The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set

by J. E. Taylor

  The Windwalker stumbled back but the knife cross-slashed, tearing into Tom’s chest and Tom let out a yell and spun away. He kept fighting even with his blood splattering slash after slash. Panic started to embed itself in his head, making him sluggish.

  The only thing that kept him moving and defending against the Windwalker’s death blows was Raven, and the thought of what this bastard would do to her if he fell.

  Chapter 46

  “The prosecution calls C. J. Ryan to the stand.”

  CJ stood, meeting Steve’s glance as he walked by. Just tell the truth, that’s all I ask, Steve’s voice echoed in CJ’s head and he nodded.

  His nerves went into overdrive, sending tingles through his arms to his fingertips, and he closed his fists to keep it from manifesting in a shake. The walk to the witness chair seemed longer than the length of a football field, even though it was only thirty paces from his chair to the stand.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you God,” the bailiff said.

  CJ leaned forward, “I do.” His voice echoed through the chamber.

  “State your name and age for the record,” the prosecutor said and wiped a stray hair from her face.

  “Christopher James Ryan. I’ll be eighteen next month.”

  “Mr. Ryan, can you tell the court about the first time you met Special Agent Williams?”

  CJ met Steve’s gaze and nodded. “He came to the house to inform my parents of my brother’s death.”

  “Did you overhear the conversation?”

  CJ glared at the prosecutor, pressing his lips together.

  “Mr. Ryan, please answer the question.”

  “Yes.”

  “And can you tell us what transpired?”

  “He told my parents that Eric died.”

  “What else did he say?”

  CJ glared at Cleary and the sense of betrayal increased. He pretended to be Steve’s ally, and he was the farthest thing from it. The information he divulged in their conversation was now in the prosecutor’s hands. That’s why he sat here testifying against the man who had stepped in and raised him like a father. Frustration increased as he glanced at the jury box, hearing their derogatory thoughts aimed in Steve’s direction.

  He was the last prosecution witness and they were hoping to seal Steve’s fate with CJ’s testimony. A burning anger ignited in his belly and he shifted in the seat, unwilling to answer any question that would play into their hands.

  “Tell them what I said, CJ,” Steve said from the defense table.

  The prosecutor sent a glare in Steve’s direction.

  “You will refrain from speaking to the witness until your cross examination,” the judge scolded and turned to CJ. “Answer the question, son.”

  CJ’s jaw tightened at the familiar term spoken by the stranger ruling over the court. “He said he knew who my father was.”

  “And who exactly was your father?”

  CJ dropped his gaze to the floor. “My father was Ty Aris,” he whispered and shame heated his cheeks. Admitting the world-renowned criminal was his father was harder than he imagined. He took a deep breath, willing himself to meet the prosecutor’s gaze.

  “Are you aware of what your father did?”

  CJ nodded, hating the pretty blonde in the sharp suit more with every question she delivered.

  “Please state your answer for the court.”

  “Yes,” he said and glanced at the darkening windows. Dusk settled over the east coast and he wondered if they would finish with him today.

  “Did you know at that time?”

  “No. I just knew he had done some bad things before he met my mom.”

  “What else did Special Agent Williams say?”

  “He said he should haul my father in, but unfortunately he made a promise to my brother on his deathbed,” he said, sending a derisive glare in Cleary’s direction. That particular fact wasn’t disclosed to the prosecution and her lips thinned.

  A couple of the jury members reacted with raised eyebrows. Their focus on a man only out for himself just shifted, but CJ sensed it wasn’t enough for them to acquit.

  The next question was drown out by Tom’s panicked call echoing in his head and he winced, trading a glance with Steve as “Jesus Christ,” slipped from his mouth and his hands shot to his ears in reaction.

  Steve’s gaze was sharp one second, and then gone the next and CJ knew his spirit transitioned to their house in Maine.

