“Kids,” he whispered. “Lay down between these.”
“It’s gross,” Sabrina whispered.
“Get down, Sabrina,” he said sharply. He loved the kid, but she was trying his patience. “If bullets start flying, you’ll have some protection.”
“Bullets?”
Okay, maybe honesty wasn’t the best policy when it came to kids, but he damned well didn’t have time to filter his words.
“Get down, both of you. Myrtle, come here.” He helped his aunt into the corner on the other side of the wheelbarrow.
“What about the lawn mower,” Larsen asked in a whisper. She stood silhouetted in the doorway, a couple of sprigs of holly sticking out of her back pants’ pockets like prickly tail feathers. “Could we tip it, too?”
“It’s probably still loaded with gas.”
Her eyes widened and their gazes met. In those golden-brown eyes he saw perfect understanding. It would blow sky-high if a bullet struck it. Then again, if the bullets started flying, there wasn’t a lot of chance of survival for any of them.
Regret softened her eyes before she broke the contact. Regret for what might have been? Or for what she’d done to him? He couldn’t know. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was staying alive.
He stepped over a pile of rotting lumber to join Larsen by the door. “Close it, Larsen, and move to the side, away from the door.”
The only sounds now were the occasional sniffle—he suspected Sabrina was crying—and the sound of a dog barking in the distance. All normal neighborhood sounds had been silenced by the crack of gunfire.
Seconds ticked by like hours, the minutes an eternity. He stood facing the door in clothes damp from rain and sweat, his gun hanging at his side, ready to kill the men he’d sworn to give his life for.
If they survived this, if he survived, he’d kill that son-of-a-bitch Esri.
A twig cracked heavily near by. A single crack. Someone approached.
Fear tasted like cardboard on his tongue. Go by. Ignore the shed. If that door opened, he was going to have to shoot. How could he do it? How could he shoot one of his own men?
No choice. He had to protect the lives inside the shed. And he had to survive long enough to stop the Esri.
The steps moved closer, toward the door. Heavy, slow, careful steps. Cop’s steps.
Jack’s breaths echoed in his ears. His heart thudded in his chest until he was sure the sound would give them away. Never in his worst nightmare could he have imagined being put in this position. Fury ate through his heart like acid. The albino was going to die for this. If Jack survived the next few minutes, the albino was going to die.
The steps drew closer. Jack raised his gun.
The door vibrated as someone gripped the handle, then flew open in a wash of hazy daylight. In the doorway, a cop looked down the barrel of his revolver.
“Hank.”
Jack was going to die.
Fear slammed into Larsen’s chest, pounding through her veins like a jackhammer on a city sidewalk. The cop had his gun pointed right at Jack’s chest and Jack wasn’t moving. He couldn’t pull the trigger on his friend. With desperation, she reached for the closest thing that could act as a weapon, her hand closing around a long-handled shovel.
Her muscles bunched and strained as she swung the shovel upward with all her might connecting, with a thud, with the big cop’s gun arm. A shot fired at the ceiling, sending a spray of wood chips and dust raining down on them. Jack dove for the man’s legs, tackling him, sending him crashing onto the piles of rotting lumber.
Larsen reached for one of the prickly holly sprigs she’d stuck in her back pocket and shoved it up the cop’s pant leg before he could roll away. The man stilled instantly. Larsen dragged breaths into her lungs as if she’d run a five-mile race, her heart thudding in her ears.
Jack pressed the barrel of his gun into Henry’s neck. “Freeze!” The two men were awash in the misty daylight flowing in from the open shed door. Beads of sweat ran down Jack’s temples.
Henry tried to move, but Jack pushed the gun harder into his neck. “Don’t move! Drop your gun, Hank.”
“What’s the matter with you, Jack?”
“Drop it.”
“Sure, sure. No problem.” He dropped the gun onto the ground beside his head.
Jack grabbed the weapon, flicked something on it, then tossed it behind him, Henry staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Get it, Larsen.”
