by Lara Nance
“Blade,” Tor said. “Makes sense. It’s a known gang hangout. The club’s remaining open by the skin of its teeth due to the number of incidents they have there. The city council would love to close those dudes down.” He set his glass on the table then popped a cheese slice and cracker into his mouth.
“If the BD’s are haunting it to find victims, we may be able to use it to locate them,” Cara said.
“True.” Tor’s gaze slid to Amber, and he reached out to touch her face, his expression full of tenderness. “I know you’re afraid, baby.”
“Of course I am, sweetheart.” Amber clasped his hand. “Maybe we should just let Rolf take care of them.”
Tor shook his head. “I’d say we’re already involved. But one thing we can do to protect ourselves is make sure our group is able to fight if the time comes.” Tor pounded his fist into his palm.
“What do you mean?” Cara asked.
“I want to make sure all of the people in our group can kick some ass if something happens like last night.” Tor rose and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m going to teach you guys how to fight.”
Cara and Amber exchanged a glance.
“I don’t mean karate. It would take too long to get you to a point where you could defend yourselves. I’m going to teach you street fighting, down and dirty, man.” He made a punching motion. “Like I learned in New York.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” Amber said. “You know how I feel about violence.”
“I know how you feel, but this is about protecting yourself.” Tor rested a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want you to be defenseless.”
“He’s right,” Cara said. “We have to be in a position of strength. Right now we’re weak.”
Amber bit her fingernail, but nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt to have some pepper spray or something.”
Tor chuckled. “Okay, babe, I’ll get you some pepper spray.” Then he turned to Cara. “I’ll let Alistair, Marc and Shana know, too. We’ll start tomorrow night. We can work at the dojo after the regular classes.”
“I’m glad you thought of this, Tor. I’ll feel better if I can protect myself. When that guy attacked me, I didn’t know what to do.” Cara thought for a moment. “You know, everyone should also think about getting a dog. They can alert us to the presence of the BD’s.” She gave them a recounting of what had happened with Dusty last night.
“Not a bad idea.” Tor crossed his arms. He looked at Amber.
“I’d love to have a dog.” She gave a small smile. “I’m all for that.”
Cara smiled and pushed with aching muscles to rise from the couch. “All I want right now is to crawl in bed after I call Rolf and update him on Nicki’s appearance. Tor, will you call Alistair for me?”
“Sure.” Tor flopped down beside Amber and attacked the cheese tray again.
Cara hauled bags through the door to the hall into the spare bedroom she’d used many times in the past. She both dreaded and eagerly anticipated calling Rolf. He did need to know about Nicki, though. Blade was the best clue they had so far and, no matter how dangerous, they had to check it out.
Chapter Thirteen
“You fool.” Desmond drew back his arm to backhand the bald man slouched before him. The Taker soared into the air and crashed against a bookcase covering the wall, seven feet away. Then he slid into a heap, unconscious. A shower of books fell on top of him.
Carlton stood beside his master in Desmond’s second floor study. He barely flinched as Desmond attacked his underling. The other Takers cowered against the wall by the window.
Desmond eyed Carlton. This was a lesson for him as well as the others. He wouldn’t tolerate any more mistakes. “Incompetence! You tried to take a girl’s Light and instead let her escape? Idiot. Take him away.” Desmond flicked a hand and two of his followers surged forward to drag the limp body from the room. The others hurried after, eyes wide. Only Carlton remained.
“What will you do with him?” Carlton asked, clasping his hands behind his back.
“I should kill him.” Rage tainted his vision with red, angry scenes of destruction. He’d never destroy Rolf with these incompetents surrounding him.
Carlton nodded.
“But those with the gift are few and far between.” Desmond paced across the Oriental rug in front of his desk, rubbing his chin. “My plans are too advanced for these menial disruptions. But I need every man I have. If it weren’t for that I would kill them all. This cannot happen again.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Desmond wheeled to stare at his second in command. “I don’t think you do. I am on the verge of launching a plan to eventually control the entire world. And yet I have fools who cannot carry out even the simplest assignment. Does the absurdity of that reality strike fear into your heart for the success of our endeavor?”
