Vision of Darkness (D.I.E. Squadron Book 1)

by Tonya Burrows

  Lying in wait for hours, even days. Staring through a scope for so long he had crosshairs burned into his eyelids when he finally shut them.

  Nick’s hand settled on his shoulder like a weight anchoring him to the here-and-now. “You with me, pal?”

  Relax. Three breaths in, one long out. “Yeah.” He adjusted his scope and aimed for center mass. Helen was using Pru as a block as she shouted at the sheriff and his deputies, and he couldn’t get a clear shot. Fuck. He adjusted again and aimed—more risk of missing with a headshot, but it was his only option.

  Minutes passed. Maybe hours. He couldn’t hear what was going on, but the negotiation seemed to be getting nowhere. His eyelid twitched and he rested his forehead on his arm for a moment, closing his lids to relax. Then he fitted his eye back to the scope and waited.

  “She’s coming unhinged,” Nick whispered.

  He could see that. Helen’s movements had gone jerky, like a frightened bird fluttering around its cage. Keeping her in the crosshair took a lot of adjusting and readjusting. “This whole thing’s fubar.”

  Nick took down the binocs, rubbed his eyes, replaced them. “No shit.”

  More waiting. Helen dragged Pru back and forth with an arm clamped around her throat, waving the gun like a flag. Pru stayed amazingly calm, keeping her gaze locked on him when she was able. Sometimes she spoke and it felt like she was speaking to him. He wished he could read lips.

  The gun’s muzzle settled at Pru’s temple and his heartbeat kicked as she squeezed her eyes shut and tears leaked out of the corners.

  Stay calm. Three breaths in, one long out. Three breaths in—

  In a flash of movement, Pru slammed her elbow into Helen’s stomach and dove for the front door.

  “Goddammit,” Nick said.

  Alex was tempted to track her, but forced himself to keep the rifle on Helen, his finger taking up slack on the trigger. The older woman doubled over in surprise, then straightened and aimed the gun at Pru’s back.

  The explosion shook the window sill and took out his hearing with a sharp ring. A split-second later, blood blossomed on the wall behind Helen as the bullet made a canoe of her head. She dropped right where she stood, a bag of lifeless bones and flesh.

  Nick lowered his binoculars, tilted his face toward the ceiling as if praying, and released a pent-up breath. “Kill confirmed.”

  Pru lurched from the diner, collapsed on her hands and knees, and vomited onto the pavement as the cops rushed toward her.

  Alex dropped his head to his arm, his hand falling away from the trigger, and talked his stomach out of doing the same.

  CHAPTER 28

  It was hours before Alex was allowed to leave the scene and his skin itched with the need to get to Pru. She’d been checked by paramedics and deemed unharmed, so Grandma Mae came to take her home. He’d wanted to follow, but there were questions to be answered and statements to be made. A nightmare to be relived.

  He got a bunch of back-slaps and way-to-go’s for the shot, even from the state troopers when they finally deemed to arrive, but it felt like hollow congrats. They were all really thinking, better you than me.

  Another kill. What was he at now? More than he wanted to count.

  Helen hadn’t known how to use the gun she was brandishing. If she’d had a chance to pull the trigger, the bullet never would have fired. Safety lock was still engaged. Even so, it looked like there would be no repercussions for him, since he was working in official capacity under Forbes’s orders. Which was just fucking wrong. He’d killed a woman who turned out to be no threat at all. He should be punished.

  After questions, and more questions, and more questions, Nick drove him home. He was grateful for it. No way he’d be able to handle a task more complex than breathing at the moment.

  Alex dragged his ass through the front door and Grandma Mae hopped up from her seat on the living room couch. She went right to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. She was so short, her head rested on his stomach. He returned the hug, bending to lay his cheek on top of her head, taking strength from her wiry body.

  When he mustered the energy to speak, his voice didn’t sound like his own. “How is she?”

  “I think the question is how are you?” Mae leaned back to meet his gaze and cupped his cheeks in her palms. “How are you, Alex?”

