Dark Defender (9 page)

Blake smiled. “She scared me to death. In all my years of fighting with blades, I’ve never seen her equal with a knife.”

She knew he was exaggerating, but the affection in his voice was real. “Yeah, I remember the first time you hugged her. I thought we were going to need an ambulance for her.”

“Yeah, well, I only did it for the cookies.”

Right. Maisy had stuffed him with sweets from the first night, and seeing Trahern actually reach out to someone had surprised them all. His gesture had been a major turning point. She wondered if
he
knew that.

“We’d better start on another room before we run out of time.” He walked out, leaving her to follow.

Blake’s cell phone vibrated for the third time in less than fifteen minutes. He sighed and pulled it out of his pocket, expecting it to be Jarvis, but the number had a Seattle area code.

“Bane, this better be good. I told you I’d check in when I had something worth reporting.”

The woman’s voice on the other end of the line sounded amused. “If you can’t tell the difference between me and Devlin, Trahern, I’d better have the Handlers there ship you back home.”

“What’s the matter, Doc, don’t you have enough bone-headed Paladins there to keep you busy?” He did
not
need a mother hen checking on him. Not with Brenna listening to every word, despite pretending that she was engrossed in feeling up the couch cushions.

Laurel just laughed at him. She’d been way too happy since she and Devlin Bane had hooked up. It was enough to make a grown man sick—and a little jealous.

“If Devlin can’t keep you busy, why don’t you go play with your pet Other? Or has someone shown the good sense to kill him?”

He knew she wouldn’t appreciate that little comment, but too bad. He was born and bred to hate Others. It galled the Seattle Paladins that she’d taken one in, like a mongrel dog that was more likely to bite her than appreciate the gesture. All because the shifty bastard had saved her life.

“Leave Barak out of this. You know you’re supposed to check in with me regularly, Blake Trahern. I haven’t heard from you in almost two days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“That’s no excuse. The only reason the Handlers in St. Louis aren’t haunting your footsteps is that I promised them you’d keep in touch with me.”

All traces of good humor were gone from her voice, reminding him that she was fully capable of handling the worst of the Paladins, including him.

“Fine. I’ll call in.”

The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. Finally, she sighed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Blake…” The warning was clear.

Not for the first time, he cursed the existence of cell phones. “The barrier near here has been going up and down like a damned yo-yo, so how do you think I feel? I’m not as attuned to it as I used to be, but I can still feel enough to make me edgier than normal. Considering I haven’t had more than one full night of sleep in almost a week, I’m doing all right. At least I haven’t killed anybody.” Honesty made him add, “Though I’ve come close a couple of times.” They both knew his ability to control his temper was crucial to his continued existence.

“I’m glad to hear you’re hanging in there, Blake.” She must have been satisfied because she changed the topic. “How is your friend’s daughter doing?”

Blake caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. “Look, Doc, I’ve gotta go. I’ll check in tomorrow.” He disconnected the call before Laurel could do more than sputter.

“Was that one of your Paladin friends?”

“No.”

Brenna gave him a disgusted look. “You want me to trust you, but you make it hard when I can’t get an answer to a simple question.”

“When I did answer your questions, you didn’t believe me.” Turning away, he made a pretense of checking out the judge’s rack of CDs. He was being a jerk, but he didn’t want to explain his relationship with Laurel Young. How safe would Brenna feel if she found out that his doctor was afraid for him to be out on his own because of the very real risk that he’d cross the line into murderous insanity?

“I thought you’d like to know that I finished going through the dining room. Do you want to do your old room while I check out mine?”

“Fine. We should leave in half an hour or so.” He probably owed Brenna an apology, but she was already gone. Maybe it was for the best. Laurel’s call had reminded him of all the reasons he should keep Brenna at arm’s length. That kiss in the car had been a monumental mistake—one he’d give almost anything to make again.

B
lake headed for his old bedroom on the floor below. There wasn’t much that he felt sentimental about, but this room was the first real haven he’d ever known. His early years had taught him not to get attached to anything that anyone bigger, meaner, or stronger could take away.

A wave of familiarity washed over him as he entered the room. Nothing had changed. When he’d left for Seattle twelve years ago, he’d packed only his clothes and a few books. His remaining possessions were exactly where he’d left them.

When he’d completed his training as a Paladin, he had been given his choice of places to be assigned. Seattle had topped his list for two reasons. First was the city’s proximity to both major fault lines and volcanoes, which promised a lot of action. At the time, the adventure had appealed to him.

More important, Seattle was as far as he could get from Brenna. He’d been eighteen, a mere four years older than her. But the difference in their levels of experience was a vast chasm.

At fourteen, she had been sweet, gentle, and incredibly brilliant. Her big green eyes had looked out at the world with equal curiosity and innocence. And all too often, those same eyes followed his every move.

Blake had already seen more ugliness than most people experienced in a lifetime. He had walked away from the Nichols’ house not because he didn’t care if he hurt them, but because he cared too much.