  His body trembled and his gaze bounced around the courthouse, looking for anything to concentrate on, anything to divert his mind from the terror in his brother’s tone. The word he cried carving a painful gash in his chest, restricting his breathing and his gaze found Sarah in the back of the courtroom.

  “Windwalker,” he whispered, staring at her, he silently pleaded for understanding and her eyes widened, her gaze switching to Steve’s body, now in suspended animation waiting for his soul to return.

  “Mr. Ryan!” the prosecutor said and her tone sharp enough to cut through the panic.

  “What?” CJ snapped focusing on her.

  “Did Agent Williams force your father to help him in exchange for his freedom?”

  “No. My father offered to help. That bastard killed my brother and my father wasn’t going to let that go and Steve really wasn’t in the condition to figure out the quickest way to nail Winslow.”

  The sparkle in the prosecutor’s eyes caught CJ off guard.

  “So you’re saying Agent Williams wasn’t in the right mind to make a clear and concise decision?”

  CJ now understood where they were going and shook his head. “You don’t have a clue of what that man has done for my family, do you?” He leaned forward, challenging her to ask one more inane question.

  “Why don’t you tell us?” she asked, leaning against the prosecutor’s table, her mind working the angle in a way that left his mouth bitter.

  His gaze flicked to Steve sitting there like an unanimated corpse and for the first time eyes in the courtroom followed. CJ’s heart lurched because anyone taking a close look at him would assume he was either catatonic or dead.

  CJ scrambled, his mind clawing at emptiness and he glanced at the jury box, hearing the first of the shocked gasps.

  “He’s fine,” he said, drawing their gazes back. “He stepped out a moment but he’ll be back.” He prayed he was right because if he didn’t come back, that meant CJ was now all alone in the world and that scared the daylights out of him. He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and it burned all the way down to his already roiling stomach.

  The prosecutor’s head whipped around toward Steve, she dropped her pad on the table, and headed in his direction.

  “I said he is fine,” CJ’s voice boomed, shocking her still. “You jackasses left my brother and Jennifer alone at the house without protection,” he snarled letting the panic and fear morph into anger.

  “The FBI assigned an agent to keep an eye on the house,” the prosecutor said.

  “Then he’s either incompetent or dead because the Windwalker is there right now,” his voice cracked and he dropped his chin to his chest, reining in his temper.

  “How could you possibly know that?” she asked.

  “Because I’m just as special as Steve is and that’s why my father made him my guardian,” he said, unwilling for Steve to take the fall to protect him.

  “What do you mean?” the judge asked.

  “Steve has a unique set of skills and his boss knows enough about them to make this entire court preceding a joke.”

  The prosecutor resumed crossing the room toward Steve and the bailiff followed.

  CJ jumped to his feet. “Don’t touch him!” he said and the command in his voice loud enough to draw everyone’s attention.

  Both the prosecutor and the bailiff gave Steve a glance and then went back to their posts.

  CJ looked at the gallery and then the jurors. “My father knew what was coming and he pr
epared for it. He knew his time was up and he chose to work with Steve to help catch Winslow instead of dying at home. He chose Steve to look after us because he knew my mother’s time was coming too. He just didn’t know the particulars. If he had there’d be no way he would have let Steve take us to Georgia.”

  “This is hearsay, your honor,” the prosecutor said and then glared at CJ. “And how exactly would your dead father be able to stop him anyway?” She pointed toward Steve.

  “My father is Steve’s guardian angel.”

  Silence filled the courtroom.

  The prosecutor’s jaw hung open along with most of the attendees and everyone in the jury box. She blinked and traded a glance with the judge.

  “I’m not mentally ill, so don’t even go down that path,” CJ said and her gaze jumped back to his. “Yes, I am a mind reader,” he added when that thought crossed her mind.

  “You also have a genius IQ,” she said, her features hardening at what she deemed a lucky guess.

  “Yes, I’m one of the smartest kids on earth. What’s your point?”

