Jamie put the phone down. “She’s okay for now, appreciates the call.” He smiled. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Before she could think of what else to say the elevator door at the far end of the hall opened.
The man from the diner stepped out. Her heart skipped a beat, seeing his stoic face. The long trench coat swept around his jeans, hands tucked into pockets.
“Ah! Mr. Jackson.” Jamie beamed. “I hope you’re finding everything to your liking.”
“So far, so good.” The mercenary looked Kara over. “And you are…”
“I’m Kara.” She offered her hand. “Just checking in. I run errands for one of the ladies on the third floor and thought I’d check if she needed anything today.”
“Ah.” The tall man nodded. He pulled one hand out of his pocket and gave her a firm shake. “One of the lovely things about a small town—everyone knows everyone else and everyone helps everyone else.”
Kara pressed her lips together in what she hoped was a friendly grin. In her mind the clock started, ticking off the seconds Liam had to search the man’s room.
McKay/Jackson turned to Jamie. “Actually, that’s a fine place to start. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” He smiled, showing off pearly-white teeth. “When I heard we were coming up here, I realized it was a possible chance to reconnect with an old friend.”
The mercenary pulled out a glossy wallet-size photograph from an inside pocket and placed it on the counter, his thin fingers pressing down on the edges. “Name of Liam. We served in the military together, got out at the same time. Lost touch with him about a year ago—he was in Denver last time we chatted. I was thinking maybe he passed through here—do you recognize him?” He directed his attention to Kara. “How about you?”
Kara’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at Liam’s image. His facial hair was gone, the long ponytail as well. But it was him, smirking at the cameraman as he walked by, wearing a leather jacket.
His eyes were…cold. Calculating.
Lethal.
“He’s a good-looking fellow,” she started, frantically searching for the words. “But I don’t recall seeing anyone like him in town. And I’d remember someone like that.”
Jamie pulled the image toward him, frowning. “Looks familiar.” The hotel manager squinted. “Think it could be Mr. Pearson on the second floor? When he was younger, of course.” He looked at McKay. “He’s a First Gulf War veteran, though.”
Kara dropped a fingernail on the photo and dragged it to her, making sure to leave an indentation on the surface. “Could be.” She scrunched her nose up. “A little too clean-shaven for my liking.”
“Not likely it’s your Mr. Pearson. This man would be in his thirties now, not an old man.” McKay extracted the photo from under her finger. “But thanks.” He looked toward the front door. “Any suggestions who I’d talk to about this guy?”
“Maybe Marie—the police chief.” Jamie studied the image again. “She sees a lot of people come and go through her station. She’s got a good eye for faces.”
“I don’t want to go annoying her first thing in the morning,” McKay replied in a smooth, gentle voice. “She’s probably busy, keeping the town safe. After her, who would you suggest?”
“Geraldine,” Jamie volunteered before Kara could answer. “She’s the librarian and chief gossip. A lovely lady. She might remember a tourist wandering around who matches that description.”
“Good, then. Perhaps I’ll go have a word with her.” McKay tucked the photo into his pocket and turned away.
Kara couldn’t breathe.
Geraldine.
“The library won’t be open yet,” she said, scrambling for words. “She doesn’t unlock the doors until ten.” She spun toward Jamie. “Can we get Mr. Jackson a coffee while he waits? He can sit here in the lobby and enjoy the fireplace until the library opens. I’ll start setting up the wood, and you can light it up, get rid of some of that morning chill.”
Jamie frowned. “I thought she was opening up early to set up the holiday lights and the Christmas tree?”
A cold shiver of panic crept up her spine. “Yes, but she called me just before I came over—said she was running late today. Give it another hour or two.” Kara smiled at McKay. “You know how timetables are flexible in these small towns. Coffee?”
McKay nodded.
“Right,” Jamie said. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right back. How do you take it?”
“Black, please.” The merc watched Jamie move toward the back room before turning his attention to Kara. “Thank you for your help. Be a shame to stand outside the library, waiting for Geraldine to show up.”
A sliver of relief filled her heart at the successful diversion. “No problem. I hope you can find your friend.”
His lips turned upward in a smirk. “I’m sure I will.” He glanced toward the front door. “Perhaps you can show me where the library is. Don’t want to go wandering around town, not in this weather.”
Kara tried not to look at the hotel office, imagining Jamie fulfilling the coffee order from the old machine kept on hand for staff and visitors. “Sure. Come to the front door, and I’ll point the way, then you can come back and enjoy your drink.”
McKay moved closer and touched her right elbow. “That’d be nice.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Maybe you’ve forgotten we met before—in the diner.”
Her heart skipped a beat as he gripped her arm.
Chapter Sixteen
The Sons of Cain used low and high tech in pursuing their targets—which is why Liam found an expensive laptop and a plain brown paper envelope holding the details of McKay’s mission.
Both were easy to break into—the laptop via an expert hacking program he’d kept on the USB flash drive and the envelope by simply opening it.
