Semi-Charmed

by Isabel Jordan

  Riddick’s eyes met hers and held for a moment. “Absolutely terrified,” he said quietly.

  It was Harper’s turn to gulp under the intensity of Riddick’s gaze. She had no idea if they were having a genuine moment, or if he was simply playing good cop to her bad cop. But then he blinked and his expression went back to its usual indifference, leaving her to wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing.

  Benny grunted. “Well, I don’t care what you have your bitch do to me—“

  Whatever Benny was going to say next was interrupted by Riddick’s fist smashing into his mouth. Harper and Benny both blinked in surprise as blood trickled from the corner of the halfer’s mouth. Neither of them had even see Riddick’s hand move.

  “Don’t call her that again,” Riddick said, deadly serious and deadly calm.

  Benny licked the blood off his mouth, his gaze darting nervously between Riddick and Harper. “S-sorry, lady. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

  Harper knew the feminist in her should be outraged by Riddick’s Neanderthal behavior, but she couldn’t bring herself to listen to that part of her nature. After all, no one had ever defended her honor. The gesture was touching…in a twisted kind of way.

  “It’s OK. I’ve been called worse. Look, just tell us what we need to know and we’re out of here.”

  “I can’t,” he whined. “I’m telling you, Phoenix is one scary dude. He’ll kill me.”

  “And you think I won’t?”

  Silently, Harper begged Benny just to give them the information. Because no matter how scary Phoenix was, right now, Riddick was scaring the holy hell out of her. The look in his eyes was downright feral. She really didn’t want to see Benny lose an arm…or some other body part.

  Benny’s left eye began to twitch. “Being a killer and being a sadistic bastard are two different things. I’d rather have you kill me than Phoenix.”

  Riddick was out of his chair and standing over Benny before Harper knew what was happening. “So,” he said in his low, gravelly voice, “I guess you just need a demonstration of what a sadistic bastard I can be, huh?”

  Benny didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t intend to, but because before he could formulate a response, Riddick had pulled him out of the chair by his neck.

  Holding Benny’s small frame a couple of inches off the ground in front of him, Riddick made his way to the sliding glass door at the opposite end of the room that led to the patio. With one swift kick, the door shattered and Benny and Riddick were outside.

  Benny shrieked as his skin started to smoke. He clawed frantically at Riddick’s hand on his throat. “Put me down,” he choked. “Put me down!”

  “Where’s Phoenix?”

  Benny continued to struggle against Riddick’s hold. “Please…”

  Riddick shook him until he stilled. “Where’s Phoenix?”

  Harper held a hand over her nose and mouth to block the stench of burning flesh. “For God’s sake, Benny, tell him what he wants to know!”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

  Riddick didn’t move.

  “I said I’d tell you!”

  Harper grabbed Riddick’s arm. His gaze darted to hers, and the look in his eyes reminded Harper of a wild animal.

  “He can’t help us if he’s dead,” she reminded him urgently.

  Slowly, as he stared into her eyes, his gaze returned to some semblance of normal. Wordlessly, he turned and threw Benny back into the apartment through the shattered door.

  Harper didn’t release his arm, and he made no move to break away. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  “Jesus, is he okay?” Benny wailed as he huddled over his kitchen sink, running water over his arms. “That crazy son-of-a-bitch tried to burn me alive!”

  Riddick took a few deep breaths as Harper answered, “And he’ll do it again if you don’t tell us where to find Phoenix.”

  “Last I heard his coven hangs out at the old distillery.”

  “How many in the coven?” Harper asked.

  “I swear to Jesus I don’t know.”

  Harper glanced up at Riddick. “I’ll call Lucas.”

  Riddick shook off her hand and left the apartment without a word.

  Well, of all the ungrateful…“You’re welcome!” she called after him again.

  She looked at Benny and shrugged. “He has some issues.”

  “No shit,” Benny replied, holding up his singed arms.

