Fields of Thunder

by Aliyah Burke

  Chapter Eleven

  “Klaus,” Roz called out. “I warned you about eating my shoes. Damn dog.” She stomped from the bedroom then down the stairs to where the dog lay by Altair’s feet. “I know you’re not sleeping, mutt. These were my Louis Vuittons.” She tapped him on the nose with it.

  “Your what?” Altair asked.

  “Shoes. Your dog ate my fourteen hundred dollar, baby goat leather platform sandals.” She shook it at him, well, what remained of the only one to not be inside a Rottweiler’s belly at the moment.

  “He is our dog, and you said leather.”

  “I said baby goat leather, and I don’t give a damn. He needs to leave them alone.” She stomped her foot.

  “You told me when we brought him home, if we did not want things destroyed, to keep them out of his reach.”

  Klaus huffed and rested his head on Altair’s booted foot.

  “You know what? You’re right. And they would have been upstairs in the closet where he couldn’t get to them except when I came home last night, someone bent me over the couch and fucked me until I couldn’t remember my own name. I left a trail of clothing from down here to the bedroom.” She slammed the remainder of her shoe before him. “So you owe me a new pair of shoes.” She leaned close to him. “And not from where you shop. I want this pair back. They were a pair of my lucky courtroom shoes.”

  He gulped. “Fourteen hundred?”

  “That’s what they were. I don’t care if they’re twenty-four hundred. I want my shoes replaced.” She forced a smile and backed away. “Now, I’m heading to work.”

  “Without shoes?” He pointed at her feet.

  “No, my shoes are in my bag. Louboutins.”

  “Is that not the same designer of this pair?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. There is a huge difference. I’m leaving and you keep him out of my shoe collection.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “Smart ass. Bye, Klaus.” Pivoting on her stockinged feet, she headed for the door, pausing only to reach in her bag and put on her shoes.

  At work, she parked and went to her office only to find there were two cops waiting for her. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked, opening the door to wave them in her space.

  “Officers Menkin and Trace, Ms. Hill.”

  She hung up her purse and took her chair while Mellie brought everyone some coffee. “Thanks, Mellie.” She enjoyed a sip before repeating her question.

  “We need to ask you some questions about one of your clients.” The one identified as Officer Trace made the statement.

  Her protectiveness rose like the sun cresting the horizon in the morning, swift and unstoppable. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you gentlemen about attorney–client privilege.”

  They nodded. “This is about Wendy Simmons. Does the name ring a bell to you?” Officer Menkin posed the question.

  The tightness in her chest was as pleasant as a car crash. “Yes,” she replied calmly.

  Wendy had been a domestic abuse victim. Roz had been her attorney when they’d faced her abusing ex in court and she’d had put him away for years. He hadn’t been on her radar because he still had six years left on his sentence.

  Officer Menkin pushed a picture across the desk. “Is this her?”

  Roz reached for the four by six and stared at the image. It was a headshot stopping right below the chin. The long blonde hair and those baby blues were familiar. What also held the distinct bite of familiarity was the vacancy in those eyes. She was dead.

  “Yes,” she answered, proud her voice didn’t crack. “What happened to her?”

  “We were hoping you could help us with that.” Officer Trace sipped his drink.

  “How did she die?”

  The men exchanged looks before Menkin spoke. “She was garroted.”

  Bile churned in her gut like she was tossing chum overboard. “Suspects?”

  “Not at this time. It’s why we came to you. We hoped you would be able to give us some names.” Officer Trace’s voice sounded like it came from a bit farther away.

  “How did you know to contact me?”

  “You were listed as her emergency contact.”

  She jerked her head up from the picture. “I was?” A slight shake of her head. “She never told me she was putting me down for that. When did this happen?”

  “Early this morning—she was found in an alley.”

  “Where’s Brenn?”

  The men looked at each other again. “Who’s Brenn?” Menkin posed the question.

  “Her son.”

  “She had a son?”

  Roz had shoved back from her desk and was moving to her purse. “Yes. I have to find him. I will be down later to claim her things.”

  “You’re putting him with social services?”

  “I will take him to a place I know he is safe. If someone killed his mother, he needs to be protected.”

  “And where is that place?” Trace asked.

  “The same place I grew up, Tennesol Winery. You will find that Lian Yang has been fostering kids since the seventies. The state knows him well and has no problem placing kids there. There are times we put them there until we find what to do with them. Brenn will go there and he will be safe.” She heard the promise in her own voice.

  “We’ll need to question him.” Menkin again.

  “Set it up with his advocate or Mr. Yang.”

  “And who’s that?”

  “That will be me, Officer Trace. I will be his advocate. I will be in touch. Please, Mellie, see them out. Cancel the rest of my day.” She hurried down the stairs to her car. Once there she tossed her bag in and sat in the seat, ingesting deep gulps of air.

  As she drove to Wendy’s last known address, she called the prison where her ex had been incarcerated. The call informed her that he was still locked up tight. Then she called Altair.

  “Hello?” His warm voice helped her regain some objectivity.

