Destiny Kills

by Keri Arthur

He gave me a crooked smile that was filled with little boy cheekiness, and yet there was nothing innocent about the desire and need in his eyes. “To be honest, no. But you lost a lot of blood today and no matter how you feel or how well that wound has healed, you’re still looking a little pale. You need to rest, not exert yourself even more.”

  I raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing my lips. “Might be my one and only offer.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “See, there’s that arrogance coming to the fore again.”

  “Go get changed, then I’ll tell you about our plans for tomorrow.”

  I gave a theatrical sigh, and he chuckled lightly and pushed me toward the door. “Trust me, sweetheart, this restraint is only going to last as long as your recovery. Enjoy it while you can.” He tossed me the T-shirt. “Use that to dry yourself.”

  I went. After stripping off his jacket, I toweled myself dry and dragged on the underclothing, jeans, and sweatshirt he’d bought. The man was a good judge of women’s sizes, because they all fit like a glove. I shoved the jacket back on, not only because the night was getting colder, but it smelled so good, and headed back out.

  His gaze swept down my length, and an approving sort of smile touched his lips. “Now, that’s what I call a hip-hugging pair of jeans.”

  “One has to wonder how many girlfriends you’ve had over the years to be able to judge a woman’s size so well.” I tossed the empty plastic bag and damp T-shirt on the bench, then began to finger-comb my hair.

  “Ain’t denying there’s been a few.” He shrugged. “I’m a man. That’s what men do.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting to being a whore?”

  “Nope. Just oversexed.”

  “Says the man who recently said no.”

  “Hey, that was consideration. A rare event you should appreciate, not sneer at.”

  I gave a disdainful sniff. “I believe you promised to share your plans for tomorrow once I was dressed.”

  He caught my arm and tugged me closer. “The house is up for sale—”

  “She’s selling? That can’t be a good thing.”

  “And maybe she simply wants a smaller house,” Trae said, amusement in his eyes. “Trust me, she’s not living in some little beach shack.”

  “Maybe.” But I couldn’t help feeling that it did mean something. Or was that simply my pessimistic half coming to the fore again, and refusing to believe anything could actually go right for a change?

  “So her selling the house helps us how?”

  “You and I are going to play newlyweds doing a little house hunting.” His lips were so close to mine his breath teased my lips with warmth. “Think you can manage that?”

  I snuggled closer, pressing my hips against his, even as I pursed my lips. “I don’t know. That could take more acting skills than I’ll possess tomorrow.”

  “What can I do to convince you it’ll be worthwhile?”

  He dropped a kiss first on my left cheek, then on my right, and finally on the tip of my nose. Frustration and warmth shivered through me.

  “You could stop teasing and just get down to business.”

  “That depends on what you mean by business.” His blue eyes were bright with mischief and desire and something else, something that seemed to fire right through my soul, setting it alight.

  “Will you just kiss me, idiot?”

  He took possession of my lips even before the last word left my mouth, taking them, tasting them. Claiming them in a way that was all male, all possession, all desire. No one had ever kissed me like that. No one. Walking into the sea tonight might have felt like a homecoming, but in very many ways, so did this kiss.

  And for all that I kept saying that I couldn’t afford to get more involved with this man than I already was, I couldn’t force myself to break away, either. I needed this man’s kiss, his taste, his closeness, almost as much as I had needed the sea earlier.

  A sharp buzzing ripped through the silence, breaking our kiss, making me jump and my heart race. Trae swore and instantly turned off the flashlight, plunging us into darkness.

  “What was that?” I said, my voice a strained whisper.

  “The early warning system.” He moved quickly but silently across to the window. “Someone’s broken the beam.”

  I peered over his shoulder. The night was dark and the only thing that seemed to be moving were the tree branches, tugged about by the sharpening breeze.

  And yet . . .

  Was that a darker shape near the gate? Was it a car, or just my overwrought imagination?

  I squinted, but couldn’t make it out clearly enough. It was simply too far away.

  “Could a cat or dog have set the alarm off?”

  He shook his head. “I set it higher up the post so that wouldn’t happen.” He looked at me. “Gather all the food. We’re getting out of here.”

  I spun around and walked back to the bench. After sweeping the food into several plastic bags, I grabbed the laptop and the discarded T-shirt.

  “Okay, got everything.”

  “I hid the car round the back of the property, near a broken part of the fence—”

  “You really do believe in always being prepared, don’t you?”

  “A good thief always has his escape routes planned.” He glanced at me, eyes bright and dangerous. “Take the path along the cliff top and follow it until you reach the fence line. The car is hidden in the trees a hundred or so yards from there.”

  “And what will you be doing?”

  “Following our trackers and ensuring they can’t follow us.”

  “Via another accidental fire?”

  His sudden grin was a fearsome thing. “No. I think we might have attracted enough attention with our stunt yesterday. Besides, it’s night. Go, Destiny.”

  I went, slipping out the back door and into the stillness of the night. Though it wasn’t really still, not with the wind tugging at the bushes and whistling through the trees that surrounded the old house.

