Jace

by Sarah McCarty; Sarah McCarty

  “Pretty much.”

  From under his hat brim Jace could see the tightening of Miri’s fine lips. He wanted nothing more than to pull her down and kiss her. And when new lines of strain took up residence beside the old, he wanted to kick himself. He was angry because she didn’t see him the way he wanted her to see him. Angry because she was scared. Angry, as if she didn’t have a right to be scared and full of doubts after the last year. The car hit a bump in the road. He took advantage of the jostle to wedge her tighter.

  “It’s not a problem, Miri.”

  “It is if they come after you.”

  “That’s not our main worry right now.”

  He could have shot himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Immediately her thoughts turned to Faith. The sadness, the agony of hope, the horrible loss leached the energy from him into the black hole of her despair. She needed her baby. He brought her head down to his shoulder. “Ah, sweet, we’re going to get her back.”

  Her nails cut through his shirt, into his chest, tightening with slow precision as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of her torment. So slowly he could hear the individual threads pop.

  It was a losing battle. “What if she was sick?”

  He pushed his hat back. “What makes you think she was sick?”

  “Like Caleb and Allie’s baby. What if she’s sick? What if she needed me and I wasn’t there? What if there’s no need for us to be driving anywhere?”

  “There’s a need.”

  Her voice rose. “How do you know?”

  He tried to hold her. “I know.”

  She shoved him back. “You can’t.”

  He probed her mind. She cursed and swung at him. Her elbow caught against his chest. Her arm jerked off target. All she succeeded in doing was knocking his hat askew as she whispered, “She could be dead.”

  The car swerved. Micah cursed. Jace grabbed her shoulders and held her above him, shaking her a little until she looked at him. Her braid slid over her shoulder, slapping against his chest.

  “She’s not dead.”

  “Words,” she gritted out. “Those are just words.”

  “No, I know.”

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “I know you. I know how hard you love, and there’s no way in hell, as much as you love our daughter, that you wouldn’t know she’s dead.”

  The weres looked at him, then at each other. If he hadn’t been preoccupied with Miri, Tobias’s nod would have worried him.

  Miri drew a shuddering breath. “That’s just a myth.”

  “Until you can look me in the eye and tell me you know in your heart that Faith doesn’t walk this Earth anymore, I’m going to keep looking.”

  Her eyes searched his. She could have been looking for a speck of doubt, an ounce of subterfuge. Whatever she searched for, she wasn’t going to find it. His mother had always had a sense about her children, knowing when they were hurt, when they were safe. Miri was were, with more developed senses. No way was her daughter dead and she didn’t have an inkling.

  She braced her palms on his chest. Her lips thinned and then relaxed. “She doesn’t walk at all. She’s a baby.”

  He lowered her down until she supported herself. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know.”

  Another bump in the road. This one rocked her against him. He picked up the movement, stroking her hair as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “What do you have to be sorry for?”

  “The closer we get, the more difficulty I’m having believing.”

  “So am I.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  She whipped his hat off and dropped it to the floor. “How come it doesn’t show?”

  Cupping the back of her head in his hand and stroking his thumb over her cheek, lingering on the scar, he said, “Because I’ve had a lot of practice facing down hopeless.”

  Her lids flinched.

  “And, baby, this isn’t hopeless.”

  “Then what is it?”

  It was a plea for something to hold on to. He gave her his hand. “Complicated. Damn complicated.”

  “But you know she’s not dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re ten minutes out,” Tobias interrupted.

  Jace both felt and heard Miri’s panic. A quick hug and then he set her aside. “When we get there, I want you to wait in the car.”

  “No.”

  He checked his pistol, making sure the safety was on. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

  She held out her hand for the gun. “That’s my daughter in that house.”

  He didn’t give it to her. “And one of my family at risk is enough.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  The car turned a corner. The trees lining the street, broken up by evenly spaced driveways, highlighted the transition from highway to a residential neighborhood. He glanced out the window. “If you ignore the fact that everyone lives on top of each other, it’s a nice neighborhood.”

  Miri didn’t appear appeased. She reached over and grabbed his revolver. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  She looked entirely too comfortable with that pistol in her hand.

  “Who taught you to shoot?”

  “What makes you think I can?”

  “The way you’re cuddling that gun like a lover.”

  “Maybe I just have a natural affinity for violence.”

  “Maybe.” Except she’d never let him kill anything, not even bugs, claiming life was sacred. “What happened to your life philosophy?”

  She placed the gun across her lap. “I’ve decided to suspend it for the Sanctuary bastards.”

  A laugh came from the front seat. As she glanced at Micah, Jace was treated to the clean line of her profile. The elegant, but arrogant, line of her nose; the slight thrust of her chin and her full pink lips; the big eyes with their dark lashes. The sheer elegant beauty of her. The softness in her features that was totally lacking from his. His gaze dropped to the gun in her lap and his gut twisted. “You shouldn’t be within a hundred miles of this.”

  “I believe that was Slade’s point,” Miri pointed out.

  “His reasons weren’t valid.”