She picked up the heavy gun, the first she’d ever touched in her life.
“Now will you get the hell off me?” the bigger man said.
Larsen backed up, cradling the gun, half afraid it would go off if she so much as moved it.
“What are you doing here, buddy?” Jack asked softly.
“I’m…” Henry stopped. Confusion, then a flash of fear entered his eyes. “I’m…supposed to…heaven help me. I’m supposed to kill you.”
“Do you know why?”
The big man’s eyes narrowed with thought and no small amount of horror. “No. Just that…Baleris. He’s the one calling the shots now.”
“And what are you going to do about it?”
The cop scowled. “You’re my partner, man.”
Jack nodded. “That’s more like it.” He pushed to his feet and held out his hand to the other man and helped him up.
“What’s going on?” Henry asked, his face still a mask of confusion and disgust. His gaze swung to her and narrowed as if he couldn’t quite place her. The dark hair was doing the trick.
“Daddy?” Sabrina sat up from behind the wheelbarrow.
Henry jerked toward the sound. “Sabrina?”
David popped up beside her. “Hi, Dad!”
“Davy? But…what are you…? I thought…”
As the kids started to rise, Jack stepped between them and aimed the gun at their father. “Get down, both of you!”
“But—” Sabrina began.
“Now! Hank, I’m sorry, but Baleris has your mind and I can’t take a chance on you hurting your kids.”
Henry nodded, his eyes wide. “Do as Jack says.”
“But, Dad…”
“Sabrina,” Henry barked. “Down. Now.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl knelt, her expression sullen even as tears sprang to her eyes. Larsen felt a stab of sympathy for the girl. Sabrina was having a rotten day. She needed reassurance that her dad wasn’t going to hurt her. But they couldn’t give her that.
“What’s going on, Jack?” Henry raised his hands even as Jack lowered his gun.
“It’s Baleris. Hank, are any other cops with you?”
His dark brows pulled together. “No. We split up back at the house.” His dark skin positively paled. “We…you…you were all in there?”
“Not when you were shooting. We ran when we heard the sirens.”
“We riddled that place, man.”
“I know. That’s why I want you to keep your distance from your kids until I’m sure you’re safe.”
Henry’s shoulders sagged, his expression melting. “What’s he done to me?”
Jack let out a heavy breath. “It’s a long story, but the bottom line is, he’s controlling the minds of the entire M.P.D. You’re his own private hit squad.”
“Damn.”
“We’ve got to get out of here before any more cops come after us.”
“How?” Henry winced and shook the holly branch out of his pant legs. “Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah. Come in and shut the door.”
“Wait,” Larsen said. “The holly.”
Henry’s hand shot out toward her. “My gun.” As the big man’s gaze swung up to meet hers, she saw the hard calculation in his eyes.
The enchantment.
“Jack…” As Henry lunged for her, Larsen leaped backward, slamming her back into one of the wood studs that held up the wall.
Jack brought the butt of his gun down hard on the back of his friend’s head. With a heavy thud, Henr
y collapsed at her feet.
“Daddy!” Sabrina cried, and ran for her father.
Jack shoved his gun into his waistband. “The holly didn’t work.”
“It worked while it touched him. But it only dampened the effects of the enchantment. It didn’t break it.”
Sabrina knelt beside the prone man and turned horrified eyes on Jack. “You killed him.”
“No, baby.” He knelt beside her and pressed his fingertips to Henry’s neck. “Feel his pulse, Sabrina. It’s good and strong.”
But the girl stared at him as if she hadn’t heard. “I hate you!”
Jack sighed. “Sweetheart, if I’d meant to kill him, I wouldn’t have used the handle of the gun, now would I?”
Sabrina threw herself on her dad.
Jack picked up the holly sprig and shoved it back up Henry’s pant leg. “This is scratching the hell out of his leg.”
“I know,” Larsen said. “But I don’t know if it’s the branch or the leaves that do the trick, and something worked. We can experiment later.”