Of course, that was only possible after defusing the handful of traps set around the hotel room. They weren’t deadly, nothing as dramatic as a pin falling out of a grenade.
It was the little things that counted.
A paper clip set on the desk drawer, poised to fall off if the drawer were opened. The luggage zipper exactly thirteen teeth down.
Liam went around the room carefully, noting the traps. Many of them he’d used in the past, making it easy to reset.
The computer booted up quickly, the hacking program copying vital data to the flash drive.
He turned his attention to the manila envelope on the table, gently easing it open, alert to anything that might not be easily replaced and/or reset.
His stomach dropped as he saw the black and white photograph clipped to the generic printout of a web search about Everett’s Ridge.
Slowly he pushed the paper back down and replaced the envelope as he’d found it.
The computer beeped, signaling the data theft was over.
He pocketed the USB flash drive and headed for the door, taking the time to carefully check and reset the tiny markers on his way out. Every extra second he spent in the room grated on his nerves, but he couldn’t afford to let the Sons know someone was onto them.
The entire town’s safety rested on it.
It was only when he got into the nearby stairwell that he sent a two-word text to Kara.
GET. OUT.
He ran down the stairs, imagining her disengaging from McKay with a gentle denial, excusing herself for some silly errand. Once they got back to the apartment he’d show her the stolen data and…
The pressure on Kara’s arm increased as McKay led her away from the front desk, Jamie busy in the office and unaware of the drama happening in the lobby.
“We’re going out the back. I saw an exit sign over there,” McKay rasped in her ear as he pushed her along. “Play along, and I won’t kill your buddy at the front desk.” He paused. “But I can’t say the same for your boyfriend.”
“Who?” She tried to slow him down a fraction, dragging her feet.
“Don’t,” he warned. His right h
and slipped inside his coat. “I can kill you right here and now, or you can make an argument for why you should live a few more hours.” He grinned. “I’m looking forward to the negotiations.”
Kara paused, weighing her options. Starting a fight here wouldn’t do anything other than get Jamie hurt.
“You’re not going to regret missing that coffee,” she said by way of keeping the communication going. “The machine’s older than Jamie is.”
His right hand shifted again, and she saw the slender knife he was holding. “Tell me why you followed me here from the diner.”
“It’s a small town,” she deadpanned. “Got to be somewhere.”
Pain arced through her elbow joint as he jabbed his thumb into a pressure point. “Hysterical. You’ve served your purpose—you brought us here. But don’t think that’s going to save you when this is all over.”
“What?” She stumbled as he pushed them through the exit door and into the back alley. “What did you say?”
He laughed as he pressed her up against the hotel wall, the cold of the bricks seeping through her leather jacket to chill her body. His left forearm pressed against her throat. “I’m going to ask you only once—where is Liam Wolfson? Was that him in the café?” He paused. “Did he send you after me? A little thing like you?” He chuckled. “You’re way out of your league. But if you beg me, I’ll make it fast.”
Kara glared at him. “Go to hell.”
“You first.” His grip on the blade tightened, his knuckles white.
Kara’s cell phone hummed.
McKay hesitated for a fraction of a second before bringing the knife out and up, swinging toward her body.
The nervous tremors inside her belly disappeared, replaced with a steady, calm resolution.
She twisted away and slumped down, bending her knees as she brought her right fist up hard into McKay’s groin, adding in an extra twist for threatening her. Her left hand swung down and to the left, slapping his hand to the side.
The blade still sliced through her open jacket—but it wasn’t the fatal wound he’d hoped for.
Instead he found himself cupping his aching balls with one hand, facing a very annoyed woman who had slid by him into the open space, away from the wall.
“Bitch,” he snarled. “I’ll slice you right open for that.” A Scottish accent crept into his voice, betraying his origins.
“You going to talk or you going to fight?” Kara asked. She pressed her left hand to her side, pushing through the pain. “Thought you Sons of Cain were tough guys.”
He lunged at her with the knife, angry jabs she easily avoided.
The throbbing in her side increased with each second as she dodged the blade, the blood oozing through her fingers.
No time to waste.
Kara stepped in as he finished another swing, trapping the man’s right hand against her injury as she brought her left arm down. Her right elbow shot up into McKay’s face, and she heard the satisfying crack, signaling a broken nose.
Another punch into his face and he went down, the blade clattering to one side on the cement.
She grabbed him with her good hand and hoisted him up, preparing to slam him against the closed door.
“Tell me what you know,” she demanded.
His head lolled to one side, his eyes rolling back. Kara cursed silently.
The exit door suddenly swung open, Liam coming face-to-face with the semi-conscious mercenary.
At any other time, in any other place, she would have laughed at the expression on Liam’s face.
But the burning spread through her body, and she released McKay to drop to her knees, gasping for air.
The ground fell away, tearing her out of this world and throwing her into another.
The memories returned with a rush, swamping her senses.
This wasn’t a hallucination, fed by children’s books. This was real, she was real… She was a Valkyrie.
