by Jill Knowles
“Not to mention The Red Pony.” Even his bloodthirsty nieces -- full-blooded Furies -- had hated that book. It had been shredded with extreme prejudice, the remains burned in the furnace. They’d been grounded for a week and forced to give up their allowance for a month in order to pay the library for a replacement. Remembering their satisfaction at seeing flames claim the torn pages, Dax smirked. He’d given the three girls twenty dollars each in thanks, and still believed it was money well-spent.
Maggie shuddered. “I’ve tried to block that one from my memory. Every time a kid checks it out of the library, then brings it back with tears in their eyes, I want to ‘lose’ it.”
“Give in. Let the children keep their innocence.” His phone beeped. He glanced at it, tempted to let the call go into voicemail. The name on the caller ID changed his mind. “Hello?”
“Mr. Hunter, it’s Joni Taylor. My car and my office were robbed while I was in the meetings. They took my purse and all of my confidential files.”
He willed himself to stay in human shape. His rage at her words wanted to manifest itself in his form. “Any idea who?”
“Oh, yeah. I have a very good idea who the son of a bitch is. It had to be an inside job.” Her voice was glacial. “Listen. You marked several decoys on the map, and so I’m hoping it will take them a while to find the right one. My son will be here tomorrow morning with some of his friends. I’m hesitant to go out tonight in case someone is watching me. I know it sounds silly --”
“No.” He cut her off. This robbery had all the earmarks of a well-planned crime. Sudden, unplanned change. A feral grin twisted his lips. Getting bitten in the ass by his own chaos energy was as invigorating as it was annoying. He’d get the bastards who dared to threaten the cave, and he’d use the force they generated to do so. “The baskets in the cave are worth a fortune. Stay where you are until you have reinforcements, and I’ll head out tonight.” Hopefully, Maggie would be willing to drop him off at the site before taking the Jeep into town.
“Thank God.” He could hear the relief in her voice. “When I find out -- and I will find out -- who’s behind this, heads will roll.”
“I’ll hold their arms, you wield the axe.” Maybe his sisters would be interested in visiting for a few days. Nothing like a pissed off demon to liven things up.
“You’ve got a deal. Listen, I’ve got to go, Suzie Quinn just got here to take the police report.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Be careful. They’re probably armed.”
Me, too. And I have guns. “Don’t worry, I’ll be very careful.” He ended the call and let the hand holding the phone fall into his lap. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“That was Joni Taylor. Someone broke into her office and car and stole a bunch of stuff, including the map showing the location of the cave, and a memory stick with copies of the pictures we took.”
“Damn it.” Maggie pounded her hand on the steering wheel. “Please tell me you packed food and water.”
That’s my girl. “Yep. I have water and sports drink. I’ve also got jerky, trail mix, and Power Bars.” And a tent and sleeping bag, though he doubted he’d get to use them. He slumped a bit in the seat. He was exhausted. At this point, if he didn’t get some rest soon, he was going to collapse and be of no use to anyone.
“We’ve got, you mean.”
“Excuse me?” Did she mean what he thought she meant? Please, Maggie ...
“I’m going with you.” She gave him a hard look. “This is not negotiable.”
If he hadn’t been belted in, he’d have jumped up and done a dance of happiness. “Cool.” They could take turns keeping watch. Dax hoped they’d also talk and figure out how to strengthen their fragile relationship as well. Something this wonderful deserved to be preserved if at all possible.
Bastards. Maggie was glad Bertha handled so well, because as angry as she was, her driving wasn’t as careful as it probably should have been. How dare they? If Dax didn’t look so steamrollered, she’d pull over and let him drive. Under her hands, the steering wheel vibrated with the low growl of Bertha’s engine. Maggie thought the growl had gotten deeper since Dax’s phone call, but she didn’t ask about it. Some things she just didn’t want to know. At least not right now. Maybe later, when she wasn’t pissed off enough to chew steel and spit nails.
She snuck a quick look over at him. He was drumming his fingers on his thigh. His taut, muscular thigh. Down, girl, this is not the time.
