It had taken longer than she’d expected to change her rental car for one that Sandor wouldn’t recognize. She wasn’t sure if he trusted her to go to her hotel and then back to his house. The man had good instincts, and she’d told him that she wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing tonight.
He and Ranulf were convinced that the muggers were Kyth renegades, and therefore subject to Kyth justice. He knew how she felt about that, and if he had any feelings for her—and she believed he did—he had to respect her beliefs. She’d compromised her ideals once and had lost everything, and she wouldn’t give up her self-respect again, no matter how hot the sex was between them.
If it had been only sex, she’d have picked up the phone and called the cops to blow the whistle on Sandor and company. But it was much more than sex—so somehow, she had to step between Sandor and his intended target. He might never forgive her, but thanks to that tat on his arm, she knew the burden of guilt that he carried from executing Bradan Owen and didn’t want to see him add to it.
She slowed the car, scanning both sides of the street for any sign of Sandor or Ranulf. At the end of the block, she moved on, heading back toward where the renegade had been hunting the night before.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there in a few. I’m only a couple of blocks away.” Sandor snapped his cell closed, ending the call from Ranulf.
Neither of them had had any luck yet in tracking down the renegades. He needed something to eat, so he’d suggested meeting at a local sports bar to regroup, replenish, and then redeploy.
As he reached the door of the bar, he spotted Ranulf rounding the corner. Judging by the Viking’s grim expression, he wasn’t any happier about their lack of progress.
“I checked out the alley from last night,” Ranulf said as he arrived. “It’s definitely a different signature than the one down by the pier. That confirms that we’re looking for at least three individuals.”
“Great. Since when do renegades run in packs?”
Ranulf’s eyes flickered in anger. “It’s a first for me, too.”
“I was afraid of that.”
They took a table in the back corner, to keep their backs to the brick wall and give them a clear view of the room. Sandor waited until the waitress brought their beers, then moved out of earshot before speaking. “Do you prefer fighting with blades or bullets?”
If his question surprised Ranulf, it didn’t show. “Blades most of the time. I’m more comfortable with knives and swords, mostly because I grew up using them. Guns are easier to hide when you have to carry them in public, but they’re noisy.”
He took a long drink from his mug. “Since it’s important to keep our business from drawing outside attention, I pick the weapon best suited to the circumstances. But most of the time, with a renegade, my Talion abilities were the most effective if I could get close enough for hands-on work.”
“Makes sense. I’m a good shot with revolvers and automatics; less so with rifles.” Sandor braced himself and asked, “Would you be up for bringing me up to speed with knives? As you said, they’re quieter.”
Ranulf smiled at him over the top of his glass. “Sure. I need to teach Kerry, too. Once she’s mastered her Kyth abilities she’ll be able to defend herself from a direct physical attack, but not against bullets or blades. Since she could use a sparring partner, it’ll be easier for me to teach you together.”
Despite their improving relationship, Sandor was surprised by Ranulf’s offer. “Thanks, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
Back outside, Sandor paused to study the street after they’d only gone a block. Someone was watching them—someone who didn’t want to be seen.
“We’re not alone,” he told Ranulf.
“Yeah, I feel it, too.”
“I can’t tell where it’s coming from. No matter which way I face, I can still feel it.”
They started walking more slowly, then Ranulf stopped at the newspaper boxes lined up on the corner.
“I think there’s two of them, but I can’t pick them out of the crowd. It’s hard to know if they’re working together or not,” he said.
While Ranulf bought a paper, Sandor studied the cars driving by. He hadn’t been paying much attention to traffic, but he was pretty sure the dark blue SUV that had just passed them had gone by before. As it turned the corner ahead, he cursed.
Unless he was mistaken, that was Lena, sticking her nose in the middle of Talion business. Changing cars was exactly the kind of trick she’d use to throw him off the track. It would have worked, too, if he hadn’t happened to have looked up at the right time.
He should’ve known better than to trust her to stay out of this hunt, especially since he’d brought her into it in the first place.
“Ranulf, I’m pretty sure I know who one of our spies is. If I’m not mistaken, that was Lena who just drove by in that dark blue SUV.”
Ranulf threw back his head and laughed, then clapped one of his big hands on Sandor’s shoulder.
“I’d offer you my sympathy, but not too long ago, you were smirking over Kerry putting me through my paces. Turnabout is fair play.”
“Yuk it up all you want, but Kerry is Kyth. Lena isn’t.”
“I don’t see that making any difference in how you feel about her. It’s written all over your face whenever she’s in the room.”
Sandor sighed. “What should we do about her?”
Ranulf tucked his newspaper under his arm and started walking again. “Your call. If you think she’ll interfere less driving around, leave her be. If you want more control, flag her down and let her know her cover is blown.”
“I’ll flag her down—Wait a minute. What was that?”
“Did you see something?” Ranulf instantly went on full alert.
“I’m not sure. I thought I felt the same energy signature I picked up in the alley that first night, but it’s gone now.”
Yet the feeling that they were being watched hadn’t faded one iota. Sandor scanned the area ahead, watching for anything unusual. “He’s here, and he knows we’re hunting.”
