Midnight's Captive (Dark Warriors)

by Donna Grant

  He reached for his mobile phone and dialed a number. There was a muffled hello on the fourth ring.

  “Is everything in place?” he asked.

  The man on the other end of the phone grunted. “Oh, aye. The wench is almost too easy.”

  “I wouldna say that. You’ve no’ even managed to get her to agree to go to dinner with you, Ben.”

  “Oh, doona worry. She’ll be yours to do with verra soon, Wallace. I’ve given my word.”

  Jason squeezed the phone. “And I’ve given mine. If you fail, your life is forfeit.”

  “I willna fail,” Ben declared.

  Jason ended the call and looked out over the kitchen sink to the long drive overgrown with low-hanging trees limbs in desperate need of trimming. Any moment, Dale, his only remaining Warrior, would return with Mindy.

  Mindy would be furious she’d been left behind, but she had to know getting out had been his only priority. It was up to everyone else to find him. Just because they were lovers didn’t afford her special privileges.

  Mindy was a hellion in bed. Her white thighs would part for him with just a smile as she waited for him to tell her how he wanted her and when she could come. As fun as she was to fuck, it was her propensity for evil that drove him wild.

  As he watched, a small dark green car came into view. A moment later it parked and Mindy bounded out of the car, shouting Jason’s name.

  He turned to the door as it was thrown open. Mindy’s eyes glared daggers at him, and her lips—coated with her usual red lipstick—were flattened in fury.

  “You left me,” she stated.

  “You didna keep up.”

  “I could’ve been killed.”

  He leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and shrugged. “Aye. But you were no’. You’re alive.”

  She took a step toward him, and her feet faltered when she caught sight of his face. The anger drained away, replaced by concern with a hint of disgust. “What happened?”

  “The damned Warriors happened. Arran, point in fact.”

  Mindy closed the distance between them and put her hands on his chest as she gazed up at him adoringly. “Have you tried to heal yourself.”

  “Aye. Nothing works.”

  “We’ll kill Arran together, and then we’ll take his woman and make her suffer. No one harms you. No one.”

  Jason pulled her into his arms and smiled.

  * * *

  Laura rolled her head from side to side to stretch out the tight muscles from sitting at the computer all day. She saved her current spreadsheet after entering in the week’s total sales before pulling open another document to place an order for the alcohol they were running low on.

  Four orders later, she glanced at the clock to see it was half past six. Charon still hadn’t returned.

  She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and clicked her e-mail instead of leaving. Upon seeing a message from Dreagan Industries, she quickly opened it.

  Dreagan had the best scotch in all of Scotland, but they were choosy about who they allowed to sell their liquor. She had been writing them for over a year now proving how well Charon’s business was doing and why the sale of Dreagan scotch would be a boon for both of them.

  So far they hadn’t bothered to answer. So why the sudden response now?

  Laura was too excited to care. She opened the message and hastily scanned it. When she didn’t see a refusal, she paused and read the message more slowly.

  “Good,” she said as she leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. “I’ve finally got some great news for Charon.”

  Laura looked behind her to the deck where the shirt she’d set out and the tea—replaced three times already—still sat untouched.

  Charon had to be deeply bothered to stay away from work so long. He rarely left, and when he did, it was usually for something important.

  Though he kept his whereabouts a secret from her, if she called him, he always answered the phone. Except for this last time. She’d called to let him know there had been a brawl in the club with several broken windows.

  When he hadn’t answered, she’d grown concerned. When he didn’t return her call, she had almost phoned Scotland Yard. Charon always kept in touch with her.

  Always.

  She hadn’t realized how worried she was until she looked out the window that morning and saw his car. The brief glimpse she got of him had been enough to know something wasn’t right. Was it regarding the business or personal? She didn’t know.

  At least when he returned she could tell him the news about Dreagan. The fact they wanted a meeting could only mean great things. Their first hurdle was over with. Now, all Charon had to do was charm them as he did everyone, and the deal would be sealed.