  Tired. Sick to death of killing. Jittery from the aftereffects of adrenaline. Tired. Heartsick for what Pru went through in Portland and for the replay of her worst nightmare. Oh, and did he mention really fucking tired?

  But he didn’t say any of it. He considered lying, then chucked the idea. Mae’s blue irises, so like her granddaughter’s, could see through him as if all his tough-guy shields were made of glass.

  For the first time, he let his shoulders sag under the heavy weight of the morning. “I’ve been better.”

  “Go to her,” Mae said and stood on her toes to press a grandmotherly kiss to each side of his jaw. “She’s in her bedroom. You two need each other right now.”

  Sounded like a damn good idea, though he wasn’t sure about the whole Pru-needing-him part. After seeing him in action today, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if she turned him away. A woman with her past—who would blame her for not wanting a killer in her life? But, dammit, he needed her right now.

  He found her sitting on her bed, still dressed in the silly poodle skirt and pink blouse of her costume, twisting her loose hair over one shoulder as she stared off into space. He wasn’t sure she even realized he’d entered the room.

  “Pru.”

  She didn’t jolt, but glanced up with red, mascara-streaked eyes. “I can’t believe Helen… she killed Cappy and she wanted to kill you—” She hiccupped and blinked hard to stem the flow of tears. “I didn’t mean for her to die. I tried to get away so you wouldn’t have to pull the trigger. The safety was on. I tried to tell you. I didn’t want you to…” She trailed off, stared at him like she’d never seen him before.

  He hesitated in the doorway. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No!” Lurching across the bed, she caught his wrist. “I need you to stay, Alex. I need you to make this all go away!”

  As her voice cracked, his heart broke right along with it. “I can’t, baby.”

  “Yes, you can.” She wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “If you hold me, I won’t fall apart. I need you to love me.”

  I do, he thought, though he knew that was not what she was asking of him. Slowly, he crossed the room. He knelt so that his lips were millimeters from hers and rubbed his palms up her thighs. “I will do or be whatever you need. Always.”

  She lifted shaking hands to his cheeks and leaned forward until their lips touched in the briefest of kisses. “Then be my lover. Hold me and make me forget. Just for a while.”

  They undressed each other one article of clothing at a time, Alex savoring every ounce of ivory flesh he uncovered with his hands and lips as the buttons of her blouse came undone. He’d make her forget, make them both forget. She opened like a flower to the springtime sun, and he pleasured her with his mouth until she went lax with sleepy satisfaction. He prowled up her body, kissing his way back to her mouth as her thighs opened to cradle his hips. In one smooth move, her pelvis lifted to meet his and he sank into her plush heat.

  Pru sighed like a woman fulfilled, running her hands over his head, down his shoulders and back. “I love you, Alex.”

  Hot moisture pricked his eyes and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. He wanted to say it back, but those three simple words got stuck somewhere between his brain and his tongue. He wanted to cry, to curl into her embrace and bawl his eyes out—but God, how embarrassing would that be? Not acceptable.

  So he channeled every drop of emotion he felt into making love to her. Propping his weight on his forearms, tangling his hands in her hair, he sipped her mouth and moved in long, slow lunges.

  Across the room, the dresser shook. Pictures swung and dropped off the wall.
The new window he’d installed last night while she worked in the kitchen rattled as if the day was blustery rather than calm. The already damaged full-length mirror in the corner, reflecting shards of their lovemaking, cracked down the middle.

  Alex paid no attention to any of it, too entranced by the woman underneath him and the leisurely, sexy glide of their bodies joining. It felt incredible. He never wanted it to end, but when her climax turned her body into a silken vice, he couldn’t stop the inevitable.

  Pru slept for hours afterward, until the light blue sky of morning faded to a cloudy afternoon and the shadows of the room deepened. Her head rested on Alex’s shoulder, her smooth bare legs tangled around his under the cover. One of her hands splayed over his heart as if she wanted to make sure it was still beating and the other curled around the back of his neck, fingers deep in his hair. With her twined around him like a vine, he should have strangled on the intimacy of it. Any other woman, he would have extracted himself and bolted for the nearest exit. Instead, for the first time in his life, he felt cherished and possessed and—surprise!—he liked it. A lot.