“I agree.”
Larsen looked around. “We need a length of rope or something to keep it from falling out again.”
Jack pulled a small pocketknife out of his pocket and tossed it to her. “There’s a sled back there with a cord.”
Larsen retrieved the cord and retraced her steps carefully over the piles of lumber and junk. She handed it to Jack and watched as he tied it carefully around Henry’s leg at the ankle.
“Nice work with the shovel,” he said without inflection.
“I was afraid he was going to shoot you.”
“Me, too.” He glanced at her, then away, a hint of self-loathing in his eyes. “I hesitated. I could have gotten us all killed.”
“But you didn’t.” Compassion eased through her, a need to comfort and to reassure. She laid her hand on his arm. “You’ve spent years protecting your partner. I’d be more worried about you if you hadn’t had any qualms about killing him. He wasn’t attacking you on purpose. And, good grief, his kids were watching. How could you have pulled that trigger?”
“That doesn’t help a lot.” He met her gaze and made a rueful twist with his mouth. “But it does help.”
He held out his hand. “Give me the gun and I’ll show you how to use it.”
“How do you know I’m not a crack shot?”
“Because you’re holding it like it’s going to explode.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right.” She laid the gun carefully onto his outstretched palm. “Are you sure you want me handling this thing?”
“Positive. You’re my backup if anything goes wrong.”
The thought was at once reassuring, that he still trusted her, and infinitely depressing. If she was the backup against a dozen cops, they were in deep trouble.
Jack showed her the basics, then handed the gun back to her. With trembling fingers, she set the safety and shoved the gun into the waistband of her pants.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding her arms out at her sides. “Do I look like a cop now?”
His gaze slid slowly down her body as something warm and carnal moved in his eyes.
“You want to play cop for real?”
She dropped her hands. “What do you mean?”
“We need a getaway car. And I can’t leave Henry.”
Larsen swallowed. “What are you saying?”
He handed her Henry’s badge. Larsen’s eyes widened. “You want me to impersonate a police officer?”
“We need a car. You can either appropriate it with the badge, or the gun. Your choice.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re serious.”
He nodded once, sharply. “Dead serious. If we don’t stop Baleris, we could be facing a much larger threat than one lone Esri. We’re the only ones who can stop him. He’s shoved us outside of the law by sending the police after us. We’re going to have to work out of here for now.”
The thought of resorting to car-jacking sickened and terrified her. What if something went wrong? What if someone got hurt?
“Jack, I don’t think I can do this.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “You can do it, angel. If there’s anyone I trust to get the job done—any job done—it’s you.”
She searched his eyes. “I don’t know how you trust me after what I did to you.”
Something cool and guarded moved through those blue depths. He dropped his hands. “I don’t seem to have a choice.”
Larsen sighed. “When you put it that way…” Still, she’d give anything if she could give the job to someone else. But there wasn’t anyone. She could either get the car, or try to keep Henry from killing them all. “One car, coming up.”
He reached for her again, then dropped his hand, his expression turning cool and guarded. “Be careful out there.” For a moment something warm passed like a shadow through his eyes. “I need you.”
Larsen swallowed and nodded. “Here goes nothing.” She eased out of the shed and into the drizzle, the safety of the world riding squarely on her shoulders.
Chapter 15
“Dad, it was so cool.” David leaned over the armrest of the car seat. “Sabrina says there were lights and everything.”
“Lights?” Henry’s expression was one of classic disbelief. The two men sat in the far back of the minivan; Henry was bound, hand and foot, the ropes then tied around the bench seat. If he tried to go anywhere, he’d be taking the car with him.
“It’s true, Dad,” Sabrina said from the second captain’s chair. “David was glowing, then the light rose out of him and turned colorful and sparkly.”
Henry’s disbelieving gaze swiveled to Jack.