  I kept to the deeper shadows, slipping around the building quickly and quietly. Once beyond the protection of the house, the wind grabbed at me, pushing me forward, seeming to hurry me along even as it slapped and rustled the plastic bags I was carrying.

  But held within the fingers of the wind came the purr of an engine. No lights pierced the night, but the crunch of tires against the stone that lined the driveway was unmistakable. And it was getting closer.

  Fear gave my feet wings. I practically flew across the open ground, barely watching where I was going, trusting to instinct and the surety of my big feet as my gaze roamed the darkness.

  Movement caught my eye. Was that the shadow of a man slipping through the trees to my left?

  I didn’t stop to look. Didn’t dare. It was probably Trae, anyway—air dragons could move with the speed of the wind when they wanted to.

  The sudden sharpness of salt riding the breeze warned of the closeness of the cliff face. I looked forward, saw land give way to the blackness of night and the starry horizon, and swerved left, following what looked like a goat track. I hoped Trae did whatever it was he had to do in a hurry so we could just get out of here. The car at the gate might not be my pursuers—it might just be the cops doing their rounds, or something equally innocent—but instinct suggested that it probably was.

  The wind suddenly gusted and in the sharpness of the air came the sudden sound of a footstep.

  And it was close. Too close.

  I swung around. Saw the looming shadow, the arms outstretched. The pungent smell of chloroform grew suddenly thick in the night, the scent coming from the cloth the man held in one hand. My skin burned at the very thought of letting it get near me.

  When used on humans, chloroform slowed down their central nervous system as well as put them out. On us, it burned like acid. But it also happened to be one of the few drugs that could knock us out fully.

  I backpedaled fast and swung the plastic bags of food as hard as I could. One
bag broke, spewing cans and packaged cakes across the path, but the other took the stranger hard in the gut.

  He grunted, but lunged past the bag, his free hand grabbing, searching for purchase of any kind. And the chloroform waited.

  I chopped down with my hand, smashing away his fingers, then spun, lashing out with a bare heel. The blow took him in the chin, forcing him back.

  But not stopping him.

  He regained his balance and shook his head, a wry grin stretching his thin lips. “Got a bit of fight in you for a change, hey, little fish?”

  His accent was American, not Scottish. But then, very few of the scientists had been Scottish.

  “I’ve always had fight in me. Your kind have just never seen it.”

  He took a step forward. I took one back, watching his eyes carefully, balancing on my toes as I waited for the leap that would undoubtedly come.

  His smile grew. “The night clouds your judgment and slows your actions. It’s the reason we caught your mother. It’s the reason we’ll recapture you.”

  He lunged even before he’d finished speaking. I spun away, out of his reach, then swung the other bag and smashed it against the back of his head. There was a crack, and a spurt of blood, and he staggered forward. The wind chose that moment to gust, pushing him farther, harder, toward the cliff face. There was a moment when he teetered, when his arms flailed and the realization he was about to fall hit him. I could have stepped in then, could have pulled him back and saved him.

  I didn’t.

  He fell into the darkness with a scream, and all I could feel was relief.

  Chapter Eight

  When the screaming abruptly stopped, I gathered what I could of the fallen groceries, shoving them in the other plastic bags until they, too, were threatening to break, then hurried on.

  I couldn’t feel guilty over what I’d done. Not when I could remember what they’d done to me, and Egan, and my mom. Not to mention the little ones.

  Did that give me the right to idly stand by and watch a man fall from a cliff when I could have easily saved him? Probably not.

  But I still couldn’t get worked up about it. And if that made me a bad person, then so be it. I could live with that.

  One of the plastic bags slapped heavily against my shin, and I tripped, going down hard, my knees hitting a rock and sending a shock of pain that reverberated right up to my brain. I cursed softly and sat there for a moment, catching my breath and trying to stop the instinctive need to get up and keep running.

  I couldn’t afford to panic. Besides, what would it gain me other than more damn bruises?

  I pushed to my feet and hobbled along the faint path. Eventually, the pain in my knees subsided. I found the fence and followed it to the left, finding the trees and the car. It was locked, so I deposited the bags and the laptop near the trunk, then shook my hands to get the blood circulating through my fingers as my gaze swept the night.

  No sign of Trae.

  No indication that anything or anyone was moving through the night.

  I bit my lip and shifted my weight from one foot to the other, fighting the instinct—no, the need—to go back out there and see if he needed help.

  But he was right when he’d said earlier that they weren’t looking for him. If I went out there, it would only make things worse.

  Although my would-be captor had screamed as he’d fallen. Would the wind have snatched the sound away, or would those who’d come with him have heard it?

  I didn’t know, and it was as frustrating as ever.

  Needing to do something, I walked to the edge of the trees. This area near the cliff was higher than the house, so it provided a good vantage point from which to view the surrounds. There was no one moving down there. No dark shadow of a car. Nothing to indicate there was another soul breathing in the night besides me.

  Yet that man hadn’t come from thin air. And he surely wouldn’t be alone. They never were. There was always one who hung back, armed and ready to take action if needed. . . .