Dax flipped his phone open and dialed. “Jethro? Hey, it’s Dax. Furious. You?” He paused and listened. “That’s good to know. Feel like visiting your old stomping grounds in Eastern Oregon?” Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie could see Dax relax back against the seat as the conversation continued. “Looters. I found the cave I told you about. Way cooler than anything I was expecting. Problem is, the archaeologist just called me. Her office was robbed, and they took a copy of my map.” His left thumb was rubbing against his fingertips. “Oh, I’ll stop them, all right.”
Maggie gulped at the menace in the quiet words.
“Great. Thanks, man. Call me when you get to town, and I’ll give you directions. Bye.” He snapped the phone closed. “My friend Jethro Lake will be here tomorrow around noon to help us guard the site.”
A friend. Was he human or another demon? A tickle of unease skittered up her back. “Is he ... like you?” She couldn’t stop the slight flinch when he rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, not really, and it was time her body got the memo.
His fingers tightened slightly then relaxed. “Not exactly. He’s a fire elemental.”
Maggie’d read enough fantasy novels to have an idea what that meant. And right now, she wasn’t up to asking for clarification. “Oh, okay.” Intelligent response, Mags. Oh, well, he knew she was still a bit shell-shocked.
“His sister worked for my mom’s security company -- she was great at bomb-proofing client’s homes. She was pretty flaky, though, and ended up quitting and abandoning Jethro with us when he was a toddler. Mom and Dad adopted him.”
“That’s so cool.” She wondered if she would ever get a chance to meet his parents. And realized she was looking forward to meeting his adopted brother. A fire elemental raised by demons. Who knew? Maybe he’d know embarrassing stories about Dax’s childhood.
“Yeah, Mom and Dad are pretty great.”
She stopped as Quartz Road
dead-ended at the highway. She turned left, toward Keily, and the road leading north to the Red Queen mine.
Chapter Fourteen
Breathing a sigh of relief at finding no vehicles at the site, Maggie parked the Jeep in the same place as yesterday. It was yesterday, wasn’t it? Yes. Just over twenty-four hours ago she’d thought demons were creatures of myth and horror stories. And Julie was my best friend, and the library and Keily were doomed. She rested her head against the back of the seat.
She was coming to terms with Dax-the-demon, and once the discovery of the cave hit the national news, Keily would have more money than it had ever dreamed of. Hope for the future filled her, and she felt more alive than she had in years. Now, if I can just figure out what to do about Julie. Or at least be able to be in the same room with her without turning into a shrieking harpy.
“Maggie,” Dax said. She looked over at him. “Wait here, and leave the engine running. I’m going to check the cave. If I come out fast, go. I’ll jump in.” He exited the Jeep and stalked toward the boulder that hid the cave entrance.
Her mouth went dry as she watched him walk to the cave. Injured and exhausted, he was still beautiful. And scary. She couldn’t put her finger on it, exactly, but his movements shouted “predator.” Her hands clenched on the steering wheel as he disappeared behind the rock.
“Be okay, be okay, be okay,” she chanted under her breath. Bertha’s engine idled to the rhythm of the chant.
In less than thirt
y seconds, he was back outside. Dax gave her a thumbs-up as he walked back to the Jeep. “No one’s been here.”
Maggie blew out a pent-up breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Phew.” After prying her hands from the steering wheel, she opened the door and stepped out. As she looked around, the sensation that something was wrong niggled at the back of her mind. Missing. That was it, something was missing. But what?
Dax accepted the keys she handed him and used them to unlock the cargo bay. Inside, Maggie saw several canvas bags of various sizes and colors. He grabbed the largish blue one and looked at her. “Have you ever set up a dome tent?”
“Oh, yeah. Usually by myself.” Sometimes, when things got too hectic at work, she would take a day or two and go up into north Keily County, to the Crooked Creek Campground. Huh. It suddenly hit her that she hadn’t been camping in well over a year. The stress and struggle over the library had consumed all her time, and at least one friendship. She wondered if there was anyone else she’d ignored in favor of her own problems. I can’t think of anyone. But I’d better talk to the people I love and make sure.
