The Warrior

by Sharon Sala

  Sensing her gaze on him, he looked at her and winked, which made her want him all over again.

  “You’re a madman, aren’t you?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Not mad…just a little bit uncivilized.”

  She just shook her head, grabbed hold of the seat belt and held on.

  They reached the outskirts of Sedona a short while later. John took her straight to the art gallery and introduced her to the owner, a woman he’d known for years named Sasha Macklin.

  Sasha had started out trying to earn a living as a painter years ago but quickly came to the conclusion that she would make more money selling other people’s art, rather than her own. She’d had the business for almost thirty years now and loved what she did.

  She’d met John twenty-five years ago, when she was a size eight and her long red hair was thick and wavy. Now her hair was short and gray, and her eight had turned into eighteen, although she didn’t really care. She always laughed, claiming she’d earned every gray hair and every pound she was carrying, and was proud of them.

  But when John Nightwalker walked into her gallery, the first thing she thought was that she was seeing a ghost. It had been almost fifteen years since she’d seen him, although they talked now and then on the phone. But looking at him coming in the door with a tall, dark-haired woman on his arm gave her a twinge of regret. The woman was probably somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. Just the age she’d been when they met.

  John saw her eyes widen and could only imagine what she was thinking. Still, there was no getting around the obvious.

  “Hey, lady…I’m looking for a good deal.”

  Sasha pushed herself up from behind her desk, opened her arms and hugged him.

  “You crazy Indian…are you still driving like a bat out of hell?”

  Alicia grinned. The woman obviously knew him well.

  “Sasha, I want you to meet someone. A—Lisa, this is Sasha Macklin. Sasha…Lisa.”

  Alicia realized immediately why he hadn’t called her by her name. The name Alicia Ponte was something of a lightning rod these days. No need to let the whole world know where she was.

  “Sasha, I’m so pleased to meet you. John told me you had the best art gallery in Sedona. I can’t wait to see the displays.”

  Sasha beamed. Praise for her first love always made her happy.

  “It’s the truth, if I say so myself. Look your fill, Lisa.”

  Alicia nodded, then slipped off for a closer look at a grouping of small sculptures, giving John some alone time with a woman who was obviously an old friend.

  Sasha eyed John up and down, as if she were judging a piece of art, then shrugged.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Nightwalker, but you haven’t aged a day since we met.”

  John just shook his head and hugged her again. “You’re being too kind,” he said. “So tell me, what’s been happening with you?”

  Sasha snorted. “Nothing is what’s happening, but that’s okay with me. Men are too much trouble to mess with these days.”

  He laughed. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she looked at him again. Impulsively, she put her hand on his face, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin.

  “Seriously…how do you do it?”

  “Would you believe I’m immortal?”

  She rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm. “Just like a man. Ask a serious question, get a bullshit answer.”

  He smiled. “What can I say?”

  She sighed. “So let’s go join your lady friend—who, by the way, looks suspiciously like the pictures I saw of that Ponte woman.”

  John’s smile slipped.

  “Don’t worry,” Sasha said quickly. “I learned a long time ago how to keep my mouth shut. She’s in a hell of a fix, isn’t she…having her father turn out to be a traitor and all? I don’t know if I’d have the guts to do what she did.”

  John looked at Alicia, who was moving slowly along the length of one wall while gazing at the paintings Sasha had hung there.

  “She’s a constant source of amazement,” he said softly.

  Sasha sighed. She was too old to feel jealous, but there had been a time in her life when she would have killed to have him look at her the way he was looking at Alicia.

  “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  John was a little startled to hear it said outside of his own thoughts. Then he shrugged.

  “It’s beginning to feel like it.”

  Sasha patted him on the arm. “Even if she’s a little young for you, I wish you the best.”

  John grinned. Young? Sasha had no idea how right she was.

  “Let’s go join her,” John said, and pulled Sasha along as he hurried to Alicia’s side.

  John slid an arm around Alicia’s shoulders. “See anything you like?”

  She looked up at him, then smiled. “Easier to ask if there’s anything here I don’t like. Everything is amazing.” Then she pointed to a painting to her right. “That one is stunning,” she said.

  Sasha smiled. “Good eye, my dear. That piece was painted by one of my most successful artists. His name is Troy Anderson. He’s Cherokee, and a native of Oklahoma. I have some more of his work in another room. Want to see?”

  “Please,” Alicia said, then slipped her hand beneath John’s elbow. “Do you mind?”

  “Hey…we came here to see art. So let’s see all there is to see, okay?”

  “Okay,” Alicia said, and followed along, listening and sometimes adding to the conversation between John and Sasha as they did a walk-through of the gallery.

  They were almost back to the front gallery when Alicia saw a set of photos hanging on a wall just inside what appeared to be an office. Almost immediately, she realized John was in one of them.

  “Hey!” she said. “That’s you, isn’t it?” She pointed toward the photo as she stepped inside the room.

  “Wait!” John said, but it was too late. She was already there.