  “Hey,” she replied. “Look, I left work because there’s something I have to do. I don’t know when I will be home tonight.”

  “What is going on, Roz?”

  “A woman I represented and helped get away from her ex turned up dead this morning. I’m on my way to find her son. If I am successful at that, I will take him out to Lian’s. Then, depending on the time, I will head back to the police station and pick up her personal belongings.”

  “The one who beat her?”

  “Is still in prison, I called to check that before I called you.” She drummed her fingers on the wheel as she waited for the light to change.

  “They have no leads?”

  “None. They came to me hoping to get some. They didn’t even know about Brenn.” She shifted into first and headed on.

  “You will call me if I can be of help to you.”

  “I will. How goes your work?”

  “Good. Klaus likes to be right underfoot.”

  “He probably thinks if you go out of sight, you may never come back to him. He’ll calm down the more he gets used to the routine.”

  “Call me with updates.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, teasing him, then she hung up.

  When she pulled into the apartment complex, she shuddered. This was no place for a child to grow up. She got out and locked her vehicle before heading for the door. Catcalls and whistles accompanied her. Three men blocked her from actually entering the building.

  “Who are you here to see?” the middle one asked.

  “My client.” She held his gaze. “I have no intentions of being late. Excuse me.”

  “Polite and sexy as fuck. Are you a lawyer?” His question was met with laughter.

  “Yes.” She pushed by them, taking advantage of their surprise to make it through. She used her speed to get up to the third floor swiftly, moving past anyone at a blur so they would just think it was wind. That, of course, was assuming they weren’t passed out drunk.

  Stopping be
fore the door, she tried the knob. Locked. She looked up and down the hall before putting her shoulder into it and gaining entry. “Brenn?” she asked, going to check all the doors. It was a one bedroom with a bathroom but she had no clue where he might be hiding.

  She hid her shudder as she kicked away a large roach. “Brenn? It’s me, Roz Hill. I am your mom’s lawyer. Do you remember me?”

  Her sign flared and she followed its direction and went back to the kitchen. She opened the lowest cupboard and crouched down to look in. Brenn sat as far back as he could get, his eyes wide with fear. She picked out blood on his shirt and hoped to God he’d not had to witness his mother’s murder.

  “Do you remember me, Brenn?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.

  He sucked his thumb and nodded his head.

  She smiled. “Wonderful. Can you come out of there?”

  A furious negative motion of his head.

  Trusting her sign to warn her if anyone was nearing, she focused on the boy. “Why not? We have to get you somewhere safe.”

  He started to reach for her, only to retreat back and shake his head again.

  “Okay,” she muttered. “Another tactic.” Putting her knees on her purse, she clasped her hands together. “How long have you been hiding in there? A long time I bet. Are you hungry?”

  A solemn nod.

  “I thought as much. If you come out, we can go get something to eat. What do you say? Is it a deal? Whatever you want to eat.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “I love ice cream,” she said conspiratorially. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

  He shrugged.

  “I know a place where they have lots of flavors. You can try them before you decide. They even have candies and other things to go on the top. What do you say?”

  He moved toward her. She didn’t flinch at the amount of blood on his shirt, just opened her arms. He shuffled into them and wrapped his arms around her neck.

  “They killed my momma.”

  * * * *

  “What if I want to go and do it? They killed my friends in North Carolina.” Haley slammed her fist into the wall before staring at the hole she’d made.

  “According to you, everyone is your friend.” The dry comment was made by a large man who lounged half in, half out of his massive chair. “For a reason I can’t even begin to fathom.”

  “Because I live down there in the world. I grew up down there, Father. I don’t spend my days lording above everyone. I’m down there working to get this outcome you’ve been hoping for to come to fruition. Again, not sitting up here.”

  “Daughter or not, you disrespect me again and I will slit you open so the others can feed on your insides.” The warning fell in a dispassionate tone.

  “No you won’t,” she returned. “How could they be so stupid? I gave each place an image of each Guardian.” She tossed up her hands before leaving the open room, muttering to herself.

  He was always amazed when she didn’t heed him, but then she never had, so by now he should be used to it. Haley had a fire in her he liked more than he cared to begin admitting. Nothing was supposed to affect him like this did. Despite all that, he couldn’t ignore how her lust for blood and power gave her a dedication and focus most of the other human scum they used couldn’t even begin to touch.

  “You are getting soft.”

  He hissed as he whipped his head around to face the one who’d encroached upon his sanctuary. Cheza.

  “You should mind your own damn business and stay out of mine.”

  Fangs flashed as Cheza lowered herself into a spindly chair designed to hold a weak-bodied human. She flicked her midnight-colored hair over one shoulder even as it changed to a violet purple. “You are looking at me like I am your next meal, Hara.” She showed him her fangs again. “Do not make that mistake. While I may be in human form, I do not stay that way.”

  “Why are you here, Cheza?” He watched her carefully, unsure and untrusting of her motives. The truce between him and his kind was tenuous at best—they’d been brought together solely to combat Their keeper.

