by Lisa Kessler
He didn’t release his grip on her door. “In a very short amount of time, I have done my best to accept that I don’t have skin cancer or a brain tumor. I’m trying to wrap my head around the facts that sometimes I get visions and I’m supposed to be a Guardian chosen by gods. You’ve got to meet me halfway.”
Mel faced forward. If she kept looking into his eyes, it would be too hard to remember this was the same guy who’d slept with her and then tried to walk away. She’d been cavalier thinking she could keep her emotional distance, but the days of his silence made it clear…This was too risky, even for her. It would hurt too much when he left for good.
“I’m sorry. There’s no halfway here.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and risked lifting her gaze. “I’m saving myself.”
He knelt down, eye level with her, his hand still on the door. “Bullshit.”
She raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
He shook his head slowly. “This isn’t you. This is that voice in your head telling you the worst-case scenario.”
“You told me you can’t give me what I need…”
“Right now. Tonight.” His eyes searched hers. “Mel, I think about you all the time. I want to spend more time with you, I just…” He stared at the lunch tables and benches in the school’s courtyard. “I’m going to screw up. This is all new to me.” He sighed, looking her way again. “I need time. Give me that.”
“And I need you to talk to me.”
The corner of his lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “I think I am.”
Her heart fluttered. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Mel rested her head back against the seat. “For not letting me drive away.” She glanced his way. “I may have overreacted a little.”
“It was a little tragic.”
Laughter bubbled up as she rolled her eyes. “You think?” She sighed. “For a guy who doesn’t believe in relationships, trying to date the Muse of Tragic Poetry is pretty fraught with peril.”
He leaned in and kissed her, long and slow. “I can handle some peril.”
Her pulse raced. Damn, the man could kiss.
Nate’s partner stepped into the lunch area. She nodded in his direction. “Good thing. Looks like some is headed your way.”
Nate looked over his shoulder. “Aw shit. I’ll call you later?”
“I’d like that.” She chuckled and drove away with a smile on her face.
The police were getting too close. Time to tie up some loose ends. He pulled onto the dead-end street and turned off his lights. Outside of the last house, he double-checked the address. Satisfied he had the right one, he tugged on his black leather gloves and picked up the golden mask, drinking in the power and purpose in its soulless black eyes.
Every war had casualties and every goal had obstacles. Dan Barlow, the dockworker he’d paid off, had just landed squarely into the obstacles category.
He scanned the street, studying every car. On the corner by the cross street was a white Ford sedan. Shit. He laid the mask on the passenger seat and started the engine.
As he drove by, his suspicion was confirmed. A man sat on the driver’s side, distracted by a laptop. The dockworker must’ve talked to the detectives. How much had he told them?
Ben turned down the next block. His mission was still attainable, but he’d have to go on foot and enter through the back. He parked the Honda Accord and put the mask over his head. Each time he bore the likeness of Kronos, his confidence in his mission grew.
This was just another step toward the return of the Golden Age of Man. His name would be remembered for generations. Immortality.
He found a house without a fenced-in yard and quietly passed through. Dan Barlow’s six-foot chain-link fence slowed him for a moment. He would need a quick retreat. Climbing the fence could leave him vulnerable if he needed to exit in a hurry. Damn.
After a trip back to the car, he returned with wire cutters. He snipped an opening in the fence and silently slid though. Up the back steps, he peered through the window in the back door. No sign of a dog or a kibble bowl on the kitchen floor.
He lifted his robe to slide the clippers into his pocket and take out the wire garrote. Pulling it tight, he drank in the rush of adrenaline. He released one side and reached for the doorknob.
Unlocked. He smiled behind the mask.
With a patient hand, he opened the door, avoiding any creaking. He stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. The knob squeaked, and he froze, holding his breath.
From the other room, Mr. Barlow called out. “I thought you went to bed!”
Sweat beaded on his brow. He didn’t move.
“Meredith?”
He waited, but no footsteps sounded. Finally, he ventured farther into the house. Mr. Barlow sat in an easy chair in front of his television, remote in hand as the channels flipped by.
Creeping closer, the Enforcer pulled the wire tighter. The reflection of the gold mask covered the television screen.
“What the hell?”
Without hesitation, he lunged forward, the garrote catching Dan Barlow under the chin. The dockworker struggled, unable to scream as he tugged the wire, cutting through skin and severing arteries.
The body settled into the chair. He quietly removed the garrote, checking the hallway for any sign of a witness. Reassuring silence surrounded him. He inspected his work to be certain Mr. Barlow would never talk to the police again. Satisfied, he went back out the way he’d come.
Inside the car, he used his robe to wipe the wire clean and took off the mask and gloves.
One more stop.
He drove out of the neighborhood with his headlights off, watching the rearview mirror for the unmarked police car.
Nothing.
His hands slipped on the wheel, slick with sweat, his stomach knotted. Killing the muse had been cleaner. Tonight was messy. Nausea rose each time Mr. Barlow’s blood-soaked shirt entered his mind, but his belief in the cause kept him moving forward.