  Chapter Nine

  Riddick’s hands had been shaking when Harper drove him home from Benny’s place, and they were still shaking as he peered through a cracked, grimy window at the old distillery an hour later.

  And it wasn’t his frustration that the VCU refused to storm the place without a huge task force—and a fucking hostage negotiator, for Christ’s sake—that would take two hours to assemble. What bothered him most was he knew the shaking would stop the moment he choked the shit out of Benny, and he couldn’t do it.

  Damn it. Somehow Harper Hall had managed to get under his skin, in his head. He hadn’t wanted to…Hell, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was afraid of. But he had a sneaking suspicion he was afraid she’d think less of him if he killed Benny for no good reason.

  He almost laughed out loud at the insanity of it all. He’d only known her two days, and the chances of her holding a high opinion of him now were slim, but yet he was shaking—shaking for God’s sake—because he hadn’t wanted to do anything to shock or offend her, make her fear him.

  If he had to guess, he’d say he was developing an unhealthy obsession with his new “not” partner.

  But Harper wasn’t around now, he reminded himself. Phoenix’s coven was fair game.

  With an assessing eye, he surveyed the building. It was huge and open, probably about the size of a football field, and three coffins were spaced in shadows a fair distance apart.

  He’d never fit through any of the windows, but one corner of the building looked to have at one time been office space, complete with drywall and a drop ceiling. He could go in through the ventilation system and easily come down through the ceiling tiles in the old office.

  He glanced at his watch. It was almost six o’clock. He had precious little time to get in, find the kid, and get out before the vamps started rising. If they rose before he could get out, things would get dicey. With the spacing of the coffins, he could take out one, probably two of the vamps without any trouble, but taking out three could get messy.

  He tried to squash the thrill that chased through his blood at the thought of taking on three vamps at once, but couldn’t quite manage it. Right or wrong, this was what he was about: the hunt, the kill.

  And then he saw him. The boy—Dylan, if he remembered right—was chained to a pipe that jutted out of the cracked concrete floor in the far corner of the warehouse.

  Riddick fought for cool detachment as he stared at the boy’s sickly pallor, the scabbed-over bites on his neck and arms, the dull look in his blue eyes.

  A pebble skittered across the battered wood planks of the dock behind him, as if someone had kicked it.

  He had company.

  Acting on pure instinct, Riddick dropped, spun, and neatly swept the intruder’s legs out from under him. The man’s weapon clattered to the ground as he went down on his back hard, arms wind-milling.

  Before the man could catch his breath or reach for another weapon, Riddick was on him, pinning his arms above his head.

  Riddick glanced down at his uninvited guest, and let loose with every cuss word he’d ever heard in his life. “God damn it, Harper. What the fuck are you doing here?”

  He felt her try and fail to suck in a deep breath. Her eyes widened in panic. He’d probably knocked the wind right out of her when he’d dropped her on the dock. Shit.

  Riddick sat up, straddling her hips. “Calm down. Take a deep breath through your nose.”

  As usual, she didn’t listen to him. She opened her mouth and shook her head frantically.

  �
��You can do it.”

  He let her try again to breathe through her mouth, then gave up being patient and leaned down so that his mouth covered hers. Her eyes widened even further and she immediately sucked in a huge breath through her nose.

  “There you go,” he said against her mouth. “I thought that would do it.”

  “That’s not fair,” she whispered.

  He eased off her and helped her to her feet. “No one ever accused me of playing fair. Besides, you’re not supposed to be here.”

  She dusted off her backside. “Neither are you, but here you are nonetheless.”

  He frowned at her. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Oh, please. I saw the look in your eyes when Lucas said it would take two hours to gather the team. No way were you going to wait. I knew you were going hunting.”

  Riddick crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the crossbow she’d dropped. “And you thought I’d need your help?”

  She mimicked his stance. “Maybe. I know you won’t believe this, but I’m pretty good with that thing.”

  He fought the urge to snort. “Harper, you shouldn’t be here. Go home.”

  Her chin came up, and he knew that unless he threw her over his shoulder and carried her out, Harper wasn’t going anywhere.