  “You’re smart enough to make up this charade to get Agent Williams off. I bet he put you up to this,” she said.

  CJ smiled and refrained from saying the derogatory comment that filled his mouth, pressing his lips closed. He inhaled and stared her down.

  “Don’t you need proof to make silly accusations like that?” he asked and turned to the judge. “I believe if Steve were in the room, he would be objecting to this line of questioning.”

  “Mr. Ryan, answer the question.”

  They were stonewalling, and he knew it. There was nothing he could say or do to exonerate Steve and he lost it. “Are you even listening?”

  “Son, pipe down or I will hold you in contempt of court,” the judge said.

  CJ glared at him. “I am not your son.”

  “Permission to treat Mr. Ryan as a hostile witness?”

  “Permission granted,” the judge replied.

  “Did Agent Williams put you up to this?”

  CJ glared at her. “No, he expects me to tell the truth and I am.”

  “The truth?” she said and burst out laughing.

  CJ clenched his fists, fury filling him at the thoughts of everyone in the courtroom, including the judge and tears of frustration filled his eyes. They were hell bent on putting Steve away and he hadn’t offered much in the way of a defense. He needed to do something drastic, whether he wanted to or not, and he knew there was only one person who could stop him. He let some of the anger seep out, shaking the foundation of the courthouse.

  “I swear to God, Dad, if you don’t get your ass down here and tell them what I’m saying is the truth, I’ll level this entire place,” he bellowed at the heavens.

  Shock filtered through the room and before anyone could react, a wild wind filled the court followed by the sound of beating wings.

  Chapter 47

  Steve’s chest hurt as the pull of Tom’s psychic signature brought him into the family room of their house, fear crushing his ability to breathe. The word Tom mentally belted out only meant one thing and he prayed he wasn’t too late.

  The first thing that struck him was the amount of blood splatter and his heart stopped when his gaze landed on bare feet sticking out from behind the couch. He moved toward her manicured toes and everything else around him dissolved into the panic he felt the last time she laid unconscious with this much blood surrounding them.

  “Jennifer!” The bellow filled the room and a crash upstairs followed. He bent, checking for a pulse and his legs gave out from under him, the relief completely draining all strength from his body for a moment. He rolled her over, ignoring the number of defensive wounds covering her arms, face, neck and chest. While her eyes weren’t focused, and her chest barely moved, life still existed and that’s all he needed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead, sending a hefty dose of healing mojo through her. Even as she stiffened and drew in a painful breath, he stood, bolting upstairs and letting the healing power do its work.

  Another crash pushed him faster and he rounded the corner in time to see shattered glass glimmering on the hallway floor along with clear liquid and red and blue specs of confetti. He slid to a stop in the remnants of Tom’s Patriots snow globe, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath coming in short bursts from both the mental and physical exertion.

  Nothing prepared him for the sight inside Tom’s room.

  A hulk of a man circled with Tom, his face a hideous mask of anger, traversed by scars and with a nose that had been broken several times. In his hand, he brandished a blade slick with gore. From the amount of blood dripping from Tom’s elbows, Steve could only guess how badly cut he was, but at least he was still standing and fighting.

  But it wasn’t the Windwalker that sent a chilling shiver down his spine, it was the sight of Raven unconscious on the floor and the words carved into her back.

  Tanya’s faceless ghost screamed like a wild animal. She pushed herself up from the floor and ran toward the Windwalker, passing right through him and falling again. Her frustration filled the room drowning out Tom’s panting.

  “I won’t let you hurt her again,” Tom breathed, ignoring the lunatic ranting of Tanya’s ghost.

  “I’m going to save you for when she’s awake and can see my handiwork. I want her to watch you scream in agony as I rip your face off,” he snarled and slashed out. Tom parried, blocking the blade and taking another deep cut to the forearm.

  “I don’t think so,” Steve said from the hallway and the Windwalker’s gaze flicked from Tom’s face to Steve’s directly beyond Tom’s shoulder. His eyes widened.