  Sasha frowned at him, then followed them in. She didn’t see what the big deal was. The woman could hardly be jealous. The picture had been taken the weekend she and John met, which was probably before Alicia Ponte had even been born.

  Alicia was standing before the photo, frowning. Something was out of kilter about it, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Then all of a sudden, it hit her. The hair and clothes. They were seriously out of style. She pointed to the photo, smiling.

  “Hey, John, what was the occasion? A costume party?”

  Sasha burst out laughing. “No, honey. That was the height of fashion in the eighties. I distinctly remembered shopping for hours before I settled on that minidress. As for my hair…what can I say? I had myself a real Farrah Fawcett flip going on, didn’t I?”

  Alicia stared at the photo, trying to make sense of what Sasha had just said. “I’m sorry. Are you in the picture, too?”

  Sasha pointed. “I know I’ve changed, but hey…it’s been twenty-five years.”

  Alicia’s heart began to beat so hard and fast that she felt dizzy. This couldn’t be right. That pretty redhead in the photo was Sasha—twenty-five years ago?

  She turned to John, unaware of the look of shock on her face.

  He held his breath, not sure what to expect.

  Alicia looked from Sasha to John, then back at the photo, before suddenly turning around and walking out of the office.

  John frowned. This wasn’t good. He glanced at Sasha, who shrugged, as if to say, How can you blame her? and hurried after her.

  “Alicia…baby?”

  She stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

  The expression on her face was calm. He didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Uh, you just walked out so quickly, I thought you were upset.”

  “Who? Me? Upset? Why would I be upset?” she asked, unaware that her voice was rising with each word she spoke.

  John flinched. Damn.
“You tell me,” he said.

  She doubled up her fists, resisting the urge to slug him. “I don’t know what to say, what to think, what to do. Have I fallen in love with a gorgeous sixty-something…or do you have another big round of bullshit to explain this away, as well? Oh, wait. Let me guess. That same Tibetan monk who taught you how to heal yourself also gave you the secret to eternal youth.”

  “This date isn’t going as well as I expected.”

  She rolled her eyes and then spied Sasha standing in the hall behind them. She shifted gears so fast that John’s head was spinning as she stepped past him and retraced her steps with her hand outstretched.

  “Sasha…I have to say that you have a wonderful array of Native American and Southwestern art. And, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. However, we have a couple of errands to run before we head back home, so I know you’ll understand that we need to go now.”

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, too,” Sasha said, then gave the younger woman an impulsive hug. “I don’t know why I did that,” she said as she gave her a quick pat and let her go. “You just looked like you could do with a hug.”

  Alicia smiled. “Thank you. A person can never get too many hugs.” Then she turned around and walked past John without speaking.

  He sighed. So much for a change of pace. They were right back to square one, with distrust and anger.

  “It was good to see you again,” he told Sasha.

  “It was good to see you, too.” Then she added, “Better take care of that one. I think she’s a keeper.”

  John nodded and hurried on out to the Jeep. When he got there, Alicia was already buckled up and waiting. She wouldn’t look at him, and he didn’t know what to say to make things better.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She looked at him as if he’d just lost his mind, then burst out laughing.

  “Actually, man of mystery, I am. So feed me something hot and spicy. Then we’ll buy our groceries and head for home.”

  Now he knew he was out of his league. This woman kept blindsiding him time and time again.

  “I know this really good Mexican place….”

  “Works for me,” she said, then added, “Just so you know, you have not slipped by this. I just chose not to discuss the fact that I’ve fallen in love with a man my father’s age and didn’t know it. And…the big deal is not your real age. It’s that you didn’t tell me.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, and backed the Jeep out of its parking place and headed down the street.

  The meal had gone down well. The errands had been run. Groceries were on the back floorboard of the Jeep, and, to keep them from spoiling, John had rolled up the windows and turned on the air conditioner for the ride home.

  This leg of the journey wasn’t as carefree as the first half had been, but even considering everything that had happened, he was still fairly confident of the outcome.

  Alicia was reading a story from one of the several newspapers they’d picked up when John suddenly hit the brakes and began slowing down. That brought her attention from the paper to the reason they were no longer driving at warp speed.

  “What’s happening?” she asked as she looked out the window.

  “That car up ahead. It just swerved completely off the highway into the ditch, then back onto the road again. I think the driver is either falling asleep, drunk or sick. Impossible to tell which.”

  “Oh, no!” Alicia said, and then gasped as the car began a repeat version of what John had just witnessed.

  This time, though, the driver didn’t pull back onto the road or even slow down. The car sailed over the ditch, hit a large boulder a few yards away from the road and then rolled end over end until it came to rest upside down.

  “Damn it!” John said.

  Seconds later they reached the place where the car had left the highway. He slammed the car into Park and handed Alicia his cell phone.

  “We just passed southbound mile marker 123 a few moments ago. Call 911!”

  Alicia’s hands were shaking as she punched in the numbers, while John jumped out of the Jeep, leaped the ditch and started running.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” a dispatcher asked.

