Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  Where did they have him now? Christian didn't know. Hadn't ever known. Probably would have died not knowing.

  He went to the door and banged on it.

  No one answered.

  He banged again. Nothing.

  “Dad! I know you can hear me. I need you to send someone to find my son.” With all the Templar's resources, they should be able to dig up something.

  He got no reply.

  Instead of pacing, he sank to the floor and started doing push-ups. It helped focus his mind to keep his body busy.

  On the count of fifty-eight, he heard the key in the lock. By the time he popped nimbly to his feet, Roman stood in the doorway.

  “Can I trust you not to do something stupid if I don't cuff your hands while we leave?” Roman asked.

  “Leave? Where are we going?” Christian drug a hand through his tousled hair.

  “Dragar wants me to move you. I had to make sure it was stocked to see us through a week or two.” Roman arched a brow.

  Christian held his hands up, palms out, to keep Roman from advancing on him and applying restraints. “Look, I'm not going try and out maneuver you. This is still my family. Did Dragar--”

  “We'll talk on the way. For now, we need to go.” Roman held the door, indicating Christian go first.

  Glad to be out of the cell for any reason, he stalked into the hallway. Roman was right on his heels.

  Up on the main floor, Christian headed for the door. He heard no one moving around in the stronghold and wondered if the rest went ahead of them.

  On the way off the grounds, Christian also noticed that the usual guard at the gate was missing. They rarely ever allowed the entrance to the stronghold to go unsupervised.

  “Where is--”

  “I can't tell you all the details. I've been instructed not to, for everyone's sake. All you need to know for now is that we're going to the sanctuary.” Roman drove with purpose through the city, keeping a sharp eye on the side and rear view mirrors.

  The sanctuary was also a stronghold, but one only a few Templars knew about. Everyone in Christian's family, Roman, one or two other Knights. Even Father Valanzano didn't know its location.

  “Do you have some information? What did you find out, Roman? C'mon, you have to give me something.”

  “You remember when we were kids? When your father had one of his hunches?” Roman asked, glancing sidelong before returning his attention to the road.

  “Yeah, I remember.” Dragar's gut instinct wasn't something to ignore or be messed with. Time and again it had proven correct and on occasion, had spared a few Templar's their lives. Christian wondered what kind of gut instinct made his father take this route.

  “Well, he's got one. I happen to agree with him, so we're moving you—and myself—to the sanctuary.”

  “Are the rest of them waiting there?”

  Silence.

  Christian exhaled a breath of frustration. Maybe his father would deign to visit him when they arrived.

  ***

  Twelve miles past the very outskirts of Athens, Dragar cut across the countryside taking the smallest, most nondescript roads he could. Beside him in the seat, Minna had hardly said two words the whole time. Petite, quiet, self contained, she never complained, whined or questioned his decisions. Although he ran the entire Order of Templars, Dragar was not a man of many words. He didn't know how to strike up conversation with her, felt awkward trying to make small talk when he needed to concentrate on staying alert.

  Just as the sky started changing from black velvet to pewter, he spotted an older Toyota Landcruiser parked at the edge of someone's property. Putting on the brakes, he pulled over and glanced back through the windshield to assess it. The body had a few minor dents but the tires looked relatively new.

  The asking price painted on the window translated into four thousand American dollars.

  “I'm going to inquire. I'll be right back.” Dragar met Minna's eyes. She nodded.

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” He left the engine running and got out. Even though the hour was early, if the owners really wanted to sell, they wouldn't complain. On the way past the vehicle, he took a look inside; the interior seemed well kept, almost new. He continued to the door and knocked.

  He knocked again a few minutes later when no one answered.

  Finally, the door cracked open and an elderly lady peered around the corner through the screen.

  In fluent Greek, Dragar explained that he wanted to purchase the car, if it was running, and did not offer her less like most people would have. She gave him no trouble, shuffling around the house in her nightdress to get the paperwork and sign it over.

  Dragar paid in cash, hurrying the transaction along as quickly as he could without making the lady nervous. Keys in hand, he drove the Landcruiser off the property and pulled in front of the standard issue BMW. Sliding the gear into park, he let the engine idle to warm it up and got out with the intention of asking Minna to follow him in the BMW.

  He discovered Minna already behind the wheel.

  “Follow me about a mile and we'll dump this one in the woods,” he said, ducking his head down to see her through the window.

  “I'm right behind you.” Minna made eye contact, ready to go.

  Dragar tapped the roof twice and jogged back to the Landcruiser. It handled well and drove smoothly.

  Pulling over at a vacant spot alongside the road where the trees grew thick, he cut the engine and got out. He gestured for Minna to back the car into the brush, guiding her with hand signals. In broad daylight someone would be able to see it, but all he cared about was ditching it for now. If anyone came looking, they would spend a few hours or a whole day in the wrong location while he and Minna put more distance between them.

  Minna transferred herself to the passenger seat of the Landcruiser after parking the car. Efficient, quick, no nonsense.

  Dragar got behind the wheel, turning them out onto the road once more.