Jack nodded slowly. Quick movements just made the pain in his head worse. “Hank, if you’re looking for logical, forget it. We left that station about a hundred miles back.”
Rain fell lightly outside, the soft swish of the windshield wipers a whisper against the riot going on in his head. They were on I-66 heading east toward D.C. Larsen was driving, her grip on the wheel white-knuckled and rigid. Beside her, Myrtle talked animatedly as if they were returning home from a family vacation instead of attempting to elude capture and death in a stolen vehicle.
Larsen’s dyed hair swung around her chin as she turned at something Myrtle said, her expression preoccupied. Her gaze swiveled toward him, and for a single heartbeat their gazes met before she turned back to the road. He felt the touch of her gaze like a kick to his solar plexis. She was so damned beautiful. Even after what she’d done to him, he wanted her with an ache that was a living, pulsing thing inside him. An ache that would never be eased.
His dream of a future with her was gone. Whatever she’d done to him had accelerated the course of his madness by months, probably years. And her touch no longer gave him the respite he needed to ever hope to stay sane. No, his days were numbered. He just had to hang on to his sanity long enough to catch the Esri. And save the world.
“They said I was going to die, Dad,” David said as if talking about nothing more than a cut on his knee. “I heard them. Uncle Jack rescued me and Aunt Myrtle healed me.”
Henry’s gaze went from Jack to his son and back again. His eyes narrowed as if turning inward, digging for memory. “You kidnapped him out of the hospital?” His eyes cleared as memory apparently returned. “Mei was frantic.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry for putting her through that, but the docs had given David up for dead. I had to try to save him.”
“And you did.” Henry’s eyes narrowed with wonder and gratitude. “You risked everything for my son.”
“I’m glad it worked.” An understatement if there ever was one.
“I owe you, man.”
“You’ve already paid.” Jack pressed his palm to his forehead as if he could push the pressure down. “Do you remember calling me the night you shot up my house?”
Henry blanched. “Shot it up?”
“Yeah. You’ve been busy, Hank. Anyway,
you called me and woke me up. You saved my life. You told me you had to kill me and that you were sorry.” Jack felt his mouth twitch. “I was the white brother you’d never had.”
Henry grinned, the slash of white across his dark face familiar and welcome. “The white brother I never had, huh? Not to be confused with my blue or green brothers.” His eyes turned sober. “I saved you? Really?”
“You did. I was so tired, I’d never have heard the cars in time if you hadn’t woken me. I’m just saying…you’re the brother I never had. And your family’s mine.”
Henry nodded, then turned to look out the window, blinking a little too fast. “Tell me what’s going on, Jack. All of it.”
As the wipers rubbed lazily against the windshield, Jack told him. About the Esri, the enchantment, the Stone of Ezrie, and the deadline of the full moon. The traffic began to slow as they neared the D.C. suburbs, though they were still a good twenty miles from the city. The car’s air conditioner blew steadily, ruffling the edges of his hair.
“Hank, what do you know? What is Baleris doing in the police station?”
Henry shook his head. “I don’t…” Suddenly he grimaced, his expression turning pained.
“What’s the matter, Hank? What’s hurting.”
“Nothing. Everything. I just remembered.”
“Tell me.”
Henry tipped his head back, his mouth grim. “He’s turned the interrogation room into his private quarters. Pillows everywhere like a sultan’s palace. He’s got us bringing him food and wine at all hours of the day and night. And every morning a…”
He squeezed his eyes closed, his face a mask of grief. Finally he turned toward Jack and mouthed, “A virgin. A college kid.” He said the last, his voice filled with pain. “And we’re helping him.”
“You don’t have a choice, Hank. You don’t even know what you’re doing. I’m amazed you remember. No one else has been able to.”
“It must be the holly,” Larsen called back. Obviously the entire car was eavesdropping on their conversation.
Henry lowered his voice to barely a whisper and leaned toward Jack. “He feeds off the taking of them. The blood strengthens his magic.”
The Dark Gate Page 17