  Pru twitched and whimpered in her sleep, and he dropped a kiss to her forehead to remind her he was still there. If he could, he’d crawl inside her mind and fend off all the bad dreams with his bare hands. Of all people, he knew just how bad bad dreams could be.

  It was a knock on the door late in the afternoon that finally woke her. By then, his shoulder had gone numb, but he had no inclination to move. He smiled when she lifted her head and she returned the smile, all soft and sleepy, a well-satisfied woman—until she noticed the line of drool dripping from her mouth onto his skin.

  “Oh God!” Revolted, she sat and wiped it away. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Hey, hey. Stop.” He caught her wrists in his hands. “It’s fine. A little spit won’t kill me.”

  Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again, impatient.

  “Jesus,” he growled. “What?”

  “Someone’s callin’ your cell,” Nick said through the wood. “I wouldn’t bother you except I think it’s Theo.”

  Theo. Punched by guilt, his gut did a quick bungee routine. He hadn’t heard from his brother in well over a week now, which was beyond abnormal. He flashed back to the last conversation he’d had with Dr. Romano.

  Theo’s condition is deteriorating.

  He never called the doctor back to find out more.

  Pru rubbed a hand in small circles along his spine. “Your brother?”

  With dread rising in his chest, he rolled off the bed and yanked on his jeans commando. Part of him, the little kid with a bad case of hero worship buried deep in his subconscious, needed to hear his big brother’s voice. The other part of him, his inner cynic, wondered what Theo was going to go manic about this time.

  “Yeah,” he said. “My brother.”

  Pru stood and slipped into her robe. Tying the sash closed, she went to the door and smiled at Nick, who took one look at her puffy lips and tousled hair and flushed as red as a Redman could. “Uh, sorry for interruptin’.”

  “You’re not,” she assured.

  Fortunately for him.

  Bare-chested, Alex strode over and held out his hand for the ringing phone. Might as well get it over with, his inner cynic muttered as he raised the phone to his ear. He started to answer with his last name, as was habit, but caught himself. “Hello.”

  “Alex Brennan?” The male voice was unknown and he stilled at the sound of his real name.

  “Who is this?”

  The man on the other end of the line cleared his throat. “I’m calling on behalf of Our Lady of the Incarnation Hospital. Your name’s listed in your brother’s file as an emergency contact.”

  “Jesus.” Alex gripped the phone to his ear and turned away from Pru and Nick, who were both watching him with worried expressions. “Is Theo okay? What happened?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss a patient’s records over the phone. Is there any way you can come here?”

  “I’m in Maine right now on business. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it’ll be …” Fighting back panic, Alex checked his watch. If he broke land-speed records, he could be there in five hours. “At least six o’clock.”

  “All right. We’ll see you then.”

  The man hung up and Alex stared at the phone, his mind blanking out on what the contraption was used for, his throat clogging with a hard ball of emotion that made drawing breath hurt. “I have to go back to Boston,” he said, voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. “I have to—Theo—”

  Oh God.

  Pru touched his bicep. “Go, Alex.”

  He opened his mouth to ask her to come with him, but closed it without uttering a sound. He still hadn’t told her his real last name, and Our Lady was not the place for her to find out about it. Damn that stupid lie. He really needed her with him when he faced whatever news awaited him at the hospital.

  She must’ve seen him struggling because she rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be fine. You need to go to your brother. Family comes first, before anything else.”

  “Yeah, Al, go,” Nick said. “Theo needs you.”

  Alex motioned him into the living room, out of Pru’s hearing. “Do not let anything happen to her.”

  “The danger’s been neutralized,” he said but then grimaced. “But you have my word there will not be a repeat of this mornin’.”