  Twenty minutes later, he pulled into a mom and pop style restaurant that catered to truckers and parked alongside the building. He knew this chain had bathrooms accessed by doors outside for the truckers as well as ones inside for dine-in customers.

  “Gonna hit the hea—do you need to use the restrooms? I'll just be a moment.” He turned the engine off and slid the keys from the ignition. Dragar was uncomfortable letting her out of his sight for the five minutes it would take to do his business, but it might look suspicious if someone saw her go in with him.

  “Yes, I'll meet you back here.” Minna undid her seat belt and got out.

  Dragar made sure she got into the woman's restroom before he went into the men's. The yellowish tiles felt sticky under the soles of his boots. Two moths beat relentlessly at the domed light overhead, bouncing off only to swoop in again. At least the urinals were decently clean.

  A sudden flush alerted him to company, and he glanced over his shoulder while he zipped up his fly. A tall, broad shouldered man exited a stall and headed to one of two free standing sinks. Dragar washed his hands in the sink next to him with deft scrubs under water that wouldn't get hot. Wary of everyone, he kept the man in periphery until he stepped out the door.

  The Landcruiser was still empty, so he scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary while he waited on the curb for Minna. A semi pulled out and another pulled in. Two men walked across the asphalt with take out food in their hands along with tall cups of coffee.

  Behind him, the door opened. Dragar tensed, alert for an unexpected attack. The patron lit up a cigarette and stepped around him, mumbling about horses and racetracks and money.

  Once the man reached the roadway and stuck his thumb out, Dragar relaxed. He glanced at his watch then over at the door to the women's room. He didn't want to rush her.

  After another five minutes, however, he grew concerned.

  Stepping over, he used a knuckle to knock on the door. If there were other women in there, they would think he w
as simply her husband. “Minna? We should get back on the road.”

  He got no immediate reply.

  “Minna?” He spoke louder, closer to the crack of the door. One hand slipped behind him where the gun rested at the small of his back under the cover of his shirt.

  No answer.

  Without knocking or announcing his intention, Dragar swung the door open, and stuck his head in. No special care had been taken to differentiate this restroom from the men's. The tiles were still yellow, the light over head throwing off a watery, mustard colored glow.

  The bathroom looked empty. What the hell? He checked every stall and found no one.

  “Minna?” Raising his voice an octave, he exited the bathrooms and stalked around the side of the building, making sure his weapon was concealed. Maybe she'd gone inside to get coffee or something to eat.

  The interior of the restaurant, gloomy for comfort's sake with old wooden furniture and booths that badly needed updating, boasted a full length counter. Stools lined up at the edge, most of them empty, a few of them occupied, none by a petite woman with Asian accented features.

  “Excuse me, sir, can I help you?” a waitress asked in fluent Greek. She had dark hair upswept into an out of date beehive held in place by tiny pins.

  “I'm looking for my wife. She's about this tall, dark hair, probably came in about five minutes ago.” Dragar held his hand up around his chest to indicate Minna's height, matching the waitresses accent flawlessly.

  “No one came in looking like that, Sir. Only truckers so far this morning.”

  Alarm rippled through him. He stalked past the waitress, found the bathrooms, and physically checked them himself. Coming out, he said nothing as he scanned the interior, looking for Minna, finding nothing but truckers and a stray couple pretending like they weren't staring at him.

  Outside, Dragar thoroughly searched the parking lot, the vehicles, the trucks. He asked every single person he came across and they all looked bemused, blank.

  No one had seen her.

  Minna was gone.

  ***

  “So, where you headed to?” The truck driver, speaking decent, understandable English, glanced across the interior of the cab.

  “Israel,” Minna said, cupping her hands in her lap. Every now and then she checked the large, rectangular side mirror for signs of the Landcruiser. Finding a sympathetic ear to her plight had been easy and quick at the restaurant.

  “What's in Israel?” he asked.

  Minna looked across the cab; the driver appeared to be in his late forties, medium build, decent physical shape for a job that kept him sitting for too many hours in a day. He had kind eyes that resonated with harmless curiosity.

  “A solution,” she replied, uncaring if it sounded cryptic.

  “A solution to what? I don't mean to pry little lady, but you don't seem to be the typical wandering student trying to find out what her life really means.” He shifted gears and reached for a pack of cigarettes tucked into the dash.

  Minna said nothing about the smoke. It was his truck and she was lucky he'd taken her under his wing before Dragar discovered her.

  “An injustice visited upon my family. The closer you can get me to Rafina, the better.” To encourage him, she waited until he was watching the road again, cigarette lit, to produce a few bills large enough to make his eyes widen when he glanced back over.

  “I'll do better than that. I'll take you straight there myself.” The smoke bobbed between his lips and he had to readjust his position on the road when he swerved across the double line.

  Minna tucked the bills into the spot his cigarette pack came from and propped her feet up on the dash. She'd taken the money from one of the black bags Dragar brought with them when they left the stronghold.

