“Bailey,” Mika rasped. “Her name is Bailey.”
Jacob gave a slow nod. “They wanted me to lure Bailey from behind her shield.”
Mika took a deliberate step backward. “You dishonored your brothers and the monks who have trained you.”
“I . . .” Jacob abruptly fell to his knees, his head bent. “Forgive me.”
“Don’t ask for my forgiveness. You’re not getting it,” Mika said, knowing he was being harsh, but unwilling to lie. Being a Sentinel wasn’t just learning how to shoot a gun or kill with your hands. It was a life that was devoted to duty and loyalty and utter commitment to your brothers. It couldn’t be any other way. Not when they were blessed with such dangerous gifts. Without rules, a Sentinel could easily become the monster that all humans feared. “As for Wolfe . . . good luck with that.”
Jacob lifted his head, his expression resigned. “I understand.”
Anxious to find Bailey, Mika gestured for Jacob to rise to his feet.
He didn’t fully trust the Sentinel. He wasn’t going to leave him behind.
“Stay beside me,” he commanded, heading down the hallway. “You so much as blink wrong and I’ll shoot you. Got it?”
Jacob swallowed, falling into step.
“Got it.”
Chapter Ten
Bailey knew that Limburg was speaking.
His lips continued to move despite the fact that she’d blocked him out.
Instead she concentrated on the unmistakable sense of Mika.
He was close. And growing ever closer.
Desperately she lowered her head, terrified that her expression might give away her heart’s sudden leap of joy. The last thing she wanted was to expose the fact that Mika had managed to track her.
Her effort, however, was wasted as the goon at her side abruptly yanked his phone from his pocket and gave a low hiss.
“Something’s going on,” he growled.
Limburg reached beneath his robe to pull out a gun.
“What?”
“An intruder.”
“Shit. I’ll go check it out.” He pointed the gun at Bailey. “Don’t take your eyes off her.”
Robert stepped forward. “You should wait here until—”
“I may be sick, but I still give the orders,” Limburg snapped, his face blotchy with a sudden anger.
“Yes, sir,” Robert muttered, grudgingly conceding the older man’s authority.
Limburg turned, taking a step toward the door when it was abruptly thrust open.
Bailey froze, her heart forgetting how to beat as Limburg lifted his gun, preparing to shoot.
Then, unexpectedly, Jacob stepped into the room. “Father.”
“Jacob.” As baffled as Bailey, Limburg lowered his gun, a scowl marring his brow. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m here to do what I should have done from the beginning,” Jacob muttered, launching himself at his father with enough force to send both of them into the empty crates.
Bailey gasped, rising to her feet as the two crashed to the floor.
The young Sentinel was stronger, but Limburg had a gun.
Intent on the awkward struggle, Bailey nearly missed the dark form that slid into the room directly behind Jacob.
Unfortunately, Robert wasn’t so easily distracted.
Even as Mika was rushing toward her, the goon was swiveling toward the door, squeezing off two shots.
“No!” she cried, instantly catching the scent of blood.
Mika didn’t even slow as he rammed straight into the shooter, slamming him into the wall with enough force to smash a few ribs.
Robert, however, had obviously been trained. Dropping the gun, he yanked out a knife he’d hidden beneath his shirt, attempting to stab it into Mika’s heart.
Forced backward, Mika looked remarkably relaxed as he pulled out a gun and pointed it between Robert’s eyes.
“On your knees,” Mika ordered.
“Fuck you.” With a remarkably swift motion, Robert threw the knife directly toward Mika’s face.
Mika easily ducked, but the human used the distraction to launch his own attack, knocking the gun from Mika’s hand.
Bailey gasped, but a Sentinel didn’t need a weapon. He was a weapon.
Using the attacker’s momentum, Mika easily flipped him over his shoulder. Then, turning so Bailey couldn’t witness the killing blow, he gave a sharp twist with his arms.
Not that he could disguise the sound of a neck snapping, or the heavy body hitting the floor with a lifeless thud.
Bailey grimaced, but she wasn’t sorry the man was dead.
He’d killed Jacob’s uncle and the healer in cold blood. And God knew, he would have eventually killed her as well.
He didn’t deserve sympathy.
Assuring himself the man was dead, Mika turned his attention to where Jacob was seated on his father’s chest, his hands wrapped around the older man’s throat.
At last satisfied that the most pressing danger had been taken care of, he moved to squat next to her.
Her heart twisted.
Damn. His hair was tangled around his dark, lean face. His shirt was covered in blood from the bullet wound in his upper arm. And the dark eyes smoldered with a barely leashed need for violence.
And he’d never, ever looked more beautiful.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
She gave a choked laugh. He’d been shot and nearly knifed, but his only thought was for her.
How had she ever doubted his love?
Her hand lifted to touch his wound, a pang of fear racing through her at the knowledge he would put himself at such risk.
“You’ve been shot.” She allowed her powers to flow from her palm into his damaged flesh. “Again.”
