Dark Warrior Unbroken

by Alexis Morgan

  Sandor circled around the Science Center and headed toward the large grassy area surrounded by the ring of buildings. As usual, people were out in number, some sitting on the benches and low walls scattered around the place. Others walked with more purpose as they headed to one event or another. It was hard not to envy so many people having fun plans for the evening.

  Then a familiar sensation warned him he was no longer alone. Good! Rather than whip around to catch a glimpse of his mysterious companion, Sandor took a slow turn along the sidewalk that circled the huge fountain at the heart of the Center. The person ghosting his steps would have to follow, helping him to eliminate the majority of the people in the area. Halfway around, he stopped ostensibly to retie his shoe. Propping his foot on the edge of a bench, he glanced around as he tied the laces. It didn’t take long to spot his stalker.

  Well, I’ll be damned! He stood upright, immediately deciding on a plan of action. This would be fun.

  Okay, Ms. Wilson, two can play cat and mouse. Let’s see how you like it when the mouse goes on the attack.

  He cut across the grass toward the street that bordered the Center on the north, maintaining a leisurely pace until he turned the corner. After a quick glance to make sure she was still following, he picked up speed. He wanted enough distance between them to set a trap, but not so much that she’d lose sight of him before he wanted her to.

  He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her and find out why she was tracking him. Well, that and because he’d been wanting to get his hands on her since he’d laid eyes on her. Considering that long-legged stride of hers and pretty sun-bright hair, how had he missed picking her out of the crowd before now? Thanks to the combined rush of adrenaline and testosterone, he had some serious regrets that this was all about business and not pleasure.

  Though a guy could always hope.

  Around the next corner, he broke into a lope until he reached the entrance to a small neighborhood bar two doors up from an alley. He slipped inside and positioned himself at the side of the front window, where he could watch for Lena without her being able to easily spot him.

  “Hey, mister, we’re not a bus stop. Order something or take a hike.” Ham-fisted and built like a linebacker, the bartender had a face that had survived more than a few barroom brawls. A couple of bikers at the far end of the bar looked up with interest, probably hoping to see their buddy in action.

  Sandor knew he could take the guy, but now wasn’t the time to prove it.

  “I’ll take a scotch on the rocks.” He pulled out two five-dollar bills and tossed them on the bar. “Hold the scotch and the rocks. Keep the change.”

  The bartender and the other two looked at him like he was crazy. Finally, the bartender grinned.

  “Turns out we’re having a special on that tonight.” He pushed a five back across the counter.

  Sandor chuckled and accepted the bill. “Thanks.”

  Back to business. Lena was walking by the window, looking puzzled as she searched for him, clearly unsure how he could have disappeared so quickly. It was time to make his move before his prey could escape.

  Grinning, he slipped outside and pounced.

  The door she’d passed a few seconds ago opened with a soft whoosh. That was all the warning Lena had that Sandor Kearn had turned the tables on her. Before she could react, he had his forearm across her mouth, dragging her into the nearby alley. She should’ve fought him off, but her only coherent thought was wondering how a man his size could move so fast and so silently.

  He half-dragged her down the narrow passageway until they’d passed a Dumpster big enough to hide them from anyone out on the street. If any other man had treated her this way, she would have kneed him or screamed for help as soon as he loosened his hold. She glared up into his gleaming eyes with a mixture of fury and embarrassment over being so easily captured.

  “Let go of me. Now.”

  Instead Sandor moved in closer, deliberately crowding her. Was it temper, or something else causing his dark eyes to glitter in the fading light?

  “I’m not touching you.” He held up his hands to prove his point.

  “Then you won’t mind if I leave.” She stepped to the side to do just that.

  “Actually, I do mind.” He kept her cornered between himself, the Dumpster, and the wall behind her. “So tell me, Lena Wilson: why have you been following me the past couple of days?”

  How did he know it had been her? She was sure he hadn’t seen her before tonight. “I wasn’t—”

  He gently placed his gloved finger across her lips. Shaking his head, he sighed as if sorely disappointed in her. “Tsk, tsk, Ms. Wilson. Want to try that again?”

  “Let me go now, and we can both pretend this didn’t happen.” Although it would be a long time before she could forget the rich smell of his aftershave, combined with the scent of his leather coat. A powerful urge to bury her face against his chest and simply breathe him in washed over her.

  He smiled slowly, and she realized he knew it, the big jerk. She stiffened her shoulders and her resolve.

  “So why were you hunting me, Lena?” he whispered from close by her ear.

  She shivered from the sensation of his breath on her skin. “Hunting? What makes you think I was?”

  “You’re not ready to hear what I think, little girl.” His smile continued to taunt her.

  “I’m no little girl.” And the way he was making her feel right now was very adult. She really needed to put some distance between them.

  But his gaze was fixed on her mouth, and he slowly leaned in so close that once again his warm breath teased her skin. What was he doing? Was he going to kiss her…or not?

  Her world rocked on its axis the second his lips settled over hers. As her ability to think short-circuited, she grabbed on to him to anchor herself. Her fingers clutched his arms, the buttery soft leather of his duster doing nothing to disguise his muscular strength.