“Good.” He handed the canvas bag to her. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”
It hit her then. “Bear.”
“What?” He tensed, looking over his shoulder.
Her eyes darted around the area, hoping to see the carcass. “The bear. It’s not here.”
Dax looked blank, then his eyes darted to where fight with the bear had ended. “Powers.” He walked carefully to where the bear had lain, scanning the ground. “It should still be here. I killed it.”
Clutching the bag like a security blanket, Maggie walked beside him. All her attention was focused on the place where the bear had died. She didn’t see any drag marks or other signs the body had been moved. She nearly asked if he could smell anything unusual, but knew he’d tell her if he did.
“Right here.” Dax knelt and brushed his fingertips across the dirt, coming up with a tuft of brown fur.
“It was dead.” She’d heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone when Dax had broken its neck. The bear had gone stiff, then limp, as its life faded away.
“This doesn’t make any sense.” He stood, confusion dominating his expression. “There aren’t any wolves in this area, and even if there were, they couldn’t have dragged the carcass away. Coyotes definitely wouldn’t. Even another bear would have scavenged the body here.”
Maggie clenched her fists tight enough for her nails to dig into her palms. “Are there any, um, supernatural creatures that could have taken it?”
“Several, but none around here. At least, none that I know of.”
Damn. “I was hoping you’d say there wasn’t anything that could do it.” Rubbing the goosebumps from her arms, she repeated, “Really, really hoping.”
“Sorry,” he said, quirking his lips to one side.
A narrow black line near the top of the disturbed boulder caught her attention. “That’s odd.” She walked over to it and ran her finger down the slender crack. “We broke it.”
Dax joined her. “Huh. Guess they just don’t make boulders like they used to.”
* * * * *
While Maggie put the tent up, Dax unpacked the rest of his gear and set up a small camp. The two bright yellow, canvas folding chairs, with the small plastic table between them, went to one side of where the tent would be. That way, they could see the tent, the cave entrance, and Bertha. He debated about building a fire, but decided against it. Conditions in the area were too dry to safely have a fire. And he didn’t want to be visited by firefighters -- or worse -- a plane dropping fire-retardant. Being hit with a load of bright red, slimy, fire-retardant slurry was no fun. And the stains were damn near impossible to get out of denim.
Besides, the evenings were still warm, and they didn’t have anything to cook. Well, except for his stash of chocolate marshmallows, but those could wait for a happier occasion. Last, he went to the hidden compartment in the trunk and removed his shotgun and holstered revolver. The revolver went into the canvas pocket hanging on the back of his chair. Extra shells for both guns went into the pocket on the other chair.
“Hah,” Maggie said, stepping back to admire the blue dome she’d created.
“Congratulations,” he said dryly. “It’s a tent.”
As she stuck her tongue out at him, he felt his cock harden. Talking her to orgasm earlier had been amazing, and he wanted to do all the things he’d described. Powers, he wanted to do those things. He started to leak pre-come just thinking about it. He gingerly shrugged his injured shoulder, biting back a cry of pain as the movement sent a searing bolt of pain through him. Looking regretfully down at the bulge in his crotch, he muttered, “Sorry, fella. I don’t think anything’s going to happen tonight.”
“I don’t see why not.” Maggie stood beside him. She glanced at the shotgun, but didn’t make any comment. “We’ll hear anyone who drives up, and I can get dressed quickly when I’m motivated.” Her gaze went to his shoulder. “Unless your wound is bothering you too much.”
“Right now, it is.” He sat in one of the low canvas chairs. Sometimes it’s good to be short. It made getting into and out of the chairs and the tent much easier. His friend Jethro, who was just over six feet tall, had a heck of a time folding himself into the chairs with any grace.
Now that they were here and there was absolutely nothing more that had to be done, Dax let his tired body relax.
“Stay put,” Maggie said, ruffling his hair. “I’ll get everything situated, then we’ll take a look at your shoulder.”
“If I didn’t feel so rotten, I’d protest.” The pain from his wound ratcheted from dull to excruciating as the last of the sexual energy -- and the dregs of his adrenaline -- wore off.