And now here he was, right back where he’d started.

A few well-chosen curse words relieved the urge to punch the wall. When he started searching, the first thing he noticed was that the bedspread was on crooked. It could be another case of the cleaning service not doing its job properly, but he didn’t think so. Despite the unused air of the room, someone had felt the need to search it.

Whoever it had been, they must have been getting desperate if they had wasted their time looking through his old high school yearbooks. On the other hand, if they had wondered what his relationship was to Brenna, now they knew. It didn’t really matter, though. Dr. Vega and his staff all knew his name; they would have given it to the police once Brenna disappeared from the hospital.

He slid his hands under the edge of the mattress and lifted. Nothing. The same went for the dresser drawers and the nightstand, which left only the closet. As soon as he opened the door, a flash of memory made him grin. He’d had one hiding spot that even the most determined of snoops would have been unlikely to find.

He yanked the spare blanket and pillow off the shelf and then tossed the few items of clothing on the bed. Next he lifted out the shelf and the hanger rod, allowing him to pry away the board that acted as their support. He’d installed hinges on the board so that it would open easily, revealing the small hidden space he’d built into the wall.

He used to keep his ready cash and a box of condoms in there to prevent Maisy from finding them when she cleaned his room. He’d never told anyone about his handiwork, but the judge must have discovered it because there was a large envelope rolled up and tucked inside the hole.

He dragged a lamp into the cramped space to get a better look: there was always the chance that whoever had searched the room had left him an unpleasant little surprise. He studied the envelope without touching it, but couldn’t quite make out the writing. No guts, no glory. He yanked the envelope out and let it drop to the floor. When nothing exploded or started ticking, he picked it up.

It was addressed to “Blake Trahern” in a familiar scrawl. He started to rip it open, but changed his mind. If this was the judge’s last message, then Brenna deserved to be with him when he read it. Maybe her father’s own words would help convince her that Blake had been telling her the truth and she was in grave danger.

He quickly returned everything to the closet in case the previous searchers took another run at the house. When the room was back to the way he’d found it, he went looking for Brenna. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge. Once they were settled in a new hotel room, they could learn what the judge had uncovered that had cost him his life. Knowing he’d been the one to get his friend involved made Blake sick.

He took the steps upstairs two at a time, the need to be gone riding him hard. He found her standing outside her father’s room, tears streaming down her face.

“Brenna?” He’d been wondering when the reality of her father’s death would finally hit her.

She didn’t respond immediately, but finally she turned toward him. “I feel as if I should knock first. How stupid is that?”

She placed her hand on the doorknob. “One of us needs to search his room. I guess that would be me.” When the door swung open, she gasped, “Dear God, what happened?”

Blake pushed past her into the room. It looked as if a tornado had unleashed its full fury. Books were torn and scattered across the floor. The mattress was half off the bed and the dresser drawers had been upended. Whoever had searched this room had done so in a fit of rage.

Brenna rounded on him, the tears replaced with indignation and determination. “I want to hurt whoever did this, Blake!” She balled her hands up in fists. “I want to hurt them bad!”

So did he. He would hunt the bastards down and kill them with his bare hands—but not before they suffered for ripping Brenna’s life apart. Judge Nichols had known all along that either of his careers could bring someone’s fury down on his head. But Brenna had made no such choice, and for that the bastards would die.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Brenna, I don’t know if it’s any comfort or not, but they didn’t find what they were looking for.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because we were right. He left the files in a place where one of us could find them.” He held out the envelope, giving her a chance to recognize her father’s handwriting.

If anything, she looked even more depressed as she traced Blake’s name with a finger. “You mean he left it where
you
could find it. Not me.”

Damn, he hadn’t thought of it that way. “That only means he’d ferreted out my secret hiding place.”

“He addressed it to you, Blake.” Her eyes were sadder than anything he’d ever seen.

Damn it, he’d probably considered the material classified, not for the eyes of anyone outside of the Regents. Even from the grave he was shutting his daughter out.

The only way Blake could ease Brenna’s pain was to get her out of this house, where she was surrounded with memories. “We need to go. Get your things.”

He took her arm and muscled her out of the room. Maybe the shock would put some spark back into her.

Glaring up at him, she snapped, “I don’t take orders from anyone very well, least of all from you.”

“Too bad. We’ve been here too long already.” The condition of the judge’s room seriously bothered him. If this madman were to return right now, there’s no telling what he’d do. Blake could survive almost any kind of attack, but Brenna was far more vulnerable. Picking her up, he tossed her over his shoulder.

“Blake Trahern! Put me down right now!”

He ignored her fists pounding on his back. A single suitcase was sitting outside her bedroom door. “Is this all you’re taking?”

“Figure it out for yourself, you big jerk!”

It took him a bit of juggling to hold onto the envelope and snag the suitcase before heading down the stairs. She’d given up fighting him, but he knew that there’d be hell to pay the minute he set her free. A motion outside the front window caught his eye.