  Laura rose from her chair and walked to the row upon row of CDs lining the far wall. Charon’s offices weren’t like most employers’. Few people ever had the opportunity to come upstairs, and when they did, they were treated to a spectacular sight.

  The office was an extension of Charon. The floors were a dark wood, the walls painted a soft, muted gray. There were highly prized—and coveted—swords and shields dating back to the fourteenth through seventeenth centuries. A vase from eighteenth-century China, paintings from British artists during the nineteenth century, and other highly prized items.

  Mixed with the historical items were photos of Scotland in varying sizes around the room. The rugs, drawing in the various shades of green, bronze, burgundy, and navy only helped to accentuate the warm feel of the room.

  There was a cream-colored leather couch sitting near the hearth but facing the windows looking out over the forest. Charon sat there often, sipping on his favorite scotch, Dreagan.

  Laura’s desk was situated in a corner so she could see anyone coming up the stairs. The way her desk was arranged, it also prevented anyone from peering into Charon’s office unless she allowed the visitor.

  She looked at the closed door to Charon’s office. The door was the same color wood as the floor and moldings. It was one area she rarely ventured into when he wasn’t there.

  He’d never told her she wasn’t allowed, but just like the rooms above used for his residence, they were private. And she kept them that way. It just seemed wrong to venture into the places that were his when all it made her do was think of how it would feel if he would look at her with desire, as he did other women.

  Laura looked back at the rows of CDs and let her gaze wander the titles. Charon had eclectic tastes. He loved hard rock, classical, soft rock, rap, and everything in between.

  Last night she listened to Beethoven, and she was in the mood for something faster, something she could jam to while filing the mound of papers on her desk.

  With a smile, she pulled out Whitesnake’s Greatest Hits and put the CD in the player. In seconds, the riffs of “Still of the Night” filled the room.

  She kicked off her heels and sang as she picked up the stack of papers and walked to the filing cabinet behind her desk.

  * * *

  Charon watched the sun make its way across the sky. The bright ball of light turning from yellow to a huge orange sphere as it sank into the horizon, casting the clouds to shades of tangerine and lavender.

  Even as the darkness began to descend, he wasn’t concerned about finding his way back. He knew the lay of the land like the back of his hand, and the god within him allowed him to see in the night as easily as he saw by day.

  He wasn’t ready to leave the peace of the woods. It was stunning during the day, but once night fell, a different kind of beauty took hold. There had been many nights he’d slept under the stars, listening to the night.

  Yet he knew the time had come for him to return. Slowly, he stood and after one last look at the valley, turned on his heel to make the trek back to town.

  Before he could see his building, his enhanced hearing picked up the strings of music from the tavern as well as his nightclub next door. There was a third set of music. This one he knew came from his
office.

  Laura loved music, and he had given her access to his collection. Every day she picked something different. He had long ago stopped being surprised by her love of vastly diverse music. It nearly matched his own.

  Her choices also told him how she was feeling on any particular day. There were days when he knew she was troubled by the slow, soulful melodies she chose. Whether she was in a somber mood from missing someone or just lonely, he didn’t know. And never asked.

  He wanted to, and there were times he’d almost looked into her past. But a past was a past. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. The days her green eyes took a faraway look were the hardest for him to keep his distance.

  Charon liked her, but he knew better than to get too close. He’d made that mistake too many times before and watched friends grow old and die. Now, he did everything he could to keep his distance. From everyone.

  She was an enticement he’d sensed the first time he saw her. Still, he’d been unable to turn away from her. The next thing he knew, he was offering her a job. She was dependable, reliable, and so damned pretty there were days it hurt just to look at her.

  He paused as he reached the clearing behind his building. His gaze was drawn upward to the second story, where he heard the unmistakable rhythms and lyrics of Whitesnake.