Six months ago, he was a realtor, hustling for his next sale. He never dreamed he’d become so much more. Some might say he was a murderer, but he wasn’t. Not really. He was a visionary. There was a big difference.
The Order gave him a purpose. They needed him. He could see the big picture, the end result that justified his actions. Empathy stood no chance against his raw determination.
These were not people. They were obstacles.
The end would justify the means. When the Golden Age of Man returned to Earth, the small sacrifices would be forgotten. And his name would live on forever.
He stopped near the edge of the lake and put the Honda Accord in park. After collecting his belongings, he opened the trunk and removed two pieces of a broom handle. He wedged the first between the driver’s seat and the gas pedal. The engine roared. He took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the second wooden dowel.
Now or never.
He hit the gearshift, knocking it into drive. The Honda raced for the lake, down the gravel, and finally off the embankment, launching into the air for a few seconds before it smashed into the water. The engine sputtered as the car succumbed to the black depths. He stood watch, a silent sentinel as the final air bubbles floated to the surface.
With the car gone, he scooped up his things and called Ted Belkin.
“It’s done. Send a car to the picnic area at Cascade Lake.”
He tucked his cell phone in his pocket and made his way toward the tables in the distance. The loose ends were tied.
Melanie Jacoby was next on his list.
Nate stared at the lab results, frustration smoldering. They’d identified the liquid in the canister as concentrated sulfuric acid. The crazy guy in the mask had been planning to attack Mel with acid. He wanted her to suffer before he killed her.
Nate shoved the printouts away. No fingerprints. No trace evidence. No leads.
Except for the guy from the dock—Dan Barlow. “John, did you track down Bar
low yet? We need a physical description of the guy who paid him.”
His partner looked up from his paperwork. “He didn’t return my call. I’ll head over there tomorrow morning. Maybe we can catch him at work.” He paused, tapping his pen against the desk, and gave Nate a warning look. “There’s no evidence that the C-4 at the theater is connected with the attempted attack on Ms. Jacoby.”
“There was a silver car at both place. It can’t be a coincidence. It’s all we’ve got right now.” He rubbed his forehead, avoiding eye contact. “Mel’s involved with the women renovating the theater, and her roommate was, too. It has to be connected. I haven’t found the thread yet, but I will.”
John leaned back in his chair. “She’s under your skin.”
Nate raised his gaze. “I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s tough and tender all at once.” He shook his head slowly. “I like being around her.” He lowered his voice. “Scares the shit out of me.”
John stared at him, and Nate waited for his flippant response. Instead, his partner started to smile. “You really do like this one.” He crossed his arms. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”
“Slow down.” Nate lifted his hand off the desk. “It’s not serious.”
John chuckled. “Like hell it’s not.” He got up. “I know relationships have never been your thing, and I understand being careful, but one day you’ll turn around and find yourself retired and alone, and whatever demons kept you from trusting someone and loving them…” He sighed. “They win. Don’t let the demons win, Malone.”
His partner headed for the door. “I’m going home. You should, too. We’ll meet at the dock at nine tomorrow. We can have a chat with Barlow at work.”
“See you then.”
Nate’s pulse was still elevated even after John had left. It wasn’t that Nate wanted to be alone, but caring about someone long term meant being vulnerable. He’d spent his entire life being strong—for himself, his mother, victims and their families—but locked away in the shadows of his heart, the fear that maybe his father was right always festered.
Deep down, what if he was nothing?
Enough.
He stood, tossing his paperwork in the inbox on his desk and walked out. Without realizing it, he took his phone out and called Mel’s number. It rang a few times and went to voice mail.
“Hey, Mel. I need to talk to you about the lab results from the container we found outside your classroom. Call me back.”
He tucked his phone back in his pocket, but by the time he was inside the car, dread radiated through his shoulders, centralized on the damn birthmark. Was she in danger? His pulse hammered in his ears as he jammed the car in gear and headed over to Callie’s place.
He resisted the urge to put the emergency light on top of his car. Barely.
When he turned onto Lothlórien Lane to find Mel’s car parked at the curb, everything seemed quiet. But the second he got out, his shoulder began to throb. He closed the door as quietly as he could and drew his weapon. These instincts were new, but he was learning to trust them.
He stepped under the cover of a tree. From the shadows, he scanned each vehicle parked on the street.
All empty.
He slid his gun back into his shoulder holster. Maybe paranoia was infecting him. He started to cross the street toward Callie’s house when tires screeched, followed by the sound of scraping metal. He spun around and barely jumped out of the path of a dirt bike. The headlight was off, and the bike skidded on its side on the pavement. The rider jumped free.
“Watch where you’re going, man. I almost hit you.” The guy stalked past Nate to pick up the motorcycle.
He was dressed head to toe in black, including his helmet. Nate pursued him, putting himself in front of the motorcycle. “This isn’t street legal without lights.”
The headlight blazed to life, blinding him for a minute. Nate grabbed the handlebar, and a vision burst behind his eyelids. The guy on the dirt bike was on foot, casing the perimeter around Callie’s place. His helmet was still on, but the visor was up. He raised night-vision binoculars.