  This had to stop! Her protest might have been more effective if it hadn’t come out sounding like a moan. She managed to keep her mouth closed, preventing the kiss from becoming too intimate. That worked right up until he nipped her lower lip with his teeth, hard enough to sting. When she opened her mouth to protest, he slipped his tongue inside. He was careful with her, but he still tasted of temptation and male anger. She tingled from head to toe, as if he’d been bathing her with heat stolen from the sun.

  Sandor murmured to her between kisses, but her mind was too far gone to understand him. His words finally began to make sense as he asked the same question over and over again.

  “Why are you after me, Lena?”

  He was temptation itself, but she managed to hold back the information he was trying so hard to coax out of her.

  She pulled back enough to smile up into those dark chocolate eyes of his. She slowly slid her hands down his arms, then dropped them to her sides, ending the connection between them. “It’s simple, if somewhat embarrassing. I like the way you look walking around town in that duster. I swear, if you could bottle that, you’d make us both rich.”

  It was the truth, just not the truth he was looking for. And…it was hard to tell in the dim light in the alley, but his cheeks looked flushed. Was he actually blushing?

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I—”

  Once again, he stopped her by putting his hand over her mouth. Who the hell did he think he was? She kicked him in the shin, taking satisfaction in his curse as he jumped back.

  “Now if you’ll get out of my way?”

  But he wasn’t listening to her; his attention was focused on the far end of the alley. She strained to hear what had put such a fierce expression on his face.

  There. She heard it. A soft moan, laced with desperation and pain. Someone nearby—a woman or girl by the sound of it—was hurting.

  “Stay here.”

  Sandor changed from sexy to lethal in one second as he stalked away, a gun appearing in his hand. Yeah, well, maybe his commands worked on othe
r women in his life, but not her.

  She waited until he’d gone several feet before pulling her own weapon and fanning out to his left. At the sound of her steps, he shot her a hard look. When he spied her automatic, he frowned but gave her a quick nod.

  They slowly worked their way down the alley, moving in tandem, as if they’d partnered together for years. He stopped every few steps to listen again. Finally, he motioned for Lena to stop while he eased around another cluster of trash cans to kneel by a pile of broken-up cardboard boxes.

  Lena eased closer, trying to see what had caught Sandor’s attention. A shoe lay on its side in a puddle that looked too dark to be water. Then the shoe moved. Holy shit, there was a foot in the shoe, and a nylon-clad leg sticking out from under the pile of boxes.

  Sandor holstered his gun and lifted the pile of cardboard to reveal an injured woman. He stripped off his driving gloves, then reached out to push the woman’s hair off her face. There was a good-sized lump on her forehead. As he ran his fingers down the side of her face, checking for other injuries, the woman moaned and stirred restlessly before lapsing into silence.

  Lena put away her gun and joined Sandor on the ground. “How badly is she hurt?”

  “Bad enough.” He gave Lena an enigmatic look. “While I look her over, check out the rest of the alley in case the bastard who did this is lurking around back there.”

  His suggestion made sense, so why did it feel as if he was trying to get rid of her?

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  “I never expected otherwise.”

  There was a hint of a smile in his voice. She glanced back at him, but he was running his hands down the woman’s arms, looking for the source of what Lena now realized was a pool of blood. Pulling her gun again, she slowly made her way down the alley, wishing she could see better. Other than the occasional beam of light from a window, the alley was bathed in night shadows.

  The empty passage gradually narrowed down and came to a dead end. She rose up on her toes to look in a couple of large trash bins, then started back toward Sandor, checking out other possible locations where the attacker might be lurking.

  As she peeked into an industrial-sized recycling bin, she caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. Whipping around, she brought up her gun. Odd. There was nothing moving, only Sandor rising to his feet.

  “Did you see a flash of light?” she asked.

  “Maybe you saw my cell phone. I was getting ready to call nine-one-one when I heard you coming back.”

  Again, his explanation made sense but didn’t feel right. “How soon will they be here?”

  He held up his phone. “My reception sucks here; I’m going to the street. Can you stay with her?”

  “Will do.”

  Before he got to the end of the alley, she called after him, “And don’t sneak up on me. I wouldn’t want to mistake you for one of the bad guys.”

  His teeth gleamed in the darkness as he grinned at her. “If you promise to kiss where it hurts, I might just let you shoot me.”

  He was still laughing as he disappeared down the alley. If she wasn’t convinced that he and his friends were covering up what they knew about Coop’s death, she’d be sorely tempted to drag him back to her hotel room to see if he looked as good out of his clothes as he did in them.

  The injured woman stirred, her eyes slowly opening. She met Lena’s gaze with a confused look.

  “What happened to me?” she whispered fearfully.

  “It’s okay; you’re safe now. My friend is calling the police and the EMTs.”

  When the woman didn’t seem to understand her, Lena dropped her guard, hoping her heightened senses would help her find a way to soothe the woman’s agitation. Lena grasped her hands, hoping touch would get through where words of comfort hadn’t.