“Bloody hell!” He set her down. “Brenna, we’ve got company. Take your suitcase and this,” he said, shoving the envelope at her. “Do you still have the car keys?”

She nodded as she saw the car pulling up out front. “Those are the two detectives who interviewed me in the hospital.”

“They’re probably the ones who trashed your father’s room. Go out through the kitchen and don’t look back. I’ll make sure you get clear and then follow if I can.”

“But—”

“Go
Brenna!” He tossed her his cell phone. “If I don’t catch up with you five minutes after you reach the car, or if you hear gunfire, get the hell out of the area. When you’re sure you weren’t followed, call Devlin Bane in Seattle and tell him what happened. He’s listed in my numbers. You can trust him.”

She was smart enough to look scared and was already moving toward the door. “Don’t make a target of yourself for me, Blake. If anyone is going to rough you up it’s going to be me for hauling me around like a sack of potatoes.”

“I’ll look forward to it, babe.” He grinned and kissed her hard and fast before she could sputter a protest. Then he turned her toward the door. “Now get out while there’s still time!”

She looked back right before she stepped out of the door. “Keep safe, Blake.”

He waited in the kitchen doorway, where he could keep an eye on both the front porch and the backyard. Brenna had taken his orders to heart and was crossing the yard at a full-out run. He’d give her another forty-five seconds to get completely clear before following her, knowing it was going to be close. The detectives were already out of their car and walking up to the porch.

A glance out back told him that Brenna was struggling with the gate. “Come on, honey, you can do it. It’s just nerves making you clumsy.”

It took her two more tries to get it open, but he’d buy her all the time she needed to get away, even if it meant using up another one of his lives. At the sound of a key in the front lock, he drew his gun.

“Damn it, Trahern, answer your phone.” Jarvis paced his office forward and back for the fifth time in as many minutes.

An automated voice came on the line telling him that the party he wished to reach was currently unavailable. Disconnecting, he kicked his wastebasket, scattering wadded-up papers across the floor as it bashed into the wall. The small act of violence pleased him, although he’d have to pay for a new wastebasket. The Regents were usually generous in providing Paladins with all they needed, but repeated wastebasket abuse was frowned upon.

He was due back in the tunnels in two hours. The chance of getting good cell phone reception near the barrier was almost zero. He slipped his hand into his front pants pocket and fingered the blue stone, liking the smooth feel of it but hating the puzzle it represented. An internet search had turned up nothing similar in color or characteristics, confirming his suspicion that it had come across the barrier. The only question was why, and his gut feeling was that Trahern knew the answer.

No one had mentioned specifics, but something had happened in Seattle recently that had the Regents upset. The absence of facts didn’t keep anyone who’d caught wind of the rumors from speculating long and loud about what had happened. Hell, somebody had even hinted that the Seattle Paladins had adopted one of the Others as a pet.

He had laughed when he’d heard that one. When it came to their enemies from the dark side, Blake Trahern was a cold-blooded killer. He’d be the last one to leave an Other walking around in one piece. That had to be one of those urban myths that developed a life of its own.

Maybe he should try Trahern’s number again. As he brought up his list of contacts, someone knocked on his door. Slipping the phone back in his pocket, he called, “Come in.”

A familiar but unwelcome man appeared in the doorway. What was Ritter doing hanging around the Paladin command post? The man was a Regent and normally kept to their fancy office building in St. Louis. Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t be good. Jarvis didn’t stand up; no point in making the man feel welcome.

Leaning back in his chair, Jarvis steepled his fingers and stared at his guest. “Mr. Ritter, what brings you this way?”

Ritter sat down. “I heard the fighting had been particularly bad and wanted to check on the men. Judge Nichols used to keep abreast of the Paladins on a day-to-day basis. His death has left an immense hole in the organization.” The man shrugged slightly as if to show his distress at his fellow Regent’s untimely death. “I thought it wise to pick up the slack.”

The last thing they wanted right now was a Regent snooping around. “I’d be glad to e-mail you a copy of my daily personnel report, sir.” Anything to keep him out of their way.

“That would fine, Jarvis, and I appreciate the thought. However, until someone is appointed to assume Judge Nichols’s duties, I feel a strong Regent presence is needed to remind the Paladins that all is well with the organization. We don’t want you to feel that no one is concerned with your welfare.”

His smile raised Jarvis’s hackles. The man had all the sincerity of a jackal. With Trahern on some kind of vengeance quest, Others dropping mysterious blue stones in the tunnels, and minor earthquakes coming in swarms, a nosy Regent was the last thing Jarvis needed.

“Do you know when the new Regent will be taking office?” he asked.

Ritter picked a small piece of lint off the cuff of his suit jacket before answering. “The Board of Regents is hard at work on that very issue, but the progress is slow. Many of my fellow Regents were badly shaken up by the attack on Judge Nichols, wondering if they could be next. Until we know why he was singled out for assassination, none of us feel particularly safe.”