And then it was gone. Nate blinked, tightening his grip on the bike. “You need to get off the motorcycle. Now.”
From behind the visor, he said, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Detective Malone.” Nate used his free hand to yank his badge off his belt. He held it up. “Crystal City PD. Get off the bike. I won’t ask again.”
The engine roared to life. The rider let out the throttle and forced Nate to jump out of the way or be run over.
“Fuck.”
Nate ran after him for a few paces, but the taillight faded into the darkness. He didn’t even get a partial plate number. Frustrated, he turned back. If he didn’t start connecting some of the dots in this case soon, he was going to lose his shit.
He knocked on Callie’s door and waited. The door opened, and he looked down to see Mel’s friend smile.
“Good to see you, Detective Malone.”
“You can call me Nate.” He glanced over her—hard not to with their height difference. “Is Mel around?”
She nodded and stepped back to let him pass. “She’s in the shower. Want to come in and wait for her?”
“Thanks.” He came all the way inside and took a seat on the leather sofa in the living room.
“Would you like something to drink?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks. Did you notice anything strange tonight, noises or anything?”
“No.” Callie frowned. “Why?”
He stared at her, wondering how much Mel had told her about him. Did she know he was a Guardian with a bizarre gift? He kept his game face on. “Just curious. After seeing that guy outside Mel’s school last night, I’m a little punchy.”
Callie sat down and crossed her ankles. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.” She smiled. “The gods picked a great Guardian.”
He raised a brow. “Mel told you?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Since we lost Nia, we’ve been circling the wagons. Secrets sink ships.”
“I thought it was loose lips.”
“Is it?” Callie grinned, mischief in her dark eyes. “Either way, I think she’s really fond of you.”
He shifted in his seat a little with the uncomfortable turn in the conversation. “Mel’s pretty amazing.”
“You got that right.” She laced her fingers together, hooking her hands on her knee. “So why did you really ask about hearing anything?”
“Nate?”
He turned to find Mel coming down the hall wrapped in nothing but a towel. For a second, his brain disengaged, his body driving him to distraction.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern in her dark-brown eyes.
He shook it off and struggled to focus. “No. We got the labs back and the stuff he had in the container was concentrated sulfuric acid. Sadly no fingerprints, and I still have no leads on the silver Honda Accord.”
Mel frowned. “You think he was going to attack me with acid?”
She came around and sat beside him. The urge to touch her skin was overwhelming. He ground his teeth together fighting to stay on topic.
“It doesn’t fit, though. He made Nia’s murder look like an accident. Acid would be far from accidental.”
Callie cleared her throat. “Since psychology is my field, maybe I could offer some insight?”
Nate glanced her way. “I’m short on leads. I’m willing to take all the help I can get.”
“Mel mentioned you think he got our names from our LLC, right? What if he figured out which of the muses we represent?”
The surreal strangeness of discussing muses and Guardians with someone other than Mel made it tough not to let nervous laughter interfere.
“Why would knowing which muse you are make any difference?”
“Well…” Her gaze darted between them, her expression intense and somber. “Nia was inspired by the Muse of Astronomy. He shoved her down th
e stairs and left her in darkness. She was all light all the time. What if he knew?”
Mel leaned forward and somehow the towel stayed in place. “So if he knows the Muse of Tragic Poetry is inside me…”
A cold chill ran up Nate’s spine. “Scarring your beauty with acid would be tragic.”
Mel crossed her arms. “I don’t like where this is going.”
Nate’s gaze locked on Callie. “I’m going to need a list of who’s who. Maybe I can get ahead of this guy.”
Mel stood. “I’m going to get dressed.”
Nate caught her hand before she could walk away. “There was a guy on a motorcycle outside. He was trying to ride off without his headlight. When I grabbed his handlebar I saw him walking the perimeter of this house with night-vision binoculars.”
Mel frowned and glanced at Callie. “If he’s after me, I’m putting you at risk by staying here.”
Callie crossed her arms. “I have an alarm. I’ll call the security company tonight and have them install a couple of cameras outside, too.”
Mel sighed. “If you’re not worried, I’ll try not to be, but you know how my head works.”
“Worst-case scenario.” Callie straightened.
“Yeah, in my head, the man in black comes here for me and we all get murdered.” She shook her head with a sarcastic smile. “On that happy note, I better get dressed.”
CHAPTER 12
Mel walked away and disappeared into a room at the end of the hallway.
Nate faced forward again, keeping his voice low. “I can probably get you both into a safe house until we catch this guy.”
Callie squared her shoulders, chin raised in defiance. “This is my house. I’m not leaving.”
Nate rolled his eyes. “Mel told me you’re the Muse of Epic Poetry, so I’m guessing your impulse is to charge into battles, but that’s how people end up dead.”
“Many people are dead years before their hearts quit beating.” She raised a brow, her dark eyes pinning him to his seat. “Some things are worth rushing into.”
He shook his head and stood. “Install the cameras. I’ll see about getting a black-and-white to stake out the house for a couple days.” He checked down the hall to be sure Mel wasn’t nearby. Satisfied, he turned back toward Callie. “I’m not letting someone hurt her on my watch.”