“I see what you mean.” Carlton glanced at the floor. “But how do you trust a junkie? Because that’s what these men are. Light-dealers given a taste of tortured Light and turned to the darkness. Now they crave it and would do anything for another hit. Only the threat of death controls them.”
“Then it’s fortunate they know I can kill them.” Desmond stomped to the heavy, dark oak table housing his treasured golden statue. He brushed his fingers over the smooth, creamy turquoise-colored opal planted atop the grimacing Incan god.
Even Carlton didn’t know this stone was the center of his plan. He didn’t need to know yet. When they spread the Net he would reveal this great secret.
The enormous Andean opal’s power had been evident even in the tomb of earth where Desmond originally found it. Radiance from the stone penetrated through the ground in the cave and he dug it out with his fingers, clawing through chunks of dirt and rocks. Using it had allowed him to escape the cave prison in which his brother planned for him to spend eternity.
“I’ll make sure they understand their lives hang by a thread,” Carlton said.
“Good. I’m glad you’re not blind. Now, see if you can find these two women and deal with them before they go to the police with any information or descriptions. And dispose of them somewhere they won’t be found.” He stalked forward with menacing steps and lifted the younger man’s chin with one finger, leaning close. “Don’t fail me, Carlton. I don’t want to lose you.”
Carlton’s nostrils flared, and his gaze shifted to the floor in submission.
“Once we have people in the positions of power we need, we can control the world. I’m sure you want to be a part of that?” Desmond dropped his hand and eased back.
Carlton swallowed. “Don’t worry. I’ll see to disposing of the women personally. And the hack is almost complete. I should be finished within a week.”
Desmond smiled. He tilted forward again to pat Carlton’s cheek. “Excellent. I knew you could do it.”
“We need to start taping the ads we’re going to run so we’re ready once the link is secure.” Carlton blinked several times.
“Very good. We can work on it tomorrow.” Desmond dropped his hand to Carlton’s shoulder, and gripped it tight enough to feel bones grinding.
Carlton winced and backed away. Desmond followed him from the study, down the hall to Carlton’s office. Ten glowing computer screens with a variety of keyboards and processors filled every available space on shelves lining the wall by the door and the side wall. Fans across the room blew the heat from the machines to fan his face and he breathed in the musky smell of fear from Carlton.
Desmond strolled to the other side wall with the large cork board and scanned the labels tacked there listing major cities throughout the United States he controlled. Under those, a succession of note cards listed names. Names of trusted government officials, police, military and VIP’s, carefully nurtured over the past ten years by Desmond for one purpose—control of the cities.
Inner warmth suffused him, thinking of the power and wealth that would soon flow toward him like rivers flowed to the sea. He rubbed his hands tog
ether in anticipation. The only mishap at this point was if his idiot men continued to screw up.
He turned from the board. Carlton placed his phone and a laptop in a satchel and swung it over his shoulder. Desmond hoped he would be able to clean up the mess made last night. Any more mistakes and someone would have to die.
###
“Damn!” Rolf slammed the phone down. The spindly antique desk in the living room creaked in protest at such abuse. So, the group of Takers they’d tracked in Richmond, Virginia had links to the one here in Norfolk. Desmond’s control reached much further than the local area. While Rolf was stamping out solitary Takers across Europe for the last twenty years, Desmond had been building an empire here in America.
Next time he confronted the Huaca he wouldn’t leave him buried in a pile of rubble. He’d make sure he was finished completely. He paced to the fireplace, assessing the enormity of the situation.
An involuntary snarl escaped his lips. Soon he would have to face his old enemy again. But first, he needed more information. This time it wasn’t just Desmond he must destroy, it was large groups of Takers in five cities as well.
