing with.”

  “Brenna, can you tone it down? There’s more.” Her picture appeared on the screen behind the two reporters.

  “Ms. Nichols, also injured by the car bomb, has mysteriously disappeared from the hospital where she had an armed guard. However, both the police and a spokesperson for the hospital have denied knowledge of any such guards. Furthermore, a nurse was wounded when an unknown gunman shot through the window of Ms. Nichols’s room. In the resulting confusion, Ms. Nichols disappeared, apparently in the company of an unidentified male companion. It is not known at this time whether she went willingly or was taken by force.”

  With a look of feigned concern, the reporter leaned slightly forward and spoke directly to the camera as a phone number appeared at the bottom of the screen. “Anyone who has knowledge of Ms. Nichols’s current whereabouts should call the police at the number below.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Could it get any worse?

  Blake turned to Brenna only to find her flipping through the phone book on the desk, muttering under her breath. When she picked up the receiver and started dialing, he pushed down the button to disconnect the call. She tried to bat his hand out of the way.

  “Stop it, Blake. I need to set those people straight.”

  He didn’t budge. “Yelling at them over the phone is only going to make things worse. If you stop and think, you’ll know I’m right.”

  She was gripping the phone so hard her knuckles were white. “They’re spreading lies about my father. Isn’t it bad enough he was murdered, without killing his reputation, too? Being a judge was his life’s work. He would not have jeopardized that for any amount of money.”

  As a rule, the Regents didn’t involve themselves in matters outside their mission to prevent the world from being overtaken by the Others. But if they felt their secrecy was threatened, they could and would take decisive action. If Brenna began screaming loud and long that her father was being framed, she would be vulnerable to attack from the Regents, as well as the rogue members who were likely behind the car bomb that had killed her father.

  Trahern had enough on his plate, tracking down the corruption within the Regents, without having to ride herd on Brenna at the same time. Damn it all, he was going to have to break his vow of silence and tell her the truth—about the Regents, about her father, and worse yet, about himself.

  It was a total cluster fuck.

  Chapter 4

  T rahern’s eyes took on a decided chill. “Look, I need to shower. When we’re both dressed, we’ll check out and then get breakfast and talk.”

  She should have expected him to duck out of answering her questions. “What excuse are you going to use next, Blake? When the weather cools off, we’ll talk? Or when the sun comes up in the west?”

  “Damn it, Brenna, give it break.”

  They stood in awkward silence until, unable to stand his hard gaze any longer, she turned away to face the bed—the one with the covers and pillows messed up on both sides, not just the one where she’d slept.

  “You slept with me? Without asking me if it was okay?” Brenna didn’t know whether to be outraged or disappointed that she didn’t remember how it felt to have that hard body of his stretched out beside her.

  “You woke me up whimpering in your sleep. The only way I could quiet you so I could get some sleep was to cuddle you.”

  He said “cuddle” as if the very idea was repugnant. Was touching her so awful? He certainly hadn’t seemed to think so yesterday when he kissed her at the hospital.

  Before she could respond, he marched into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

  The shower ran for a solid twenty minutes. Blake’s duffel was sitting on the desk across the room; how long before he came out for his clean clothes and shaving kit? Long enough for her to rifle through it, she decided, though she didn’t know what she was looking for. Answers, sure, but he wouldn’t have left anything lying around that would be of much help—he was too smart and too secretive for that.

  Rather than risk his ire, she’d keep her hands to herself. Maybe she was being naïve, but she had to trust someone. The police certainly hadn’t endeared themselves to her, with their prying questions and the false reports they had leaked to the press about her father.

  She picked up the duffel and set it outside the bathroom, then rapped on the door. “Blake, here’s your bag. I thought you might want it.”

  He mumbled something that may or may not have been “thanks.” She backed away, figuring he wouldn’t open the door as long as she was standing there. Did he think she was trying to get a quick peek of him, naked and still damp from his shower? Whoa, she did NOT need that image in her head. Just that quickly, her breasts felt heavy and her nipples stirred and hardened, aching for a man’s touch—Blake’s touch. How would that stern mouth of his feel, nuzzling or suckling them? Her hand strayed toward the knob on the bathroom door and she jerked it back.

  It was bad enough that every time she stared into those silver gray eyes of his, her entire body sat up and took notice. Giving into a bad case of lust was the last thing she needed right now. She’d had such an awful crush on him the whole time he’d lived with them, except when she was hating him for putting up with all those girls who hung on his every word in high school. She had known that they had been attracted to his air of danger even then. Hadn’t it bothered him to know that while they were willing to sneak out to be with him, none of them wanted him knocking on their front door?

  No doubt it had been one of them who had introduced him to that little roadside park. Not that she was jealous. Well, maybe a little bit, but hot sex on a picnic table was not exactly one of her fantasies.

  The click of the bathroom lock snapped her back to the present as he stepped out surrounded by a cloud of steam. Blake’s wh
ite T-shirt clung to his torso, clearly outlining every one of his lean muscles. His jeans looked as if they’d been bought for comfort rather than style. The soft, faded denim suited him, and the small hole at the knee made him look more approachable.

  But it was his bare feet that made her annoyingly aware of him as a man. There was just something about a man walking around barefoot that she’d always found sexy.

  He reached for his socks and shoes. “Let’s settle up our bill and get out of here. The less time we spend in one place, the better. I also need to change cars, because rentals are too easy to trace.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She reached for the bags with her hospital gown and the few things he’d bought for her. “And then we’ll talk.”

  He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. “Yes, we’ll talk.”

  They each did a last sweep through the room to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. When she started to open the door, he held it shut with his hand. “But there’s something you need to think about, Brenna.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Before you starting asking questions, make sure you really want to hear the answers.” Then he walked out.

  The lights flickered for the third time in as many minutes. Jarvis shivered, the chill in the air not entirely due to the depth of the cavern. The night had been a long one and it wasn’t over yet. For the moment the barrier was at full strength, but it wasn’t likely to stay that way.

  At least they’d had enough time to clear away their wounded and dead. Rumor had it that hot food was on the way, but that was probably wishful thinking. Right now, he’d settle for some of those MREs that the military used for field rations, or even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Water would be good; hot coffee even better.

  “Sir, the last of the dead have been transferred to headquarters for treatment.” The guard looked unbelievably earnest and young, until you looked into his eyes. He’d seen enough action over the past two days to ensure his eyes would never look young again.