Defeat the Darkness (23 page)

“What's your pleasure?” Penn asked.

Something in his voice made it clear that he was talking about more than her favorite toppings. Hunter's temper instantly flared. Now was not the time to lose control, not with Tate standing there. Not again.

“I know what she likes,” he announced, pinning Penn with a dark look. “I'll call in the order.”

When Barak saw Tate roll her eyes, he offered her a smile. “Shall we go upstairs and leave these two to finish pounding on their chests?”

She giggled. “Let's. I know the pizza number by heart. The food should get here by the time they're done beating each other bloody.”

She swept past Penn and Hunter, patting each of them on the cheek as she passed. Barak smirked as he
followed her up the stairs. When Hunter realized Penn's eyes were focused on the tight fit of Tate's jeans, he elbowed the Paladin.

“Knock it off,” he growled.

“Oops, sorry.” Penn's grin was unapologetic. “I take it you've got dibs on her.”

“What I have on her is none of your business.” God, could he have worded that any worse?

Penn laughed and started up the stairs, allowing Hunter to follow at his own speed. The brief delay in hashing out their plans for dinner had given him time to rest his leg. He still wasn't going to win any races, but at least he'd been spared the embarrassment of asking for help.

He could hear Tate's soft voice mixed in with the deeper male ones. What did she think of Barak? Did his unusual coloring mean anything to her? Not that he was worried about any uncomfortable questions she might ask the Kalith warrior or Penn. Like all Paladins, Penn was a practiced liar when it came to what he did for a living or where he disappeared to when duty called. Barak had secrets of his own to protect, and Hunter was sure the man had a plausible cover story.

She hadn't asked Hunter himself much about his own past, maybe because she knew he was recovering from an injury. He dreaded the day she did start asking questions, though; he'd really hate lying to her.

But the bottom line was that he'd do it anyway.

T
ate noticed that Hunter had become a night owl, their paths rarely having crossed over the past week. His friends came and went, sometimes stopping in her shop to say hello, sometimes not. Barak, especially, seemed intent on trying every tea she offered, but Hunter rarely came with him.

It was tempting to pump Hunter's friends for information, but she refrained. She suspected they were as closemouthed in their own way as he was. At least when he was with them, he was friendlier than he had been when he'd first arrived.

Good for him, but she couldn't help but wish that she was the one he'd turned to for companionship—of all kinds. Depending on her mood, she ran the full gamut of emotions about their one bout of hot sex. On a good day, she accepted it for what it was—a fun romp between two consenting adults. On a downswing, she had to wonder if she'd misread his response to the whole episode.

Then there was today, when she wanted to track him down and demand answers to all of her questions. Where had he come from? How had he gotten hurt? What did he do for a living? How long was he going to stay? And, finally, how dare he ignore her after everything they'd been through, in bed and out?

It didn't help that her mother had finally called. Evidently Sandra had gone crawling back to Edwin. If she was telling the truth, they were working hard to fix what was broken in their relationship. According to Sandra, Edwin was a nice man who wanted a wife. She, on the other hand, wasn't sure she was cut out to stay with one man for the long haul. However, she'd promised Edwin she'd try. What mattered was that they were still together. It was a start.

If Tate wasn't mistaken, her mother had actually sounded happy and hopeful. The big shocker was that Sandra was applying for jobs and hadn't even hinted once that she needed Tate to send money. Even if miracles could happen and Sandra was finally growing up, the call had left Tate unsettled.

If her mother could face her demons, Tate should face hers, even if her particular demon didn't want to talk. Maybe he was afraid she'd read more into that one afternoon than he was ready for, but how was she supposed to know what he was thinking if he wouldn't even talk to her?

For once, none of his buddies were around. Earlier, she'd braced herself for a confrontation and marched over to his apartment to have a talk, only to find him gone. So now she was waiting and watching for him to return.

The hours dragged by as she watched late-night television,
trying to stay awake. Every fifteen minutes she looked out the window to see if the lights had come on in his apartment. So far, they remained depressingly dark.