She soared over the Great Halls, spear at the ready. In a flash of multicolored light, she was at the desert battlefield—the dry air pulling at her lungs. From her position in the sky she could see her target—the man kneeling on the ground, both hands to his bloody torso, death only minutes away. His automatic rifle lay beside him, pointed at the people gathered against the wall.
They were all dead, slumped against the pocked concrete.
It was an all too familiar scenario.
She hovered over the scene, putting the pieces together. The human shields had failed to protect him against the military units that swarmed over the area, not caring who stood in their way. The gunman ended up killing his hostages as the soldiers fired on him in a horrible no-win situation.
The end of her spear thumped into the ground as she landed and glared at the fighter.
Kara sneered under her helmet, knowing he couldn’t hear a word she said. She pointed at the nearby bodies. “You thought they would protect you. When they didn’t, you took their lives with your last breath.”
He wheezed as he stared past her, through her, the traces of a prayer on his lips.
“No mercy for a monster like you.” She touched his forehead with the tip of the razor–sharp spear, feeling the surge of energy shoot down and out of the magical weapon.
The body tensed for a second before he fell face–first onto the ground, raising a puff of dust with the impact.
The ghostly visage rose, uninjured and with a wide smile on his face. He didn’t see her, his eyes on the sky above them.
“You believe you’re going to Valhalla. You’re wrong.” Kara etched the symbol in the air with her spear, tensing as the colors spiraled down around them, the shifting between planes happening in a flash.
They came out over a desert wasteland, one she knew all too well—she’d delivered many souls here as part of her penance.
The fighter materialized about six feet above the ground, his eyes wide as he realized where he was—or where he wasn’t, based on his shocked expression. He screamed, a panicked bellow as he fell, the dark scarred ground smelling of ashes and burned flesh. He hit the ground with a loud thud, his ethereal form gone.
“What?” The terrorist stood up and spun around, taking in the blighted skyline. “Where are we?” He stared at her. “Who are you?”
“I’m the one who brought you to Helheim. Payment for your sins.” She hovered just out of reach. “Where did you think you were going?”
“Heaven.” He thumped his chest, the bullet wounds still oozing blood. “I did my duty, fighting the heathens who invaded my land and cleansing the unbelievers. I earned my eternal reward.”
“Did you now?” The snake slithered toward him as she watched, leaving no trail in the sand. “And what reward did you think that would be?”
The strike was hard and fast into the man’s ankle, through the leather. He shrieked as he spun around in a vain attempt to dislodge the reptile, finally latching onto the foot-long creature with both hands and pulling it free.
Kara laughed as he struggled with the snake, earning more bites on his hands and face before he managed to throw it away.
“What evil lives here?” he rasped. His voice rose, on the edge of panic. “What?”
“Whatever you fear the most.” The earth came alive around the killer, dozens of snakes emerging from the sand to encircle him as she chortled. “For your sins, you will stay here, until Ragnarök.”
She threw back her head and roared as he ran back and forth, trying to find a way out of the deadly circle. “Perhaps you can spend some of your time repenting of your sins.” A flap of her wings, and she rose into the sky, brandishing her lance.
“What?” the man repeated as the snakes moved in, hissing and coiling in readiness to strike. “Wait! Wait! You have to save me.” He beat his chest. “I can change. I can be a better man.”
“You had the chance on Midgard to choose your path. Now accept your fate.” Kara let out one last laugh as the screams started. The lance tip danced in the air, tracing
the symbol for home.
Valhalla.
“Valhalla,” she repeated with a painful gasp as she opened her eyes. A blurry Liam came into focus, his concerned stare startling her. An unconscious McKay lay nearby.
“What the…” He pressed his hands against her bloody shirt. “Son of a bitch!”
“Knife.” She smiled. “It’s not deep, don’t worry.”
“We’ll go to the clinic. Then we’re getting out of town. Here.” He moved her hands to the wound. “Press as hard as you can.”
He rose and strode to the nearby dumpster, throwing open the metal lid. “I’m the one they’re after. If they can’t find me, they’ll leave. No point in staying if their target’s on the run, no money in making a spectacle and drawing attention to themselves.”
“So we run? After this?” She watched him pull out a pair of handcuffs from his backpack. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He pulled McKay’s hands behind his back and cuffed them before pulling a rag from a pocket and stuffing it into the semiconscious merc’s mouth. “This is only a temporary solution—his friends will arrive at some point in the next few hours, and if they don’t find him, Tony will when he brings out the trash later on this afternoon. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Liam picked the man up and dropped him into the metal bin, “And don’t even think of suggesting I kill him. I’m not doing that anymore unless we’re in dire circumstances.”
“I understand that.” She forced herself to her feet as Liam slammed the lid on McKay’s face. “And I wasn’t going to. Don’t want you backtracking on your rehabilitation now, after all this time.” Kara inspected her side, pulling the shirt up. “Damn it. I don’t want a scar.”
“I’m more worried about you bleeding out.” He pulled a gauze pad out of the backpack and tore the sealed envelope open.
Warrior Nights Page 12