  That chin he liked so much—the one he loved to feel digging into his chest as she smiled up at him after they made love—lifted. “Neither are yours.”

  He took the gun out of her lap. The car slowed. “I’m not risking you.”

  “I’m nothing without my daughter.”

  He tucked the gun behind him and cupped her chin in his hand, raising her eyes to his. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re everything.”

  THEY parked the vehicles the next block over and cut through a vacant lot, approaching the house cautiously. There was no telling what traps the Sanctuary had laid if the Sanctuary had gotten here first. They were smart and had plenty of money accumulated through the legitimate businesses they invested in to finance their immoral projects. Jace couldn’t begin to imagine what Slade could do with the same resources. Probably solve the problems of world hunger and the half-life of radioactive waste.

  He blended his energy with that of the nearest tree, projecting the illusion, matching shimmer for shimmer, shadow for shadow, and listened. With his ears and his mind, he listened. The house was quiet. Dark. Not unusual for humans at two in the morning. Very unusual for Sanctuary strongholds. And his gut said this was Sanctuary.

  “It’s too quiet.”

  Even whispered through the transceiver, Jace could hear the worry in Tobias’s tone.

  “I can’t sense anyone inside.”

  Neither could he. “They could be cloaked.”

  “Or there could be no one there.”

  There had to be someone there. His daughter had to be in there. He couldn’t really picture her in his mind. Every time he tried, the image skittered away, as if even trying to picture her was tempting fate. He liked to think she had
her mother’s soft gold-brown eyes, though. A little girl who looked like Miri would be just about perfect. The glimmer of anticipation and hope was completely foreign to his normal pre-battle calm. He pushed it away. “Move in, but be careful.”

  They had the house surrounded. Sixteen badass weres and three Johnsons—himself, Jared, and Slade. If his daughter was in there, Miri would be holding her in a matter of minutes. Steady, Jace.

  Jared. The man could sense the slightest break in attention.

  I’m okay.

  I’m sensing something.

  For the benefit of the weres, Jace switched to voice. “Good or bad?” The half second it took for Jared to identify something stretched like a lifetime for Jace.

  “The Sanctuary has been here.”

  “How long ago?” Tobias asked.

  “Impossible to say.”

  “Not something I wanted to hear,” Jace whispered back.

  “Sorry.”

  Jace moved up to the window. Nothing disturbed the quiet. No false echoes of energy, no shadows denser than they should be, no echoes of faint heartbeats. Of all the above, the last was the most disturbing. With his back to the building wall, he peered inside. Through the partially closed blinds he could see something suspended on an object in the middle of the room. The myriad intricate shades of black and gray provided by his night vision indicated that it was probably brightly colored in normal light. The way children’s toys were. “I’ve got signs of kids.”

  “Good. I’m anxious to meet my niece,” Slade cut in.

  Not nearly as anxious as he was to meet his daughter. “Better be prepared to lose your heart if she looks anything like her mother.”

  “Let’s hope she looks like her mother.”

  “Focus, gentlemen. On the count of three. One…two…”

  A disturbance in the air behind him whipped Jace around. His gun was up and his finger tightening on the trigger before he recognized the shadow slipping toward him.

  “Three!”

  Doors and windows opened on almost undetectable slides.

  “Shit.”

  What is it?

  Jace moved to the window, manipulating the lock, aware that he was behind the others now, creating a hole to the advantage of anyone waiting inside. Miri.

  I thought you told her to wait in the car.

  Jace motioned her flat against the wall with a cut of his hand. I did.

  I heard you’re some hotshot Alpha now.

  Jace tracked Jared’s energy through the house.

  So I’m told.

  And yet you can’t get one little wolf to obey? Jace covered Miri’s mouth with his hand when she would have spoken. Some wolves are tougher than others.

  He pointed to the spot where she stood and made the motion to stay. She shook her head. With another jab of his finger he emphasized his point.

  He slid through the window and dropped soundlessly to the floor. “I’m in.”

  “And Miri?”

  He heard a footstep behind him. He was going to kill her. “Here, too.”

  A brief chorus of hard chuckles prefaced Jared’s “Stay there.”

  He didn’t have a choice. Jace grabbed Miri’s arm and directed her to a corner, pushing her down, crowding her back, putting his body between her and the door.

  Her nails raked his back. A warning. He ignored it and countered with an order.

  Stay down.

  Let me up.

  “This doesn’t look good” came clearly through his transceiver. Then Jared snapped, “Jace, get Miri out of here.”

  Jace spun, grabbed Miri by her waist, and leapt toward the window. He tossed her through, following so quickly he was over her before she could get to her feet. Voices spoke in his ear, breaking into static, but he couldn’t hear them for the pounding in his ears. He wanted to be in there, part of the action. He rolled to his feet, scanning as he did, looking for a threat. Two McClarens came up beside him, guns ready. He reached down and pulled Miri to her feet. The weres grabbed Miri’s arms and pulled her back.

  His transceiver was dead.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, covering their retreat.

  They only had to say one word. “Bomb.”

  Jace glanced back at the innocuous-looking house. His brothers were in there. His friends. Maybe his daughter. “I’m going in.”