  That was all Steve needed. Anger erupted in a blast that knocked the Windwalker through the wall and onto the concrete patio below. Tanya’s ghost followed leaving a sudden silence that rang in Steve’s ears.

  Tom turned. “I didn’t think you’d make it in time,” he said and stumbled, his eyes rolling up into his head as he passed out. Steve caught him and assessed the damage. Tom’s forearms looked like someone played a thousand games of tick-tack-toe across the skin and his shirt didn’t look much better, however, the amount of blood soaking the fabric was a fraction of what ran from his arms.

  “Jesus, Tom,” he whispered and wiped away the hair from his forehead. With another surge of energy, he pushed a jolt of healing power into Tom, taking a minute to watch the sparkles encompass his body and the wince suck through his teeth as the pain bit into him.

  He stood and stepped to the open hole in the wall, glaring down at the twisted form of the Windwalker. Steve turned, giving Tom a quick glance before focusing on Raven. He checked her pulse and it beat strong against his fingertips. Her eyes fluttered open for a minute before rolling back and he leaned forward, sending just enough juice to cure her head, but not enough to wipe out the carvings in her skin.

  He stood and turned, heading toward the stairwell. He stopped in his bedroom and retrieved the extra pair of handcuffs he owned and navigated the stairs more cautiously this time, trying not to disrupt any evidence. The sight of Jennifer’s unmarred skin prompted a breath of relief and he guessed it would be at least an hour before she woke.

  With his heart returning to normal, he stepped in front of the sliding doors that led out back and froze with his hand on the door handle. The Windwalker was gone, but a streak of blood across the patio and onto the footpath pointed the direction the bastard went.

  “Shit,” he breathed and swung the door open; barreling around the rock wall in a sprint, he caught up to the crawling criminal. With a guttural roar, he grabbed the thick black hair and yanked, marching back to the patio, dragging the Windwalker along with him.

  Blind anger and murderous rage racked his body as pictures of the condition this bastard left his victims in flashed across his mind, making him oblivious to the wild slashes the man executed against his legs. Pain was so far removed that he didn’t notice the repeated stabs into his outer t
high until he stood before one of the patio’s concrete columns.

  He caught the Windwalker’s wrist before the knife plunged into his flesh again and he growled; using so much torque that he nearly twisted the wrist backwards, all the bones shattered with the motion. The knife clattered to the ground.

  The Windwalker screamed, and kept yelling like a banshee while Steve handcuffed him to the concrete, making sure the cuffs were uncomfortably tight before he stepped around in front of the psycho.

  “I got you, you twisted fuck,” he breathed and punched him, breaking his nose again and snapping his head back hard enough against the concrete to knock him unconscious. He glanced up at the hole in Tom’s wall wondering just how that was going to be explained, but he didn’t care right now.

  He’d caught the Windwalker and he wanted the world to know.

  Inside, he scooped up the phone and dialed nine-one-one. “This is Special Agent Steve Williams and I’m calling from my house at 15 Roaring Sound. Tell O’Keefe the Windwalker is handcuffed to a column on my patio and he’s to get his ass to my house right now.”

  “Agent Williams?”

  “Yes.”

  “We thought you were in Washington,” the police operator said.

  “I am, now get someone to my house right now,” he said and set the phone on the counter just before the transition took hold.

  Chapter 48

  Blinking, awareness filtered in and Steve inhaled against the sharp pain in his right leg. He ran a hand over the fabric of his suit pant and it came away tacky with blood. “Shit,” he muttered and looked up at the courtroom. Mouths moved but sound still remained muffled and all eyes were wide and looking at the balcony in the back of the courtroom.

  Steve turned and shock filtered through him, stunning him enough so the pain disappeared. Ty Ryan stood on the balcony, his wings spread in all their majesty.

  He dropped his gaze to the witness stand and CJ standing with his fists clenched and a stance he recognized as barely contained fury.