  She stretched, her limbs long and sinuous. “Why do I have to need something?”

  “Because we don’t like one another,” he growled. Rising from his chair, he held her gaze. “We were created to kill one another. So explain to me why you are sitting in my area as a naked human.”

  She dragged her hand over her breast and played with the nipple. He snarled low, his patience coming to a swift end. “I found the one called Trent.” She turned a finger into a claw and pierced the skin of her breast. Blood ran down the otherwise pearlescent organ, drawing his attention.

  “Trent,” he said, uninterested in anything but the red liquid that called to him. The pull was so strong he walked closer to her. He watched it split and roll on either side of her nipple.

  “Yes. He was killed by a Guardian. The one they call Roz.”

  Annoyance hit again. “The annoying one. So damn chipper, even as she is decapitating my soldiers.”

  “That’s her.” She smeared some of the blood over the nipple itself, the tip beading and tightening.

  His cock began to grow, swelling and rising from where it had been resting against his leg. “What about her?”

  “She is with a man now—her mate.”

  He waved a hand. “Yes, yes. And they have their artifact.” Hara tore his gaze from the blood and focused on Cheza’s face. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I know of a way to get to her mate and her.”

  He drew up short. “What is it you are after, Cheza? You know how to get her, then do so.”

  “I need you to grant me something first.” She plumped her breast. Red coated her fingers as the wound continued to bleed.

  “Why me?”

  “Because the person I need is one of yours.” She rose from the chair, striding toward him, hips and breasts swaying. He was sure it would be an attractive sight for many humans, a naked woman walking toward them. For him, all his focus was on the blood.

  “What’s in it for me?” he asked, stroking his cock as she neared.

  Cheza dragged a finger through the smear on her breast and sucked it clean. “This.”

  That was enough for him. “Done,” he thundered as he yanked her close and clamped his mouth around the wound, ingesting the blood. Cheza’s was unlike anyone else’s. He could feel his power sing as he gulped hers down. Nothing else mattered, not even the hand she put at the back of his head or the fact she lowered her body onto his cock and began to fuck him. He wanted the blood.

  * * * *

  “Thank you for coming over to do another check-up on him,” Altair said, holding the door open to allow Mal entrance. Behind her was Billy, who gave him a stiff nod.

  “’Tis my pleasure. I love the fact you rescued a dog.” She patted him on the arm as she walked by. “Where is he?”

  “Outside right now. I will bring him in.”

  He shut the new front door then went to the back where he swiped the leash off the chair by the door. Klaus was waiting and soon he was lying on the floor while Mal tended to him.

  “How is Roz?” Billy asked, as he watched from across the room, not wanting to make Klaus any more nervous.

  “Busy,” Altair replied. He kept his hand on the Rott the entire time.

  Mal laughed as she pushed back to her feet. “You men, canna e’er just say nice things to one another. You should learn to get along. You’ll be seeing a lot of one another. Klaus is doing fine. He’s on the road to recovery. We just need to get some more weight on him.”

  “Thank you,” he said with another pat to the dog before he, too, stood.

  She looked at the table and gasped. “What happened to her shoe?”

  Altair crossed his arms. “Klaus ate it.”

  She picked it up, rotating it to see the full extent of the damage. “I see that. Oh hell, she must be beside herself. She truly loves animals, for if it had been any one of us, I think we wou
ld be dead.”

  “I am ordering her a new pair.”

  A sharp whistle left Mal. “That is gonna cost you a pretty penny.”

  “More than that,” Billy chimed in. “I know about her obsession with shoes. I have moved her a few times now. All those damn shoe boxes. Don’t know how you put up with it, man.” He stepped up to the table. “What are these? Milolo whatevers?”

  Altair watched Mal roll her eyes and shake her head at her mate’s lack of understanding.

  “That would be Manolo, Billy,” she said. “Manolo Blahnik. And no, these are Vuittons.” A chuckle. “Or were, as the case may be.” She put her doctor’s bag on the table. “Did you find them?”

  “No.”

  “Want some help?”

  “You sure you do not mind?”

  “Please, it would be my pleasure.” She reached into her bag and withdrew her iPad. “This will just take me a minute.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked them both. When they answered, he went to grab their drinks, taking a look in the living room at Klaus, who again was sleeping.

  Billy joined him and as they began talking, Altair realized Mal was correct. They did need to learn to get along.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I thinks I want that one.” Brenn pointed at the chocolate ice cream with electric blue stripes in it. “And the chocolate candies on top.”

  “One scoop,” she said to the man behind the counter. “Did you want a cone or a bowl?”

  When he looked up at her, the pain in his eyes broke her heart. “Like you.”

  “In a waffle cone cup, please.”

  The man nodded and got to work. She placed her order and in a very short time, she and Brenn sat outside as they ate their ice cream.

  He was subdued by the time he’d finished it and she wasn’t surprised. She carried him to her car and strapped him in the back. She’d called a friend at the fire department who had brought a car seat for him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you somewhere safe while I find out what happened to your mother.”