“Eat something.” She pressed a bag of peppered jerky into his hands and nestled a bottle of sports drink between his thighs. “Protein and electrolytes will make you feel better.”
“Thanks.” He pulled a piece of jerky from the bag and took a bite, savoring the flavor of the raw, peppered meat. I wish I had the energy to hunt. Some hot, bloody rabbit would be wonderful right about now.
Maggie moved efficiently around the camp, inflating the air mattress and placing it in the tent with a minimum of fuss. She carried the sleeping bag in next, and then both backpacks. Finally, when everything was arranged, she settled into the other chair with a blueberry cereal bar and a bottle of iced tea she’d pulled from her backpack. “The last of my lunch. Want half?” She offered the bar to him.
“No thanks.” Blueberries gave him horrible indigestion, and they would be sharing a small tent. He looked down at the package of jerky, and was surprised to find it empty.
Maggie giggled. “Hungrier than you thought you were?” She nodded at the table between them. “There’s another package of jerky, a Power Bar, and some of the trail mix.”
He’d been so out of it he hadn’t seen her put the food on the table. I’m going to be worthless if it comes to a fight. Dax reached for the power bar, groaning as stiff muscles complained. “I’m going to eat this, then crash for a while.” He ripped the wrapper open and devoured the peanut butter flavored bar in two bites. After a few deep swigs of sports drink, he sighed his contentment.
“That good?” Maggie said, a grin on her face.
“Yep.” He levered himself up out of the chair, his shoulder protesting each movement.
“We should check your shoulder.”
Dax scrubbed his hand through his hair. “It’s going to have to wait until I’ve gotten some rest. If I sit down again, I’m not going to be able to stand.” He leaned down just enough to press a kiss on the top of her head. “Wake me up immediately if you hear or see anything hinky. Otherwise, let me sleep until you need me to take over the watch.”
He started to offer her the gun, then hesitated. “Can you use one of these?”
“Oh, yeah. I learned to shoot in the eighth grade, during a mandatory hunter’s safet
y class. In a small town like this, most kids learn to hunt fairly young. I enjoy target shooting, so I’ve kept in practice.”
Relieved, he handed her the shotgun, smiling when she took it easily, cracking it open to make sure it was loaded. “Aren’t people afraid their kids will mess with the guns?”
“No. Around here, guns are seen as just another tool, like a shovel or a wrench. We’ve only had one incident in the past ten years, and it happened to a family that had just moved here from southern California. It was horrible. A seven year-old boy was killed while playing with his father’s gun. His nine year-old brother pulled the trigger. The two boys had never seen a real gun, and thought the pistol was a toy. The family moved away shortly after it happened.”
Dax shook his head, frowning. “That’s awful. Those poor people.”
“Yeah.”
There was a moment of silence. “So,” Maggie said. “You need to get some rest. I’ll take care of things out here.
“Extra shells in the pocket.” A touch to the back of the chair showed her the location. “I’m going to take the revolver and shells into the tent with me.”
“Sleep well.”
He nodded and crawled into the tent -- no mean feat with only one good arm. After double-checking the safety, he put his gun in the special pocket in his backpack.
The sight of the sleeping bag made him smile. Maggie had positioned it on the air mattress with the lower end toward the tent opening. The top had been unzipped just enough to fold down, exposing the gray and black flannel lining. It was cozy and welcoming, and he wished he could invite her in to share it with him. He considered removing his boots, but decided against it in case there was a confrontation. Stretching out on top of the sleeping bag, he rested his head against the pillow and fell immediately asleep.
Define hinky. Maggie finished her cereal bar and tucked the wrapper into the bag she’d attached to the side of her chair for garbage. She’d lock the trash and all the food in Bertha’s trunk after she finished eating. Oddly enough, she hadn’t seen any animals or even any insects in the entire time they’d been here. Except for the bear. A shudder of remembered fear made the short hairs on her arms stand at attention. She stroked the shotgun’s stock. It was a beautiful gun and had obviously been well cared for. The walnut stock shone in the fading sunlight, and the barrel gleamed.