  He shrugged. “OK, you had your chance.”

  Riddick bent at the waist, dodging smoothly under the arm she threw up to ward him off, put his shoulder into her stomach, and upended her.

  “Damn it, Riddick,” she wailed, pounding his back with her fists. “Put me down!”

  He put his hand on her butt—to steady her, he lied to himself—and shifted her weight so that she couldn’t punch him in the kidneys again. “I will. Just as soon as you get in your car and drive yourself as far away from here as humanly possible. Are you willing to do that?”

  She got quiet, which was answer enough for him.

  “All right, then. You’re going to have to wait in your trunk until I get the kid out.”

  “No! I can’t go in the trunk!”

  He steeled himself against the panic in her voice. He’d rather have her scared than dead. “You’re not giving me any choice.”

  She gave him one more good punch to the back before he set her on her feet, fished the keys out of her pocket, and popped the trunk. Grabbing her fist a heartbeat before it connected with his nose, he wrenched her toward him and moved to toss her in the trunk.

  “Please, Riddick, no. It’s too small. I c-can’t go in there.”

  He paused, looking down into her wide, terrified eyes. “Will you stay in the car while I go in there?”

  She nodded without hesitation. “Just don’t make me go in the trunk.”

  Great. Now he felt like a bully for trying to keep her safe. How did she manage to do that to him?

  He tipped her chin up with his thumb, forcing her to look him in the eye. “If I’m worried about you, I’m not worried enough about the kid. Do you understand?”

  Harper opened her mouth—no doubt to object—but quickly snapped it shut and gave a jerky nod instead.

  Riddick closed his eyes and released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Okay. I’m going in. I’m gonna try to get him out without waking any of them up, but if something happens to me, call Cooper and don’t try to go in yourself.”

  She grabbed his bicep as he started to turn away from her.

  His gaze locked with hers. The panic was gone, replaced by concern. He laid his hand over hers. “Dylan will be fine,” he assured her.

  Her fingers tightened, digging into the muscle. “Be careful,” she said, her voice shaking.

  It took a moment for words to sink in. Something more powerful than blood lust surged through his veins as he realized she was worried about him. She would feel…something if he died. No one in the world deserved her concern less, but he didn’t care. With Harper, it seemed, he’d take what he could get.

  Chapter Ten

  Harper watched through the broken warehouse window, holding her breath when Riddick came into view. As if he hadn’t just fallen twenty feet and landed sure-footedly like a cat, he backed toward the wall, keeping his eyes on the coffins around him.

  Dylan’s gaze followed his every move, but he said nothing and didn’t move a muscle. Thank God for small favors.

  She said another heart-felt thank you to whatever Gods might be listening when no vamps rose out of their coffins.

  If he was able to grab the kid and get out without killing anyone, it would be a miracle.

  She saw Riddick kneel down in front of Dylan, snap the boy’s shackle, and extend his hand to him. Dylan flinched away as if Riddick had swung on him.

  “Come on, kid,” Harper muttered under her breath. “Go with him!”

  But even as she said it, she knew Dylan wasn’t going to budge. After all, even Harper had to admit that Riddick looked more like a bad guy than a good guy. And given the way he’d recently handled her, she seriously doubted Riddick’s ability to put the kid at ease and finesse his way out of there.

  If the kid cried, they were both dead. Riddick was no doubt strong and fast, but he was only human. There was no way he could get the kid out before the vamps figured out what was going on.

  Scooping up her crossbow, she started looking for an entrance other than the ceiling. After all, she might be stupid and crazy, but hell, she wasn’t suicidal.

  Riddick swallowed a growl of frustration as he watched Harper open and back through the tiny window closest to the kid.

  He’d just have to kill her, he decided. It was the only way he’d ever again have a moment’s peace.

  With stealth he didn’t know she possessed, she eased herself soundlessly to the ground. She spared him a nervous glance. He made a slashing motion with his finger across his throat and mouthed, “Later.” She swallowed and averted her eyes.