  “We just saw a car go off the road, southbound on the highway out of Sedona. We’re just past mile marker 123. I don’t know how many people are in the car, but it rolled over twice before landing upside down.”

  “Is the highway blocked?” the dispatcher asked.

  “No. But hurry,” Alicia begged. “The car is starting to smoke.” Then she gasped. “Dear God. It just burst into flames.”

  “I’m dispatching fire and rescue services as we speak. Stay on the line.”

  But Alicia was already out of her seat and digging through the back of the Jeep. She’d seen a fire extinguisher in there when they were loading up the groceries in Sedona. Shoving sacks aside right and left, she finally found it. Her heart was in her throat as she ran, because just before the car had started burning, she’d seen John crawl inside. Now the flames were blazing from beneath the hood. Smoke was everywhere, and she couldn’t see John.

  “John!” she screamed. “John! Where are you? Get out! Get out!”

  The moment John reached the wreck, he saw the driver. The window was broken out on that side, so he dropped to his belly and began crawling inside. He was halfway in when he realized the driver was a woman with short dark hair. She was unconscious, and bleeding from a large number of cuts on her face and arms. She was also dangling upside down, still strapped in by her seat belt.

  “Lady! Lady! Can you hear me?” he yelled, but she didn’t answer. He began pulling at the seat belt, trying to undo it, but the latch wouldn’t give.

  He could already smell smoke. There was no time to waste. He pulled the knife out of his boot and slashed the strap in two. The moment she was free, she dropped upside down into his arms. He put the knife blade between his teeth and began backing out, pulling her with him. Suddenly he heard something pop. Within seconds, smoke began coming out from under the hood and sifting through the dash in huge, sweeping billows.

  John grunted and kept on pulling. He kept telling himself not to think about what was happening, just to keep moving. Inch by inch, ignoring pain and fire, he pulled them both backward. Blood was dripping in his eyes, fire licking at his skin and clothing as he dragged her through fire and glass. With mere seconds to go before they were both engulfed, he suddenly felt her slide free.

  Before he could move, they were engulfed in a new kind of smoke. But this time, instead of burning them, it was putting out the flames. The knife fell from his mouth as he rolled over on his back, still holding the woman in his arms. Then he saw Alicia standing over them, holding a fire extinguisher. He groaned aloud, violently shuddering from pain.

  Then, from behind him, he heard a whoosh, followed by a hiss.

  “Run!” he yelled as he got to his feet, then picked the woman back up. “It’s going to explode!”

  Alicia gave him a wild-eyed look, then turned and ran, taking comfort in the sound of his footsteps right behind her. They were about fifty feet from the wreck when it blew, knocking them facedown on the ground. When Alicia could think straight again, she rolled over, then got up.

  John and the woman were a few feet away. The woman wasn’t moving, and John was sitting beside her, holding his arms away from his body. His shirt was charred in so many places that she could barely tell what it had looked like before, and his hands and arms…Dear Lord, they were horribly burned.

  “John! Oh my God…John!” she screamed, and rushed to his side.

  He was shaking so hard he could barely speak. He knew it would pass, but for now, the agony was almost unbearable. He knew Alicia was panicked, but he was in too much pain to reassure her that it was temporary. When she reached toward him, he quickly withdrew.

  “Don’t touch me,” he said, then put his head down on his knees, trying to bring the world back into focus. “The woman…
see if she’s breathing.”

  Alicia didn’t want to leave his side, but she knew he was right. She crawled on her hands and knees to the woman, then put her fingers on the pulse point at the side of her neck. There was a faint but persistent beat.

  “Her heart’s still beating,” she said, eyeing the woman’s injuries, which were too severe for any on-site first aid she might have tried. “There’s some water in the Jeep. I’ll be right back,” she said, and ran as fast as she could across the ditch and up to the side of the road where the Jeep was parked. It wasn’t until she began hunting for water that she realized the engine was still running. She turned it off and pocketed the keys before grabbing a newly bought plastic-wrapped case of bottled water and starting back to John’s side.

  When she got there, he was on his knees beside the woman. He’d undone her blouse and unbuckled her belt, revealing a huge, ugly bruise that was quickly forming in the middle of her abdomen.

  “She may have internal injuries,” he said, and then grabbed a bottle of water from Alicia and started pouring it on the woman’s face in a small trickle, washing away the grit and blood from her face and eyes, then pouring it on the places where she’d been burned, as well.

  Alicia was staring at John as if she were looking at a ghost. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak.

  “Hand me another,” he ordered. “She’s only got a couple of small burns. I shielded most of her body with mine after the car started to burn.”

  When Alicia didn’t respond, he turned to see what was wrong. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she’d been running hard. Her face was dirt-streaked and sweaty, and there was a smear of blood on her arm. But it was the look in her eyes that got his attention.

  “Alicia?”

  “Your burns.”

  Damn.

  He ignored her. “Hand me another bottle of water, please.”

  “They’re almost gone.”

  “Alicia, the water. Please!”

  She blinked as her focus shifted to the task at hand, pulled another bottle out from under the torn plastic wrap and handed it over.