  Without meaning to, his gaze sought out Laura. She wore a dress of sapphire that hugged her form, outlining every wonderful feminine curve. Her wavy dark hair was pulled away from her face with a Celtic silver clip at the back of her head while the rest of her long locks fell down her back.

  With the chorus starting, she closed her eyes and did a little spin. There was a bright smile pulling at her delectable lips when she opened her eyes.

  He had often found himself wanting to trace her mouth with his finger. With eyesight as sharp as a falcon’s, Charon let himself look at his leisure.

  Laura had the look of nobility about her, as if it were bred into her DNA. She walked with confidence women rarely had. Every move she made, every action she did was done with unconscious elegance.

  Her smile was infectious, her laugh irresistible. She had a stubborn streak he recognized by the way her nose scrunched a heartbeat before she said anything, as if she was debating it.

  But her eyes, her striking pale green eyes, were the windows to her soul. One minute she let him see every emotion, and then the other it as if a wall came down, shutting him out.

  She was stunning, but that wasn’t why he hired her. Her beauty had almost made him turn her way. But then he had seen something in her eyes. Hope.

  And sorrow.

  He’d wanted to know what gave her such sadness, and how she kept a hold of the hope. Instead, he’d learned how intelligent she was. Laura was far too clever to be in such a job. Yet, it was her love of the town that had ultimately gotten her the offer.

  Charon hadn’t regretted it either. Laura worked hard, sometimes too hard. He would have to send her home some days. But no one had ever kept his books, and the accounting, in such impeccable order. Not to mention vendors, other employees, and customers alike melted at the sight of her smile.

  He found himself grinning as she danced across the room to gather more papers only to dance back to the filing cabinet, the swing of her hips drawing his gaze and making his balls tighten in response.

  His hands curled into fists as he imagined walking up behind her and grabbing a hold of her hips as he rocked his aching cock against her.

  “Are you only ever going to just watch her? Or are you going to take her as you want to do?”

  Charon stiffened at the sound of the voice. He’d been so caught up in thinking of Laura, he hadn’t heard Phelan walk up. He hated when Phelan sneaked up on him.

  In his present mood, Phelan deserved the tongue lashing Charon wanted to give. Instead, he kept his gaze on Laura. Even if his mind released his brief fantasy.

  “She’s my secretary.”

  “They’re now called executive assistants,” Phelan said as he came to stand beside him. “And here I thought you were the one more in touch with the times than any Warrior. I’m going to have to rethink things.”

  Charon stuffed his hands in his pockets and fingered the X90 he couldn’t seem to toss away. He cut Phelan a look for his sarcasm. “She’s more than that. She does the work of three employees.”

  “And why have you no’ taken her to your bed? It’s obvious by the way you watch her that you want her.”

  “I doona mix business with pleasure,” Charon said and looked away from Laura.

  There was a pregnant pause before Phelan said, “You have no’ changed your shirt.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Charon said sarcastically.

  When he started to walk away, Phelan’s hand clamped on his shoulder, stopping him.

  “Are you no’ all right?” Phelan asked as he peered into his face. “Does it still hurt?”

  “You mean do I still feel the drough blood inside me?” Aye. “Nay.”

  Phelan visibly relaxed as he dropped his arm to his side. “You had me worried for a minute. Why have you no’ changed?”

  “I had some thinking to do.”

  “Aye. That’s why I’m here. This battle with Jason, it was…”

  “Different?” Charon supplied when Phelan paused.

  Phelan nodded. “He was prepared for us. Better prepared than Deirdre or Declan ever was.”

  “I know.” Charon ran a hand through his hair. “Deirdre knew us the best. She knew each of us individually because she watched us in that hellhole of a mountain. Some better than others.”

  Phelan snorted. “You mean me, because she kept me chained from the time I was a lad? Or because she drank my blood every day after I became a Warrior?”

  “Both.”