  He turned his attention back to the coffins. No movement there. At least something was going right.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harper go down on one knee in front of the boy and extend her free hand to him, still clutching the crossbow in the other. The boy glanced at the crossbow, then back up at Harper. She smiled at him and motioned with her hand. After an initial hesitation, he went to her.

  Riddick breathed a sigh of relief as Harper scooped him up into her arms. She hooked one arm under his butt to support him as he wrapped his scrawny little arms around her neck and buried his face in her hair. Smart kid.

  Okay, Riddick thought grudgingly as she made her way back to the window, maybe he wouldn’t kill her.

  Just as Harper turned her back to him and moved to lift Dylan through the window, Riddick heard a whisper of movement behind him, and a cold chill shot down his spine. His luck had finally run out.

  “Get out of here!” he shouted to Harper, who’d stopped and was looking at him through wide eyes over her shoulder.

  Instinct kicked in once again as Harper pushed Dylan through the window. Riddick drove his elbow back into the vampire’s nose, then whipped around and smashed his knee with one solid kick. The vampire shrieked and fell to the ground, clutching his temporarily ruined knee. Riddick took grim pleasure in the fact that not only was the vamp out of his hair for a while, but he would also be in blinding pain until his bones regenerated.

  But Riddick didn’t have time to savor his victory. Two more vamps came at him in a blur of movement. One landed a solid punch to his stomach, and the other managed to slice his forearm with what looked to be a ten-inch hunting knife before he got his bearings.

  The two vamps backed-off enough to circle him and give him a good look at them. Riddick stayed still, but his eyes followed their every move. He recognized the larger of the two as a six-foot-five freak named Hart, a follower who’d been letting Phoenix herd him for at least ten years.

  Hart had a hollow-cheeked face, sallow skin and skeletal body, all of which were rare for a vampire. After all, vampires were just as image-conscience as th
e average human, and most of them only chose to change pretty people. The vamp who’d changed Hart obviously had no sense of aesthetics.

  The other one was a short, stocky guy Riddick didn’t know. Judging by the graceless way he moved, he estimated the vamp couldn’t be more than a year or two dead. Unfortunately, Hart was a lot older than that…at least a century or more.

  And the good-news-bad-news scenario of the moment was that Phoenix was nowhere to be found. Good news that he wouldn’t have to fight Phoenix and Hart at once, bad news that Phoenix was sleeping elsewhere.

  “Well, well,” Hart practically purred, his floor-length leather trench brushing the filthy concrete as he moved, “if it isn’t Noah Riddick. I’d heard you were dead.”

  Riddick gave him a cool smile. “You should know better than anyone that I’m not that easy to kill.”

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  Hart was one of the first vamps Riddick had ever taken on, and he hadn’t faired too well. He’d done his fair share of damage, but Hart had still handed him his ass. If Mischa hadn’t sent in a team to bail him out, there was no doubt in Riddick’s mind that Hart would’ve killed him.

  But that had been twenty years ago, and Riddick had learned a thing or two since then.

  But then again, Hart might’ve learned a thing or two himself.

  “Oh, do shut up,” Hart muttered to his fallen comrade who still lay on the floor in a crumpled heap, moaning and whimpering occasionally. “There’s something terribly disconcerting about a cold-blooded monster sobbing while lying in the fetal position, don’t you agree, Riddick?”

  Riddick ignored the question and nodded in the direction of the other vamp. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

  Hart chuckled, but Riddick heard the other vamp growl low in his throat. Yep, he thought. Hart’s little buddy didn’t have the control to be over a year dead. That went a long way towards evening the odds.

  “I can see you’re still sorely lacking in the social graces, Riddick.” He stopped directly in front of Riddick, close enough that he could smell stale blood on the vamp’s breath. “Although, from what I could see, you still have impeccable taste in women. This one isn’t as classically beautiful as Cecelia, but she’s…hotter, more sensual. Perhaps after you’re dead, she and I can get acquainted.”