Rolf pulled his cell from his pocket and stared at it for several seconds. Did he dare call her? He tunneled his fingers through his short black hair. It was difficult to admit, but the extent of the threat pushed him into utilizing Cara and her friends, and yet he worried for her safety. But it was imperative to control his emotions for the sake of saving the world, as usual. He sighed and punched in Cara’s number.
“Hello?” Her voice resonated with dependability and self assurance. It calmed him.
“It’s me. Rolf. Where are you?”
“I’m at Tor’s dojo. He’s teaching us to fight.”
“Your other friends are there?”
“Yes, why?”
“Give me the address.”
“Are you coming here?”
“I need to see you, ah, and ah, your friends. Is that all right?”
“Of course. Is something wrong?” Her voice held a timbre of worry. It’d been a long while since anyone fretted for him. Funny. It felt as good now as it did a millennia ago.
“I’ll tell you about it when I get there,” he said.
She relayed the address and, within forty minutes, he steered his Mercedes into a deserted parking lot, save four cars in front of a strip center. He strode to the front of the dojo with the name Karate Masters in blazing red neon above the door.
He stepped inside, put his hands together, and bowed, honoring the dojo. When he straightened and removed his shoes, he glanced at his reflection in the mirrors lining the side walls. Cara and her group practiced at the rear of the large, shiny floored exercise area. Shelves cluttered with a variety of tall and short sparkling trophies filled one section of the back wall. Cara’s friend must be successful in his fighting.
Cara threw an impressive punch at an Asian man, who gave her a high five. She turned her head and noticed Rolf then smiled. She peeled away from the others to trot across the floor to him, her shapely legs displayed in black leggings topped by an oversized sweatshirt. Her strawberry blonde hair bounced in a long ponytail, exposing her graceful neck. A sizzle of warmth stirred in his gut.
“Hey, you found it.” Behind her, five other people milled about, all in workout clothes except the Asian man in a gi with a black belt. The dojo owner, no doubt. The students’ eyes followed him as he advanced into the brightness of the workout floor.
Rolf refocused on Cara. “Yes. I’m happy to see you made it through another day. No trouble at work?”
“Just the usual sick, desperate, poor people.” She shrugged, her long ponytail falling over one shoulder to her breast. “It’s been quiet there.”
“Good.”
“Come on over and let me introduce you to my friends.” She gestured to the group behind her. “Hey, guys. This is Rolf. I’ve already told you all about him.” Then she recited the names of the others.
He stepped forward to shake their hands, assessing them through the eyes of a warrior. Tor, wiry and strong; Amber, pale and gentle; Shana, fiery and unpredictable; Marc with a long scratch down one cheek, unable to meet his gaze; and Alistair, intelligent with a tight grip showing confidence. Ah, but they all had the aura of Dealer power. It was a start.
“And you know Dusty.” She pointed to her dog, lying on a blanket by the end wall, his tail wagging at Rolf.
“I’m pleased to meet all of you. Since Cara has already told you the basics, let me fill you in on what I’ve learned today.” He gave them the information about Desmond and the confirmed connection in Richmond.
“The Huaca,” Alistair mused, rubbing his chin. “It makes sense. He couldn’t make his own energy, so he took it from others. It was beneficial for him to develop an aura as holy or a deity so he was assured of sacrifices. Would you say it’s possible his power has grown over time?”
“All I can say is, when we fought five-hundred years ago he was very strong. I thought I’d destroyed him. Therefore, the fact he remains alive is a testimony to his strength and endurance.”
“Have you grown stronger over time?” Cara asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we should assume he has as well.”
“That would be reasonable,” he said. “But what I need right now is more information, and my staff is spread thin.” He turned to Tor. “How many places are known as gang hangouts? I prefer to pick the Takers off one at a time if we know what places they frequent. Fighting a large group at once would be a disaster.”
Tor glanced at Amber and she nodded. “Okay, dude, I can get you a list.”