  Both weres latched on to his arms. “Jared’s orders are that you’re to stay here.”

  “Like hell.”

  They’d have to kill him. A breeze disturbed the tension. He had a glimpse of dark hair and pale skin off to the side, running hell-bent for the house. They’d forgotten about Miri. Silent, deadly, determined, all wolf in her quickness, she was already halfway back to the building. Goddamn it.

  He leapt across the distance. When he landed she was no longer there, desperation putting speed on her already quick wolf reflexes.

  He brought her down on the next leap, instinct flaring faster than thought as he felt the change in energy. He dragged her beneath him, taking the slash of her claws, her curses as the world exploded around them. The repercussion of the blast pounded him like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from his lungs. He crawled a bit further over Miri’s body, covering her as the reality fell around hotter and heavier than any debris. Faith. Faith. Oh, God, his little girl.

  The scream wasn’t just inside him, it was all around, guttural and shrill, the cadence rising and falling in an ungodly howl that mirrored the pain in his soul. Miri. Miri was screaming for their daughter. The sound stopped with an abruptness that was just as disturbing. Voices filled the void, deep male and thankfully recognizable. The transmitter was working again. Horror froze one section of his mind while another clicked along with practiced logic. Slade, Jared, Michael, Tobias. He listed the names, sighing, relief swallowing reality. They’d all survived.

  “What in hell did you do?” Jace asked.

  “Jace, is that you?”

  It was a stupid question. Jared never asked stupid questions. “Yeah.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you answer, then?”

  “My transceiver was out.”

  “You never fucking rely on your own power.”

  That wasn’t strictly true. He just trusted technology more.

  Beneath him Miri stirred. “Did everyone get out all right?”

  “We’re still trying to locate Travis. And Jace?”

  “What?”

  “It was a trap.”

  “No shit.”

  “Faith wasn’t here.”

  “Ever?” The whisper came from beneath him. He was pressed so tightly to Miri that her sensitive ears were picking up the conversation. Aided, of course, by the way Jared was yelling.

  “Are you aware you’re yelling?”

  “Yes.”

  Jace would bet a hundred dollars that was a lie. Jared was always very much in control. “Well, cut it out and answer the question.” He didn’t want Miri overhearing news that would upset her. “Was Faith ever in there?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Shit.

  “What did he say?” Miri asked.

  “Faith wasn’t in there.” Jace refused to believe otherwise. Refused to tell her otherwise.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Tobias as he and Micah came up to them.

  “My ears are ringing, but I’m good,” Tobias answered.

  Jace glanced at Micah, who nodded. “You heard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’ll find Travis.”

  “I know.” In an easy motion, Tobias stood and held out his hand.

  “What about Faith?” Miri asked from beneath him.

  As he rolled to the side and sat up, Jace said, “All we know is that she’s not there.”

  “But you said there were signs of kids.”

  “They don’t have to be Faith.”

  They couldn’t be Faith. He stood. Before he could lend a hand she was on her feet, staring at the building as if debating running into the
fire. She leaned forward. The weres lunged for her. Jace grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

  “The fire can’t tell you anything, baby.”

  “All the clues are in there.”

  “And I’m sure the team collected them before the building blew.”

  He wasn’t sure of anything, but if treating a likelihood as a truth gave her some peace, he’d run with it.

  The eyes she turned on him ripped his soul from his body. So much pain. “You can’t know that.”

  “You can’t know otherwise.”

  Tension hummed under her skin in a fine trembling. Flames from the fire reflected in her eyes. He didn’t let go of her arm. He really didn’t trust that look in her eyes, and, judging from the way Micah and Tobias were watching her, neither did they.

  The receiver crackled. “We found Travis.”

  “And?”

  “He didn’t make it.”

  Damn. “My condolences to your pack. You lost a strong Alpha.”

  Miri spun around and glared at him. “Why wasn’t I given one of those things? What happened?”

  Because he had a need to spare her from the blunt reality delivered in this kind of situation. He held her arm tighter, pulling her back as the heat of the fire grew. “Travis didn’t make it. They found his body.”

  Her lips compressed.

  Is that why he happens to be on this mission?

  What she’d said in the car came back to him. Shit! Now he was wondering.

  Packs were tight. He was talking about her cousin. She merely gave a jerk of her head and staved off his hug with a cold “He’ll be missed.”

  Tobias frowned.

  Micah motioned to the gathering crowd. “Unless you can cloak our presence along with your energy, we’ve got to get out of here before someone bumps into us and discovers their nightmares are real.”

  “I hear you.”

  At the same time, Jared grunted into the transceiver, “Pull back.”

  Weres faded back along the perimeter, Jared among them, his energy visible only to Jace. They needed to fall back, too. The crackle of the fire sounded like Sanctuary laughter in his ears. He stared at the wall of flame, the ache of loss growing. His daughter might have been in there. Might have spent the last five months playing within those walls, learning about the world, making smiles and tears without her parents. Son of a bitch, the people who had her had better have made sure there were more smiles than tears in her life.