He smiled, his fingers running through her curls, as if he had a compulsive need to touch her.
“It’s a good thing I have a healer as my lover.”
Once she was certain the bleeding had stopped and the wound had started to close, she pulled her hand away and leaned against his chest.
Maybe she wasn’t Xena, but she did have her own special superpowers.
“Better?” she asked softly.
“Christ, yes,” Mika breathed, clearly not referring to his injury. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. “I thought I’d lost you.”
She pressed her lips to his throat, offering him a silent comfort.
“I knew you would come,” she murmured.
“Always.” The word was a solemn pledge. “I will always come for you.”
She didn’t doubt that for a second.
“You won’t ever have to,” she assured him. “From now on I intend to stick to your side like glue.”
His went rigid, his arms compulsively tightening around her.
“Is that a promise?”
She pulled back, meeting his wary gaze with a smile.
“Yes.”
Lost in the sheer beauty of simply being together, Bailey ignored the dark-haired Sentinel who strolled into the room.
For the moment she just wanted to savor being alive and in the arms of the man she loved.
Of course, it couldn’t last.
They were in a warehouse that reeked of fish, surrounded by the Brotherhood, who wanted all high-bloods dead.
Not really the time or place for a romantic reunion.
With a low growl, Wolfe strode across the room to pull Jacob off the unconscious Limburg.
“Don’t kill him, you fool,” he snapped.
Reluctantly, Mika helped Bailey to her feet, keeping his arm wrapped around her shoulder.
“That bastard is responsible for Bailey being kidnapped,” he informed his leader.
“Yeah, well, if he’s in the Brotherhood, then I want to give the psychics a chance to rummage through his brain,” Wolfe said, leaning down to grab Limburg and toss him over his shoulder. “He could have information we need.”
Mika made a sound of disgust.
“Then do I get to kill him?”
Wolfe flashed an evil grin. “He’s all yours.”
“Good.” Mika pretended he didn’t see Bailey roll her eyes. “What about the guards?”
Wolfe headed for the door. “Tied up and left for the cleanup crew. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Mika slid a finger beneath Bailey’s chin, his expression somber.
“Will you come with me?”
A slow smile that came from her very soul spread across her face.
“Just try to keep me away.”
Two weeks later
Mika walked backward down the narrow pathway that cut through the thick patch of trees, leading a blindfolded Bailey. Overhead the sun blazed from a cloudless blue sky, and a soft breeze carried the scent of wildflowers.
They were less than thirty miles from Valhalla, but they might have been a thousand.
There were no sounds beyond the scurry of small animals, no nosy neighbors, no constant threat they were about to be interrupted by their demanding jobs.
A perfect day to unveil his grand surprise.
His lips twisted in a wry smile.
Perfect day or not, he was as nervous as a schoolboy.
The past fourteen days had been nothing less than heaven.
Having Bailey sharing his rooms—his bed—had filled the aching emptiness that had haunted him for the past ten years.
And more importantly, they’d learned from their past mistakes.
Instead of retreating behind their mutual barriers when problems popped up, they actually discussed their feelings.
Wow. An amazing concept.
Still, he couldn’t deny that he’d been holding his breath, unable to shake the terror that Bailey might suddenly decide that she was being suffocated by their relationship.
That was why he’d made the decision that morning to put his fears behind him.
Bailey had pledged to her love.
It was time to look to the future.
Holding tight on to his hands, Bailey heaved a soft sigh.
“Can I look yet?” she demanded.
He steered her out of the trees and toward the small home that was built of gray stone and overlooked the natural lake.
“Not yet.”
“Mika.”
He chuckled at her exasperated tone. “Patience, little one.”
She wrinkled her nose, but she willingly allowed him to grab her shoulders and situate her so she would have the perfect view of the wraparound porch that framed the house and the small garden at the side.
There was even a white picket fence.
“Did you find out what happened to Jacob?” she asked.
“Yes.” He’d spoken with Wolfe before they’d taken off for the day. “He’s been allowed to return to the monastery, but he will have to return to the very beginning of his training. It’s more than he deserves.”
“What about his mother?”
“She died in childbirth.”
She shook her head. “That Limburg really was a piece of work.”
“No more discussion of the Brotherhood,” he scolded, moving to stand behind her. “Today is all about us.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” she murmured, her voice lowering in a husky invitation.
Mika’s blood heated, his head lowering to plant a kiss to the side of her neck.
“Temptress,” he murmured, his hands lifting so he could untie the blindfold.
With a smile, he tucked the strip of satin into the pocket of his jeans.
He had plans to use that handy piece of material later.
A groan was wrenched from his throat of the thought of having Bailey spread across the four-poster bed that waited in the house, her hands tied above her head.
Then his X-rated thoughts were interrupted when Bailey gave a small gasp.
“Oh, it’s lovely, Mika,” she murmured. “Who owns it?”
His fingers brushed through her soft curls. “You do.”
She made a sound of shock. “What do you mean?”