Thirty more minutes and then she'd turn in. But she'd set her alarm for earlier than normal to give herself time to go pound on his door at the crack of dawn. If he was going to cost her sleep like this, then she would return the favor.

She checked all three of her vantage points. The first one gave her a view of the road. After checking both directions and seeing no sign of Hunter, she moved to look out toward the garage. No lights and no Hunter climbing the steps.

That left the woods out back, not that she could see much past the first few trees. No Hunter. No suspicious shadows. No luck. She plopped back down in her chair and tried to concentrate on the movie. In fifteen more minutes, she'd make the rounds again.

Why was it so important for her to see him tonight? The honest answer was she didn't know. There was just something driving her to make sure he was all right. Sure, she'd like to know if he'd been avoiding her, but it was more than that.

She checked the clock. Only twelve more minutes to go. She hoped he was okay.

Nights perched on the rocky hillside were taking a toll on Hunter's ass, not to mention his leg. He wasn't even supposed to be on duty, but D.J. had called to say they
were running late, and he'd asked Hunter to fill in. An hour later, he'd called again to say they'd been further delayed. Basically,
Hunter should expect them when he saw them.

Because Hunter hadn't planned to be there so long, he hadn't brought all of his usual gear with him. Lately, he'd actually considered bringing down a folding lawn chair but had decided against it. He couldn't guard the place 24/7 and didn't want to risk anyone stumbling across his chosen spot. He supposed he could always take the chair back and forth each night, but that was a pain, too. Besides, it would only increase the risk of Tate getting too curious about what he was up to every night.

She'd gone back to watching him. Even from a distance he could feel the weight of her gaze and all the questions swirling around in that busy brain of hers. Barak had reported back to him that she'd been friendly when he'd stopped in to try another one of her teas, but she hadn't pressed him for information of any kind, much less about Hunter.

They all thought it was a bit weird that she wasn't more suspicious of three Paladins and two Kalith warriors, even if she didn't know them by those descriptions. He still wondered if he'd been mistaken about the odd look she'd given Barak and Larem that first day. He'd been too fractured at the time to trust his own perceptions of the events, but he was certain there had been something surprising about her reaction.

But both Larem and Barak had been around off and on since that day, and she'd treated them both with the same friendly courtesy she did everyone else. Maybe Hunter should drop in for tea tomorrow and see if he could work the conversation around to them.

He rolled his shoulders and slowly stretched his leg before starting back up the bluff. He checked his watch. When D.J. and company finally did show up, they could finish out the night, but he'd had enough. Besides, based on their enemies' previous arrivals, if they were going to come calling, they'd have done so by now. If Penn or one of the Kalith warriors had been there with him, they could've taken turns dozing. He could only do so much alone.

Leaning on his cane, he stood up. On the whole, his leg had continued to improve, but these cool, damp nights near the water didn't help it much. It always took him a few steps before he could trust it would support his weight.

He gathered up his empty cans and sandwich wrappers and stuck them in his pack. He slung it over his shoulder and started up the trail, taking his time to enjoy the night sounds and the distant whisper of the waves washing up on the beach below. His night vision enabled him to walk through the darkness without tripping over rocks and the occasional root jutting up in the path ahead.

It wasn't until after he'd covered half the distance up the hillside that he realized he wasn't alone. Two men were headed directly for him, probably both humans, since they carried flashlights. Their voices drifted toward him, but the distance was too great for him to understand much. One made mention of a flat tire, his voice hot with anger. The other made placating noises but mumbled too much for Hunter to decipher his reply.

If Hunter hid in the trees along the trail, maybe he could learn something that would help Devlin and company track the bastards back to their lair. Moving slowly so as not to draw their attention, he started toward the deeper shadows in a thick cluster of trees.

But as he took a step to his left, a familiar sound coming from right behind him made his blood freeze. The rasp of cold steel sliding out of its sheath had him spinning around to face the closer threat. A Kalith warrior headed straight toward him, his blade up and the promise of death in his pale eyes.