  As soon as their hands met, Lena was yanked out of the present and thrown back in time. With a tearing pain in her head, she was no longer kneeling in the alley, no longer herself. She’d become the injured woman, Mary Dubois, reliving her experiences.

  Trapped in Mary’s mind, Lena found herself walking along the street, hurrying to get home to her family after a tough day at work. She was focused on the bus stop up ahead, hoping to catch the early bus. The people gathered there began lining up, warning her it had pulled into sight.

  Running in heels was never easy, but she was making good time, when out of nowhere, an arm snaked around her neck and jerked her backwards. Her assailant dragged her into the mouth of the alley, gradually increasing the pressure on her throat until she could barely breathe, much less scream for help.

  Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! She was going to die! Her mind filled with the images of her children—a boy and a girl. Then there was a man, her husband, the one she’d been mad at this morning. How could she die, knowing the last words she’d said to him had been so angry?

  Her attacker was taller than she was. That’s all she knew. He wasn’t alone, for another set of footsteps scuffled through the filthy alley. Then a hand covered her eyes and her oxygen-starved body panicked. Flailing her arms, she tried to get her hands on the arm that was slowly killing her. But her mind was growing hazy and strangely calm.

  All sensation faded as the strength in her muscles faded away. Her last memory was pain as her head hit something hard, and then for a short time there was nothing.

  “Damn it, Lena, let go of her!”

  Strong fingers worked to break her hold on the injured woman’s hands. When they succeeded, Lena’s own consciousness came flooding back, identifying the hands pulling her away as Sandor’s.

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  She still couldn’t open her eyes yet. He was angry because he was worried about her. It was there in the gentle way he helped her to her feet.

  “Come on, Lena. Open your eyes and tell me you’re all right.”

  There was a new note in his voice, intense and hot. She was trying to do as he asked, wanting to allay his worries. Before she could manage it, though, he cupped her face with both of his hands. Normally she would have basked in the warmth of his touch, but she hadn’t yet raised her guards to shut out all the sensations that were bombarding her. For a brief second, she flashed back to the dance club fire and the shadow man who’d killed Coop.

  Her stomach lurched at the wave of sick glee that washed through her, leaving her more bewildered than ever. Finally her eyes popped open. Where had that image come from?

  “What the hell?” Sandor dropped his hands away from her face.

  As soon as he stepped back, her mind cleared and she stared at Sandor in horror. For a single instant, the man she had kissed a few minutes ago tasted just like the bastard who had killed Coop.

  Then Sandor caught her face in his hands and stared down into her eyes—and suddenly, all the fear faded away.

  Chapter 5

  The approaching sirens made it impossible for Sandor to do more than a down-and-dirty invasion of Lena’s mind. It took far more power than he expected, to break through her shields and adjust her memories of the past few minutes. As strong as she was, he’d be lucky if his tinkering held long enough for him to get her somewhere safe to try again.

  And he would, even though he knew that if she ever found out, she’d come after him with everything she had. It was too much to hope that she’d understand, or be willing to turn that temper into something equally hot but far more satisfying for the both of them. The flicker of blue lights and screeching tires warned him that now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Too bad.

  The police, weapons drawn, were cautious in their approach. Sandor eased his arm around Lena, hoping that they looked like a couple out for an evening stroll. She stiffened briefly, then relaxed against him. Good girl. The closest officer gave Sandor and Lena a quick once-over before speaking. He kept his gun aimed at Sandor, identifying him as the greater threat.

  “Where’s the victim?”

  “There.” Sandor pointed toward the woma
n who sat blinking up at them.

  The cop knelt by her side, while his partner kept an eye—and his gun—trained on Sandor and Lena. “Was she conscious when you found her?”

  “Not really. She was buried under that pile of cardboard. We never would’ve known she was there if she hadn’t made a sound.”

  “Do you know her?”

  Lena answered, “No, but her name is Mary Dubois. I stayed here while my friend called for help. While he was gone, she woke up enough to tell me her name, but that was all. I don’t know how much she remembers of the attack.”

  Damn it, when had Lena planned on telling him that she’d actually spoken with the woman? When he’d sent Lena down the alley, he’d been able to read only a bit of the woman’s memories, but her thoughts had been too chaotic for him to glean much. He did know her attackers had definitely been Kyth renegades, but she’d given him nothing more to go on. The flash of energy Lena had seen had been his failed attempt to use some of his own store of energy to help stabilize the injured woman.

  As worried as he was about Mary Dubois, he was even more concerned about Lena. What had been going on when he’d found Lena frozen, her hands locked onto Mary’s with such desperate strength? It had been all he could do to break the connection between them. For now he’d blocked Lena’s memories of the event, but he needed to get her to Kerry and Ranulf. They should be able to get past the powerful barriers around Lena’s thoughts.

  Studying her out of the corner of his eye, Sandor liked what he saw. She was athletic, but he was also drawn to her intelligence and the obvious power of her mind. Until he’d met Lena, Kerry Thorsen and the late Dame Judith were the only two women he’d met with such strength.

  If she was Kyth, it was such a faint trace that he couldn’t read it. But there was definitely something different about Lena, something that the average human being lacked.