  While the sun rose above the horizon, she calmly made her plans as mile after mile fell under the wheels of the truck. Deceiving Dragar, who had her best interest in mind, did not please her. But after their meeting in the clearing she understood that the time had come to take the matter of wordly decline into her own hands. When it became clear that she and her sisters would have nowhere to hide, she knew she had to follow through on the promise she'd given so many centuries ago. The promise all the sisters had made. Humanity had hit the point of no return with its surveillance, technology, spying, murdering, wars and deconstruction of basic moral values. Powerful men and women of the age had taken their greed and lust for dominance too far. The restrictions, control tactics, outright disinformation, thieving and desire to mark, brand, or chip every living thing that moved proved too much even for her.

  It was not a decision she made lightly or without strain on her conscious. She'd known this time would come eventually. Maybe she'd been hoping for reprieve or intervention. But there was none. And now she and her sisters were faced with either extinction or a life like a freakshow, hidden from the rest of the world to be poked, prodded, questioned and studied by scientists, religious factions and all manner of other curious personalities who thought they knew better than the rest of the population what was good for them.

  True and honest freedom was a dream only for the naïve. She felt obligated to follow through with the cleansing that must take place. A cleansing not of her devising, but one she would set in motion with a heavy heart and a lot of regret.

  She loved so many things about the progress of man—and loathed that it had gotten so out of hand. If there was a future left for any survivors, all she could hope for was a new beginning based on mutual respect and some semblance of peace.

  It wasn't too much to ask for.

  Chapter Six

  The stillness woke Evelyn from a dreamless sleep. Opening her eyes, she twitched in the seat when she realized Rhett's door was open and he wasn't inside the car.

  “Rhett?” Fumbling with the buckle, she yanked and tugged, blinking away cobwebs and confusion.

  “I'm right here. Don't worry.” His voice drifted in from just outside somewhere.

  Evelyn couldn't see him but was reassured at the casual inflection of his reply. The sun was halfway up beyond the horizon, spreading fingers of orange and pink across the sparkling surface of the water.

  “Why are we stopped?” It didn't dawn on her until then that maybe he was relieving himself on the side of the road.

  “The interchange is up ahead. Saw some flashing lights and wanted to take a look.”

  Evelyn opened the door and got out after freeing herself. Feeling rumpled and disoriented, she looked across the roof of the car to find him with a pair of black binoculars at his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

  “Flashing lights?”

  “I wanted to see if there were any strange check points or other anomalies. So far I don't see anything but what looks like the last stages of a wreck they're clearing off the road.”

  “Do you think they have enough man power to cover every highway?” she asked, squinting into the dawning day. Everything looked normal to her.

  “They'll saturate the area with personnel, put them at all the big junctures because they know, at some point, we'll run out of back roads to take. Same thing at the airports and every other mode of public transportation. But no, they won't be able to cover every single on and off ramp or every inch of highway. You want to stretch your legs for a minute?” He lowered the binoculars and leaned in the car to set them in the back seat.

  “Yes, thanks. I must have slept longer than I thought.” She stayed close to the car, arching her back while she exercised some feeling into her legs.

  “Bout an hour and a half. There are a couple bottles of water in the bag.” He drank from one that he'd perched on the hood of the car.

  “I'll get one after we get going again. It seems so peaceful. I could almost believe that none of this was happening, that we weren't on the run again.”

  “Yeah. Almost.” Rhett grunted, finished the water, and tossed the bottle into the back. He slid behind the wheel and closed his door.

  S
he did a couple squats for good measure and got back inside.

  While he pulled them onto the highway, she yawned and reached behind her for a bottle, rooting around a front pocket rather than the inside, where the weapons were. Finding one, she twisted the cap off and had a long few swallows. It soothed the subtle scratch of her throat.

  The further they wound down out of the foothills, the more homes and structures started to dot the landscape. Rhett had a knack for taking the streets and thoroughfares that had the least traffic and activity, always finding a route around the heart of any town. Two of the less populated streets they needed to take to get past the interchange were blocked, and Rhett frowned while he swung the car around for the main artery that passed beneath the highway.

  “Don't like that those were blocked off,” he muttered half under his breath.

  “They're probably just doing--”

  “Shit.” Rhett put the brakes on hard enough that the car behind them honked. It was still early enough that only a smattering of vehicles traversed the roads.

  “What?” she glanced behind them.

  “There's a check point up here.” For a few tense moments, Rhett seemed to consider his options. “Hold on.”

  Evelyn had heard that from him before. Right when he'd flew through a busy intersection at a red light doing about ninety.

  Slowly, he made a U-turn and cruised the other direction, glancing in the rear view mirror every few seconds.

  “Do you think it was them?” she asked, twisting around in the seat to see for herself. Nothing looked out of the ordinary except what appeared to be a construction zone with wooden horses and men with stop signs to help guide traffic.

  “See the black SUVs parked alongside the road, outside the narrow lane they're forcing all the cars into? That's not part of any road crew or local police.” He looked in his rear view and side mirrors.

  She saw the SUVs he was talking about, one with its doors wide open. There were three; two on the left, one on the right.

  “How could they have known we'd come this way?” Dismayed, she turned back around.