Hunter needed to buy enough time to draw his own sword out of the cane, so he swung his pack at the charging Other. The straps tangled on the Other's blade, jerking the canvas bag from Hunter's grasp and at the same time deflecting the blow meant to separate his head from his neck.

He retreated back into the trees to make it harder for the bastard to get off a clean swing. He could still do Hunter considerable harm, but the limited space would reduce how much power the Kalith could put into his attack.

Hunter pushed the button on his cane and yanked the blade clear of its ebony sheath. He considered using the wooden casing as a club but figured it would shatter the first time it blocked an attack. Besides, he didn't want to be the one to tell Jarvis he'd fucked up his family heirloom beyond repair.

He must be nuts to be worrying about such a stupid thing right then! He had bigger problems, like figuring out where the two humans had gone. They might
not have swords, but they probably did have guns. One way or the other, he was outnumbered. At best, he could hope to take as many of the three down with him as he could.

Now that he was properly armed, he smiled at the circling Kalith. “Okay, you bastard, bring it on.”

There was no way for Hunter to keep track of the humans, not while he was facing one of the best swordsmen he'd ever come across. The Others he usually faced were out of their minds in battle lust, making them desperate and careless. This guy was coldly calculating in his attacks, doing his best to back Hunter into a thicket, which would leave him no room to maneuver. Hunter charged forward, ducking to miss another well-placed swing of his enemy's sword.

Or at least he tried to duck. He'd had enough sword cuts over his career to know that this one would be painful and bloody but not fatal. Too bad the fight didn't end there. Instead, the coppery scent of Hunter's blood scented the night air, driving his opponent to try even harder to finish him off.

But that wasn't going to happen, even if Hunter had to turn tail and run. He'd already died too many times at the hands of this Kalith's buddies. Ignoring the pain in his arm and the cramping in his weak leg, he watched for an opening, figuring he'd only get one good shot at taking this guy out before his human friends showed up to join the party.

He feinted forward, then dropped back just as quickly, which made the Kalith lunge right at him. Perfect. Hunter swung his narrow blade out and then up,
right into the Kalith's side. The point sliced through clothing and flesh with equal ease, sending the Kalith stumbling backward to the ground.

Hunter yanked his blade free of his enemy's gut. As he prepared to finish the job, a gunshot rang out through the night. The impact knocked Hunter sideways over the edge of the trail, sending him bouncing down the hillside.

He wanted to scream, and God knows, he
needed
to scream. But between the bullet hole in his side and the wind being knocked out of him, all he could do was whimper. The quiet of the woods slowly settled around him as he prayed for the darkness to ease his pain and hide him from his enemies.

Hushed voices came closer, and then faded away. What were they saying? The calmer one was adamant about getting the Kalith back to the cave and shoving him back to the other side, where his own people could stitch him up. That made sense: they wouldn't risk a human doctor discovering the anomalies in the Other's blood, which would mark him as anything but human.

The crazed one wanted to charge down the hillside, looking for Hunter. They probably wouldn't give him a vote in their final decision, but Hunter really preferred that they take care of their friend. He even started to raise his hand to get them to call on him before he realized what a stupid move that would be.

God, what was wrong with him? He couldn't remember if blood loss always made him this giddy, but he definitely wasn't firing on all cylinders at the moment. He was cold, he hurt, and he wasn't sure he could hold off
sliding into oblivion for much longer. Maybe he'd stave off the darkness if he thought about something other than his pain and his enemies. Tate. Yeah, he could think about her.

Those blue eyes and how they'd looked as he'd made love to her, driving them both hard toward the finish line. How her soft body cushioned his much bigger, harder one. How sweet she'd tasted wherever he'd kissed her. Oh, yeah, that was better. Lots of details came to mind. How her breasts had fit his hands perfectly and her body had fisted his cock like a warm glove. God, he wished he'd told her how good it had been for him.