  Goose bumps ran across my skin and the hairs along the back of my neck stood on end. I swung around, saw a broad chest covered in a brown sweatshirt, then he was on me, grabbing me, his arm locking around my throat as he tried to raise a stinking white rag to my nose and mouth.

  I twisted in his grip and bit his arm as hard as I could. The chloroform-soaked rag hit my neck and shoulder instead of my face, and instantly my skin began to burn. Pain surged, and a scream ripped up my throat. But I used the energy of that pain to bite harder, and my teeth drew blood, even through the material. My attacker hissed, but didn’t release me, so I stomped down on his toes.

  He cursed and pushed me away. I staggered several steps before I caught my balance, then pivoted on one foot, my heel smashing him in the face as he lunged toward me. He went down hard and didn’t move.

  I left him lying there and ran across to the trunk of the car, upending the plastic bags until I found the bottles of water. After untwisting the cap, I leaned forward and tipped the contents over my neck and shoulder, trying to stop the burning, trying to wash the foul stuff from my clothes. It took three bottles to ease the burning and a fourth before I felt totally safe.

  “Jesus, Destiny, are you all right?”

  The voice came out of the night, scaring the shit out of me. I jumped around, fist raised before I fully realized it was Trae, not another attacker.

  He stopped abruptly and held up his hands. “Whoa. It’s me. You’re safe.”

  “Sorry.” I lowered my hand with a grimace. “But those bastards have a habit of sneaking up on me.”

  “Next time I’ll whistle ‘Dixie’ before I get within punching distance.” He glanced at the man on the ground, then back at me. “What happened to your neck?”

  “They tried to chloroform me.” I grabbed another bottle but this time drank it. My mouth felt drier than the Sahara, and I very much suspected the cause was fear rather than a result of exertion.

  But it wasn’t fear for myself. It was fear for my mom, fear for my dad. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill all the promises I’d made.

  That in the end, I’d have to sacrifice one promise over another, one parent for the other. I needed to get the codes that would free my mom and the kids, but would the cost be not getting to Maine in time to see my dad and say good-bye? To tell him the love of his life was alive, and that she’d meet him on the forever plains? He had to know that before he died. Had to. Otherwise, when his soul answered the call of dawn’s rising, he’d be fated to haunt this reality, forever trying to ease the ache of his heart.

  It was the way of his kind.

  The way of my mother’s kind—even if the ceremonies prayed for the guidance of very different Gods.

  I briefly closed my eyes against the sudden prickle of tears. I could do this. I just had to keep trying, keep believing.

  “Chloroform?” Trae stepped closer and, with gentle fingers, brushed wet strands of hair away from my neck. “That looks more like an acid burn.”

  “Chloroform does that to sea dragons. We’re hyper-sensitive to it.”

  “But why would the scientists even use chloroform? There’s a lot of drugs on the market that are safer and work faster.”

  “But they won’t work on us. Chloroform does. Something to do with our body makeup.” I offered him the water. “Were there any others?”

  He nodded and took the drink. “Two of them. They split off, which is why I’m late getting back here. It was easier to take them out one by one but it took longer.”

  “And what does ‘take out’ mean, exactly?”

  “It means just that. Taking them out of the picture and making sure they can never hurt you—or anyone else—ever again.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was bad enough that I had blood on my hands, but now he did, too.

  “But if the bodies are found here—”

  “They won’t be,” he cut in. “I flew them out to sea. And I seriously doubt a
nyone is going to report them missing. Not if what you’re saying about Marsten is true. He wouldn’t want any investigation happening that could shed serious light on what he’s doing.”

  That was true. I glanced back at the man I’d knocked out. “And what about him?”

  He hesitated. “What do you want me to do about him?”

  “Leave him.”

  “That could be a decision that comes back and bites you in the ass. We don’t know how many more are out there, remember.”

  “I know, but killing in cold blood is different than killing in a fight. I just can’t—”

  “Then we won’t.”

  Relief slithered through me. “What about their car?”

  “I drove it off the property and abandoned it several miles up the road. It’s wiped clean of prints.”

  “Good.” I bent to pick up the scattered groceries. “At least we should be safe from them for a while.”

  “Unless they’ve got another way of tracking you.”

  I glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “You said yourself that you underwent a lot of examinations and operations. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that they’ve got another way of finding you.” He must have sensed the panic that was surging through me, because he smiled and added, “It’s unlikely, but we’ve still got to be aware of the possibility. We can’t afford to relax just yet, that’s all I’m saying.”

  I blew out a breath, then nodded. He slammed the trunk back down, then walked around me and opened the passenger door. “Let’s get moving before that man awakens.”

  “Good idea, Ninety-nine.”

  He snorted. “Do I have breasts and dark hair?”

  “No, but Ninety-nine was the smart one, remember? Although it probably wasn’t hard to be smarter than Maxwell Smart, if the show had been anything to go by.”

  He laughed, slammed the door shut, then ran around to the driver’s side. The sudden brightness of the head-lights as the car started up had me blinking.

  He drove cautiously through the trees, edged the car through a smashed section of fence, then we bumped our way along a barely-there track, moving through the dunes and grasses for what seemed like ages.