“But what about the club Nicki told me about?” Cara crossed her arms.
“It’s being taken care of.” Rolf didn’t want them involved in that sort of activity without training.
“We need to stake it out. Then attack them before they attack us.” She shifted her gaze to the other members of the group. Shana, Tor, and Alistair nodded while Amber and Marc looked away.
“Well, I think Cara’s right,” Shana stepped forward, brown eyes flashing. “We need to stomp this trash out, and fast before it spreads.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Rolf said.
“Why not?” Cara planted her hands on her hips.
“I already know where they live and my men are keeping an eye on the club. They will eliminate any Takers they find luring unsuspecting victims away from the scene.”
Marc shifted back and forth on his feet then crossed his arms over his chest.
Rolf glanced at Cara. “If you went, the Taker’s would feel your energy signature and you would be ineffective. Besides, I need Tor’s help diverting the police from a house for a brief time tomorrow. I have to get more information from the Takers’ headquarters.” He detailed his plans to them and everyone nodded agreement—except Tor.
“I’m not sure. If I’m caught, it’s my ass on the line.” Tor raked a hand through his hair.
“We shall take every precaution not to be caught,” Rolf said. “We’ll watch the location until they’re all out then disarm their security system. But I need to make sure there’s no police roaming the area while we’re working on the cable.”
Tor threw up his hands. “Okay, man. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Excellent,” Rolf said. “Now, I need to speak to Cara a moment.”
Cara raised one brow.
“Outside.” He jerked his head toward the front door.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Right.” She followed him outside to a bench on the sidewalk.
The parking lot still held only the group’s cars. The air was warm for this time of year, but he saw her shiver.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Her intense hazel eyes focused on his. The moonlight highlighted her creamy skin. So soft. His fingertips tingled to touch the satin-smooth flesh. He joined her on the bench but kept a foot of space between them.
Being alone with her rattled his rock solid resolve, but there
was something important he needed to know about the night the Taker attacked her. It’d kept him up last night. “The night the Taker attacked you. You told me he tried to take your Light.”
She let out a big breath and sagged against the bench. “Yes, he pinned me against the wall and put his hand on my forehead. Then he looked surprised. That happened only seconds before you hit him.”
“He wasn’t able to take any?”
She shifted to face him. “No, I didn’t feel anything. What are you getting at?”
“I’m not sure. But Takers become adept at extracting Light from their victims. In the past I’ve never found anyone able to stop them—unless—” He gripped his knees.
“Unless what?” She rested a hand on his arm. A tingle of warmth seeped through his shirt where she touched him and a jolt of electricity shot up his arm to pierce his chest in an explosion that set blood hammering in his veins. He bolted to his feet and her hand peeled off him. But his eyes never left hers.
Warring confusion and realization clashed in the depths of her gaze. “Rolf?” She slid forward in her seat.
“I believe you have the gift,” he whispered, rubbing his arm.
“Gift?” She blinked several times, long lashes fanning her cheeks.
“It’s rare, but some Givers are able to block any attempt to take their Light. It’s a valuable gift.”
She looked down and murmured something he didn’t understand.
“What?”
“Miss Emmie.” She raised her gaze to his. “She was a Giver. One of my patients at the free clinic. She died last week and, before she passed, she told me she wanted to give me her gift. I didn’t understand. She was going on about some evil coming—” Her eyes popped wide. “She knew! She must have been talking about the Takers coming. She wanted to give me her gift to protect me.”
“It makes sense.” Rolf sank back to the bench, a couple feet away from her this time. “Your Emmie might have been one of the scattered ancient ones. Strange that she died…unless she passed of her own accord. If she gave you the gift, I wanted to ask you to let me test it—to see if you really can withstand an attempt to take your Light. It would be extremely valuable to know this.” He turned sideways in his seat to face her. “But you have to agree to let me try. If you don’t trust me, I understand.” He studied her expression as her emotions played out: fear, confusion, resignation.