There—someone was lurking near the mouth of an alley, but he ducked back out of sight when Sandor turned in that direction. Was he trying to lead them into a trap? Whoever he was, he hadn’t avoided capture this long by being stupid. The renegade definitely wanted Sandor to see him. The only question was, why?
“Did you see him, Ranulf? Watch the entrance to that alley half a block up on the other side of the street.”
“Missed him,” Ranulf said, shaking his head. “I was busy watching for Lena.”
“I suspect our renegade wants to play games and is daring us to follow him.” The dark energy stirred deep inside Sandor, ready to do battle. “I’m definitely in the mood to play. You catch up with Lena and get her out of here. I’ll check in after I’ve cleaned up this mess.”
“If he’s alone, we need him alive—at least until we find his partners. Then it’ll be open season on renegades.” Ranulf’s own energy was running high; his blue eyes were hot with flames.
“I’ll try, but he might not give me any choice but to take him out.”
Sandor’s hands were burning now, and Ranulf held out his own fingers to show Sandor they matched. They automatically clasped hands, sharing the dark buzz of their need to hunt.
Sandor placed his other hand on his tat. “With luck, I’ll be able to follow him back to his lair. When I find where he goes to ground, I’ll find the other two. This will end, I so vow.”
Ranulf clasped his own talisman with a solemn nod. “Sounds like a plan. Now go, before Lena gets back around the block. We don’t want her following you.”
After crossing the street, Sandor walked into a bar hoping it had a back door. That would get him out of Lena’s sight, and he also wanted to come at his target from behind. No one in the crowded bar took any notice of him walking straight through to the back. The rear door opened up on a narrow alley barely wide enough for a truck, with the normal clutter of
trash cans and stacks of flattened cardboard. Sandor knelt down low, prepared to wait out his prey.
It didn’t take long. A head appeared only long enough to take a quick look up and down the street Sandor had been on before, obviously checking to make sure the coast was clear. He probably planned to lead Sandor on a merry chase and then into a trap. Stupid. Rather than playing games, he should be running fast and hard.
Lena smacked the steering wheel and pulled over to the curb by Ranulf. She’d suspected that her luck had run out on that last drive by, but she’d expected Sandor to be the one waiting for her, not the Viking.
She unlocked the door and sighed as Ranulf got inside.
“What tipped you two off? I thought I was being so darn careful.”
Ranulf’s laugh was a deep rumble. “You were. I didn’t spot you at all until Sandor pointed you out to me. While he wasn’t happy to see what you were up to, he did think it was pretty damn clever of you to trade cars.”
“A fat lot of good that does me.” She looked up and down the street. “So where is he?”
Ranulf ignored her question. “Mind giving me a ride home?”
She knew a brick wall when she was sitting next to one. “I might as well.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. You’d be welcome to wait at the house with us if you’d rather not be alone.”
She considered the offer. “Thanks, but I’ll wait at Sandor’s. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him when he checks in.”
Why had Sandor ditched her this evening, when he’d let her accompany him previously?
There was only one answer that made sense. “He’s found the renegade, hasn’t he?”
Ranulf turned his powerful gaze in her direction. “Yes. Or to be more precise, the renegade let himself be found.”
She whipped the car over to the shoulder and stopped. “You let Sandor go after him alone, knowing what that bastard is capable of?”
Ranulf looked unconcerned. “No, Lena. I let Sandor do his job because I know what he is capable of. Even on his best day, that renegade doesn’t stand a chance against a Talion warrior—especially one of Sandor’s caliber.”
Lena wasn’t so sanguine. The two Talions probably were the Big Bad, but that didn’t make them bulletproof. What if this renegade didn’t face Sandor in a fair fight?
They rode in silence until she let Ranulf out in front of his driveway.
He hesitated before closing the door. “We’ll call when we hear anything. You do the same.”
She smiled and nodded, then drove off in the direction of Sandor’s house. But after she turned a corner, she pressed her foot on the accelerator and headed downtown to start a hunt of her own.
Sean eased out of the alley and into a nearby doorway to get a better view of the street, but the tall dark-haired guy was nowhere in sight. The redheaded giant was getting into a car, so now Sean didn’t know if he’d actually been with the other guy or just waiting around for his ride.
Sean would bet that the other guy was somewhere close by. The only question was where. He headed back into the alley and hurried to the other end, then eased around the corner to check both directions. The hair on his arms stood up, sending him scooting back to the safety of the alley.
The bastard had been trying to sneak up behind him! Well, two could play that game. With luck, he could lead the would-be hunter into another alley that looked like a dead end. Sean would escape by climbing on top of the fence and then pulling himself up on a fire escape. From there, he’d run back along the roof to drop down behind his prey and confront his enemy. Only one of them would walk out of that alley. He’d make Seattle safe for Tara and Kenny, or die trying.
He deliberately knocked over a stack of boxes, cursed as if it had been an accident, then ran for the street. As he rounded the corner, he glanced back down the alley.
Oh, yeah—the race was on.
Chapter 15
As Sandor pounded down the street, people stopped and stared, some reaching for their cell phones just in case. He’d be lucky to make it three blocks without someone calling the police.