  “Better not. I will be back tonight, no matter what goes down with Theo. If she so much as gets a hangnail while I’m gone, I will be so far up your ass—”

  “Alex.” Nick grasped his shoulders firmly and gave him a little shake. “Go take care of your brother. Pru will be fine. Trust me.”

  CHAPTER 29

  The typical smells of a hospital, urine and cleaning products, blasted Alex as he stepped into the main foyer of Our Lady. Despite the cheerful attempts of potted ferns and the ever-smiling staff, the gothic place always reminded him of Dracula’s castle.

  “Mr. Brennan,” the receptionist said when he approached the desk with his heart beating in his throat. “It’s been a while. Theo’s been asking about you.”

  “Is he okay?”

  The redhead cocked her head to one side, brows drawn together. “Why, yes. Of course he is.”

  It was Alex’s turn to be confused. “He’s not…hurt…or anything?”

  “I can assure you, he’s fine. In fact, he’s doing better today than he has for the past week. He’s been in bed for several hours now. If something had happened, we would’ve called you right away.”

  Alex released a ragged breath and slumped against the desk. He took a moment to enjoy the flash of relief, but then reality set in again. If Theo was okay, then who the hell called him? “I received a call from here about five hours ago from a man who said Theo…”

  Was what? Come to think of it, the man hadn’t really said anything about Theo being hurt or hurting someone else. He had just mentioned the hospital’s name and Theo’s, and then let Alex’s terrified mind fill in the blanks.

  Someone had wanted him distracted.

  And Kevin Mallory was still out there somewhere.

  Shit.

  “Lookit, can I go up and check on him real quick?” he asked the receptionist, the first tendrils of real panic creeping into his mind. He had to see Theo with his own two eyes before returning like a bat out of hell to Maine. Refused to leave without making sure his brother really was okay.

  The receptionist frowned. “Mr. Brennan, you know visiting hours are over at—”

  He slammed a fist on the desk. A framed prayer jumped and fell to the carpet. “I pay this place enough money that I should be able to come see my brother whenever I damn well feel like it.”

  “Okay, okay. Shh.” She waved her hands in a pressing motion to lower his voice. Her gaze flashed up and down the hallway. “You can go up and check on him, but please, do not disturb him. Sleep is an important part of his reco
very.”

  Alex didn’t bother arguing with her that schizophrenics, as a rule, did not recover. With drugs, their disease was manageable, but they were never truly free.

  Rather than wait for the elevator, he raced up the stairs two at a time to the third floor. The hall was dim and quiet, save for the soft strumming of a radio and the voices of two male aides at the desk by the elevator discussing the curvy assets of one of the nurses. They never noticed Alex slip into Theo’s room.

  The austere room wasn’t much bigger than the walk-in closet in Alex’s condo, with space enough for the metal frame bed where Theo lay in a tangled knot of blankets, sound asleep. A wood dresser and small writing desk took up the rest of the space and the hospital’s maintenance staff had bolted every stick of furniture to the floor.

  Although Our Lady was not a prison, iron bars covered the fortified window, which offered a dreary view of the hospital’s gardens, a moss-covered fountain that hadn’t worked in decades, and a handful of crumbling angel statues in the backyard. Charcoal sketches framed the window and Alex scanned each—all grotesque, demonic figures. A complete waste of Theo’s exceptional artistic talents.

  One sketch on the desk caught Alex’s attention and his breath hitched as he picked it up. In it, a lighthouse guarded a ragged cliff and the silhouette of a woman stood atop the tower with her arms spread wide, loose hair whipping in the wind.

  The lighthouse looked like Danger Ledge.

  The woman eerily resembled Pru.

  “Alex,” Theo said from the darkness, voice thick with sleep. “That you?”

  He strode to the bed and shoved the sketch in his brother’s face. “What the hell is this?”

  “The Guides told me you were coming,” Theo said, ignoring the sketch.

  Again with the fucking paranormal bullshit. Was he the only sane person in the world? Alex felt like screaming and gnashed his teeth to keep from doing it. “Who told you about the lighthouse? Who told you about Pru?”

  Sitting up, Theo released a frustrated breath. “I told you—”