  Charon knew Phelan hated to speak of his time in Cairn Toul Mountain, and rarely did. But there had to be a reason for Jason Wallace to know so much about them.

  “Aye,” Phelan said and walked a short distance away before turning back to Charon. “It was as if Jason knew exactly how we would attack. Could Ronnie have told them?”

  Ronnie, also known as Dr. Veronica Reid, had fallen in love with Arran, another Warrior. As a Druid, Ronnie’s magic allowed her to find magical items in the ground. Which made her a very popular archeologist.

  “Nay. I doona believe it was Ronnie. She might know Arran, but she had no idea of how we would attack. Besides, I drove her from Edinburgh to her dig site after that first attack. She wouldna betray Arran in any way. She loves him.”

  “Then how?” Phelan asked and threw up his arms in frustration.

  “Another Seer, perhaps?”

  It was a shot in the dark, especially since the Seer they had at MacLeod Castle, Saffron, was the first in ages.

  Phelan shook his head. “Nay. He knew us. Knew things only someone who had spent time with us would know.”

  “There’s no way. We were with the other Warriors and Druids after Declan was killed. We went through every book in that mansion and destroyed it. There is no possible way for him to know anything.”

  “Yet he does. He no’ only knows us, but he knows black magic. In order for him to become drough, there has to be a ceremony. Someone had to know the ceremony. Which means we missed something.”

  The music coming from his office changed to a relaxed, sensuous beat as Whitesnake began belting out “Slow an’ Easy.”

  “I know Gwynn already did a background check on Jason through the computer.” Charon rubbed his chin. “But I think I’m going to do my own digging into Jason Wallace’s past. Maybe we’ll find something.”

  For the first time that evening there was a ghost of a grin on Phelan’s face. “Just what I wanted to hear. Shall I return tomorrow?”

  “Give me a couple of days. Where are you going?”

  “No’ far. I’ll be around,” he said and vanished into the trees.

  Whereas Charon had set up a home in Ferness, Phelan was forever wanderin
g. Everything he owned was in a small bag on the back of his Ducati motorcycle.

  Charon rubbed his hand over his chest. The wound might be gone, but he couldn’t stop remembering the feel of the blade inside him or the drough blood methodically shutting down his organs.

  He hadn’t spoken of it to Sonya after she healed him. Mainly because he hadn’t been the only one injured, but more importantly, because no one else had said they continued to feel the poisonous blood once Sonya had worked her healing magic.

  Charon hoped it was only because he’d had the drough blood inside him for so long, and not because there was something different about him.

  He started up the stairs leading to the deck outside his office. Just as he reached the top step, he spotted the shirt.

  Hesitantly, he put his hand on the plain black tee. Without a doubt, he knew it had been Laura who put it there. Had she seen him? Was that how she knew his shirt was ruined?

  Charon picked up the shirt and turned to where a carafe sat on the table. Steam still drifted through the space in the lid. He bent to retrieve it, and found his gaze locked on Laura.

  Her eyes were closed as she swayed enticingly to the music. He had wanted her from the first moment she walked into the pub and asked him for a pint of ale.

  He figured with her English accent she was just a tourist passing through as everyone did, but when she asked for his help in locating a room, he knew she saw the beauty of the town as he did.

  The next day, he learned she was looking for work. Two years later, and Charon still didn’t know what had brought her to Ferness.

  She didn’t pry into his life, and he didn’t pry into hers. Even though he was insanely curious at times. Especially when she would look at a locket she kept in her purse.

  Suddenly, Laura stopped and opened her eyes. Their gazes clashed, and as always, Charon found himself arrested by the pale green orbs that stared at him.

  It was a good thing she wasn’t a Druid or Charon might give in to his desires. With every Warrior at MacLeod Castle finding their mates with Druids, it was difficult not to think about doing the same.

  But he was better off alone. Not to mention, no matter how hard he tried to feel any kind of magic around Laura, there was none.