He slowed to catch his breath and give the renegade time to get wherever he was going. The idiot probably didn’t realize that Sandor could follow the energy trail he was leaving as clearly as a hunter could follow hoofprints in soft ground.
His target rounded the corner at the bottom of the hill. Sandor picked up the pace, but still moved slowly enough that the others on the street quickly lost interest in him. The air was rife with the renegade’s energy, a tangled mess of all the flavors he’d been stealing from humans over the past few weeks. Normally Kyth absorbed energy from the humans around them much more slowly, so their energy signatures read as purely Kyth.
This skinny teenager stank from a sour mix of fear and pain. How many people had suffered in order to keep the renegade running on all that high octane? Well, he wouldn’t be running for long—or ever again, once Sandor got his hands on him. He’d get the little prick cornered and subdued. If the spot was private enough, he’d end it there if necessary. Otherwise he’d call for a pickup by Ranulf. The woods around the Viking’s mountain home would give them privacy to find out where the renegade’s buddies were hiding.
The evidence was clear that this renegade was responsible for most of the recent muggings. And since he was draining far more of his victims’ life force each time, it was only a matter of time before he killed. Far better that he die himself, before that happened.
Suddenly the trail turned cold, bringing Sandor to an abrupt halt. Okay, where had the renegade rabbited off to? Turning slowly, he studied his surroundings. The sun had sunk low in the sky. It would be light until well past nine o’clock, but the shadows were thickening between the taller buildings.
Walking back the way he’d come, he tested the air every few steps until he found the spot where the scent weakened and disappeared. Unless the runner had ducked inside somewhere, there was only one place the renegade could have gone to ground. Across the street was a short run of cedar fencing between two boarded-up buildings. The gate had been left open a few inches in invitation.
So the renegade had set his trap. Sandor checked the slide of his gun in the back of his waistband. He carried it as a last-ditch resort, but only a fool entered into combat with only one weapon at his disposal.
Crossing the street, he eased the gate open enough to slip through, then pulled it closed behind him, careful not to latch it. If he was wrong about facing a solitary renegade, he wanted the exit open and unobstructed.
In the narrow alley, there was no use in trying to keep to the shadows. His opponent had to know he was coming, so Sandor made no effort to hide, especially because the passageway was relatively clear of obstacles. That also meant there were few places his quarry could be hiding.
A few seconds later, Sandor stopped. The alley ended a short way ahead, the back end closed off with another stretch of fence. Why would the renegade lead Sandor into a dead end? He’d been there, though; Sandor could sense his energy hanging heavy in the late evening air. Where the hell had he gone?
Then the gate creaked open, and he heard familiar footsteps. How had Lena tracked him? This was not what he needed right now, especially with a renegade playing a lethal game of hide-and-seek.
He turned and snarled, “Damn it, Lena, why aren’t you back at the house? This is my job. Get out of here before it’s—”
“Too late.” Another voice finished his sentence, and the renegade dropped from a fire escape right behind Lena. He fisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head back to press a knife against her throat.
Sandor wasn’t sure if his heart was still beating; he couldn’t draw a breath. If the little bastard drew one drop of blood from her, his death would make Bradan’s look like a picnic.
He stepped toward them. “Let her go. I’m the one you want.”
The renegade, who didn’t look a day over twenty, dragged Lena back a step or two. His laugh was nasty. “I want b
oth of you dead. I’m tired of you screwing with my hunting.”
Sandor held his hands out to his sides and palms up. The position looked more harmless, but left him in a position to attack if the opportunity presented itself.
“Look, kid, we don’t need to do this. I just wanted to talk to you.” Sandor pushed a wave of calming energy toward both Lena and the renegade.
The renegade’s eyes narrowed in response. “I’m not a kid, and I have nothing to say.”
Sandor had to keep him talking. “I meant no insult, but I don’t know your name. What would you like me to call you?”
“These days I go by Sean.”
“Okay, Sean, my name is Sandor. Her name is Lena. She’s in town on vacation.”
That was a lie. But the more details the boy learned about them, the harder it would be for him to go on the attack. Sandor risked another step forward.
“So, Sean, why did you want me to follow you into this alley?”
“What makes you think I did?”
“You left the gate open. Damn fine job of getting behind me. That was clever.” And wouldn’t have saved his scrawny ass if Lena hadn’t intruded on their little party.
Sweat was pouring off Sean’s face despite the cool air. His eyes were almost bulging out of his face, with the whites showing all around his irises. Son of a bitch, the kid was on the verge of total meltdown. If Sandor didn’t play this exactly right, the renegade would kill Lena. He’d either strip her of all her energy directly, or slash her throat and soak up a hot shot from her pain.
Sandor met Lena’s gaze: he was glad to see she remained calm. As long as she could keep her emotions under control, the renegade would only get bland energy from her. It would soothe his ragged edges but not give him the high he was looking for. She blinked her eyes slowly, letting Sandor know that she was in control.
“Sean, you need to ease up on that blade before you hurt her. You’ve already broken enough of our laws. Don’t compound it by drawing first blood.”
Dark Warrior Unbroken Page 19