“I had this house built before you left,” he admitted. “I hoped . . .” He halted to clear his throat. “I thought you might be happier if we had a place to call our own.”
She slowly turned, her hand lifting to touch his face. “You kept it all these years.”
He gave a slow nod, his arms circling her waist.
“I never came here, but I couldn’t let it go,” he admitted. “I think I unconsciously feared that if I sold it, I would have to give up all hope of having you back in my life.”
“Oh, Mika,” she breathed, going onto her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love it.”
He studied her upturned face, his heart filled with a happiness he’d feared he’d never feel again.
“Will you stay here with me, little one?” he asked, his heart in his hands. “Will you help make this a home?”
“Our home,” she whispered, pressing her head to his chest.
“Yes.” Scooping her into his arms, he headed for the front door. “Our home.”
Scorpius Rising
Rebecca Zanetti
After all,
it really is all of humanity that is
under threat during a pandemic.
—MARGARET CHAN FUNG FU-CHUN,
Director-General of the
World Health Organization
Chapter One
Week 1
Eight people dead
Likelihood of Scorpius Containment: Definite
Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.
—CARL SAGAN
Wind whistled a mournful tune around aluminum buildings and across the jagged tarmac. Dr. Nora Medina shivered in the damp night air and ignored the water splashing over her flip-flops. The soldiers around her, armed to the nth degree, merely added to the pressure building in her chest.
Her nearly bare chest.
She fought to keep her balance while hustling up the metal steps to the third private plane of her day.
Enough.
She might be the only unarmed person on the quiet tarmac, and the only woman, but enough was fucking enough, because she was also the only person wearing a borrowed white blouse over a pink bikini top, barely-there wrap around her bikini-clad butt, and sandals.
Temper roared through her, and she planted her feet at the top of the stairs, only to slide across the wet surface.
“Ma’am,” said the nearest faceless soldier, reaching for her arm.
She jerked free and rounded on him. “I swear, if one more person calls me ‘ma’am’ or apologizes for the inconvenience of dragging me off a very nice beach in Maui several hours ago, I will take his gun and shoot him.”
The man’s expression didn’t change. “Yes, ma’am.”
She bit down a scream. “All right. Listen up. We are in Seattle, and I know we’re in Seattle.” She pressed her hands against chilled hips and tried to stand taller. “Do you know how I know?”
“No, ma’am.” Well trained, definitely at ease, the soldier kept his gaze above her right shoulder.
“I know,” she said slowly and through gritted teeth, “because I looked out the bloody window when we were landing. The next time you kidnap somebody, you might want to blacken out the windows.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, ever so slightly, toward the doorway to the plane.
“This is kidnapping, and I’ve had it. We’re in Seattle, and yep, guess what? I live here. So I’m going to head home, take an incredibly hot shower, change my clothes, and then call—well, somebody. Anybody who will tell me what the hell is going on.” Her rant would end perfectly if she could just get past him on the steps, but he easily blocked her way.
“All apologies, ma’am, but our orders are to escort you. Please embark.” He kept his voice level and polite.
She swallowed. There were six of them, one of her, and no way would she win a physical altercation. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”
“Nora?” a voice called from inside the plane. “Get your ass in here.”
Every nerve she owned short-circuited. Her gut clenched as if a fist had plowed into her solar plexus. Slowly, spraying water, she pivoted toward the opening. It couldn’t be. It really couldn’t be.
The voice she knew well. Male, low, slight Scottish brogue a decade in the States hadn’t quite banished. Her heart thundered, and fire skidded across her abdomen to flare deep. How was this even possible? She steeled her shoulders and approached the plane opening as if a bomb waited inside. So many thoughts rioted through her brain, she couldn’t grasp just one.
Warmth hit her first when she stepped inside, followed by another shock wave. “Deacan Devlin McDougall,” she murmured.
He stretched to his feet from one of the luxurious leather chairs, standing in the aisle—the only place high enough to accommodate his six-foot-four frame.
All the thoughts zinging around her head stopped cold.
Nothing. Her brain fuzzed. The years had been good to him, experience adding an intriguing look of danger to his masculine beauty.
His green gaze, dark and piercing, scored her see-through shirt, light wrap, and bare legs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the extraction.”
Her chin lifted. Heat seared through her lungs, lifting her chest, and she slowly tried to control her body. No way would she let him see how difficult he made it for her to breathe—even after all this time.
He wore faded jeans over long legs and a dark T-shirt across a broad chest—no uniform. But the gun strapped to his leg was military issue, now wasn’t it? The weapon, so silent and deadly, appeared at home on his muscled thigh.
His dark brown hair, glinting with red highlights, now almost reached his shoulders. Very different from the buzz cut he’d had years before. His eyes, the green of a Scotland moor, held secrets, unplumbed depths, and promise. Chiseled face, hard jaw, and definite warrior features proudly proclaimed his ancestry, and even now, she could see the Highlander in him.
On the Hunt Page 10
