Kara wasn’t dressed to fly. She wore the long, loose robes as if she were off-duty, a sharp contrast to the women trotting past. Her wings were pulled in, allowing her to keep from brushing against the other Valkyries.
“Kara.”
The familiar voice had her turning toward a doorway.
Laila stood there, a half smile on her lips as she raised her lance in salute.
“Good day to you,” Kara said as she approached her. “How are you doing?”
Laila shrugged, and Kara saw the tension in her shoulders, the taut muscles almost painful to watch. “Just getting ready to leave. You’re not joining us?”
“I have an audience. With Odin and Freyja.” She didn’t want to discuss recent events, her encounter with Brenna and Erik still fresh in her mind. Her abrupt banishment from the field of battle still rankled her, more so when she heard Brenna had not returned and, in fact, had chosen to stay on Earth. There were rumors as to why, but Kara had no time to discuss women ruled by their emotions.
The tall, olive-skinned woman nodded. “Hope it goes well.” She looked skyward, letting out a sigh. Her wings trembled, the multicolored feathers shaking with what Kara could only think was fear—anticipation at going out, again, to collect souls.
“Are you…” Kara paused, unsure how to phrase the question. “Are you well?”
“As much as I can be.” Laila brushed a stray black hair from her cheek. “Some days are just a bit rougher than others.”
“True.” Kara searched to find something to say, to help raise her fellow Valkyrie’s spirit. “Maybe we can talk when you come back, drink some wine and toy with some of the new arrivals.” She grinned. “Especially those who feel they’re equal to sparring with a Valkyrie because they made it to Valhalla. Put a few of them on their behinds.”
“Perhaps.” That earned a full smile, the dark brown eyes sparkling at the idea. “I’m off. See you later.” Laila put her helmet on and moved by Kara, heading for the parapet.
Kara did nothing but watch her sister Valkyrie launch herself into the sky, her multicolored wings opening up to send her skyward. Only after the armored woman disappeared from sight did she turn back to her path—toward the meeting rooms to see Odin and Freyja.
She woke with a start, clutching at the arms around her. Liam came awake immediately, tightening his grip.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured in her ear, giving her a light kiss.
“What time is it?” She drew a ragged breath, the shift in reality twisting her stomach into knots. Her gaze went to the windows, eyes adjusting to the dim lights.
Liam dropped another kiss on her shoulder as he moved to check the clock on the nearby desk. “Nearly seven. Sun should be up soon.”
“And hopefully, the Sons,” she added, playing with his words.
He moved around her, grabbing another kiss before standing up. “There’s a shower in the locker room. I’ll grab a fast one—you chow down, and I’ll be right back.” His smile appeared. “I’m also going to break into the armory, by the way. Marie can be mad at me later.”
She stifled a laugh as he padded out of the room, leaving her amidst the jumbled blankets.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liam scrubbed the last of the shampoo out of his long hair, drawing his fingers through the dark strands. He usually didn’t use a hair dryer, but if they were going to be creeping through the snow to take on the mercenaries, he’d make an exception.
It was a fast shower. He didn’t want to hog all the hot water, and besides, he worried about leaving Kara in the front of the station. She could handle herself to a degree, but she’d never had to face the bloodthirsty animals known as the Sons of Cain.
The name wasn’t just for show. Their reputation was hard and fast and nasty—the danger they presented to the Ridge couldn’t be understated.
Which is why he’d take them out, even if it killed him.
McKay would give a full debriefing, tell them about Kara’s fighting abilities. But he’d also note he cut her, which means they’d be underestimating her ability to move. As far as they were concerned, she was a wounded animal and easy prey.
That they could use to their advantage.
From what he knew from five years ago, the Sons usually traveled in packs—seven, a lucky number. Jamie had confirmed it, giving him some solid data. There’d be more group members, back in the city providing backup and technical support.
Those land lines didn’t go down on their own, and jamming and shutting down the cell phones and computer access was a feat far beyond a single man in a hotel. The ones here in the Ridge would be helping, but the tech wizards were far away, working their magic online.
But it didn’t really matter how many were back in Denver. What counted was how many of them were here.
Seven against two.
He could work with that.
Liam stepped out and reached for the generic gray towel he’d found in the cupboard. It was paper-thin and barely absorbent, but it did the job.
A few minutes more to blow his hair dry and snap it into a tight ponytail, tuck it into the collar as he put the police uniform back on. He caught sight of his reflection and chuckled.
Never thought you’d go this straight. What would the old boys think of the Hammer now?
The old nickname ground against the back of his mind. He’d shed that lifestyle, that persona in hopes of redeeming his soul. Now he had no choice but to embrace it again to save those he’d come to care for.
It was a worthy trade.
He finished dressing and stepped out to find Kara tidying up the small area they’d slept in.
“Better hurry up and get ready.” Liam turned down the hall toward the armory.
Time to find out what toys Marie had under lock and key.
The door lock was easy to pick, giving up her secrets with little fanfare. Liam stepped in and flipped the light on, grateful they still had power in the station.
Marie and Dwayne were experts at using words instead of bullets to rectify a problem. And occasionally the baton would come out, but they kept the peace without firing a shot.
That time was over.
There’d be no reasoning with the Sons.
He took a quick inventory before filling a box and returning to the main room.
Kara came out from the back, fingers working on her still-wet hair as she twisted it.
“What do we have?” She tucked the tight braid inside her shirt. The uniform fit her better than he’d remembered from last night, the badge shining bright.
She moved up to sit on the desk, her booted feet swinging free.
He waved a hand over the display. “Not much here. Before you ask, no bulletproof vests—there’s a listing for one and one only, and that’s gone. Either Marie wore it out or Dwayne is wearing it right now, wherever he’s holed up.”
“Damn.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not a big fan—they tend to restrict mobility. We’ll make do without.” He pointed at the row of weapons. “We’ve got a single shotgun. A pair of Glocks and one automatic rifle, likely never fired by the look of it, but kept in good shape. Two tasers, still in the box.” He handed her the first taser before clipping the second to his own belt. “We’re going for nonlethal, and right now this is all that qualifies. Don’t forget, these are one-use only, so choose your target carefully.”
She nodded her approval.
He studied her face. “I know I’m asking a lot of you—to try not to kill anyone on purpose. These are killers who won’t be extending us the same courtesy. The contract on my head doesn’t offer a choice between dead or alive—it’s dead.” He chewed on his lip for a second, shaking his head as he sorted the words out.
“I want to save the town, but I don’t want to kill anyone unless I absolutely have to. It’s a hell of a challenge, but I don’t want to be that man anymore, the one they came searching for.” He paused. “I can guarantee if I start shooting, they’
ll fire back, and in full force without any consideration of who’s between us. Not to mention drawing people out from their homes to see what’s going on, putting them in potential danger. Let’s see how far we can get without using deadly force,”
“Then why did you break into the armory?”
“Because if they come here looking for the police, I don’t want this to be their supply depot.” He gave her a mischievous smirk. “I’m going to hide them in one of the empty police lockers and put a padlock on it. If they do make it here and break in, they’ll find nothing to add to their inventory. It might not stop them for long, but it won’t make it as easy as walking into the room clearly marked ‘Armory.’”
“Smart move. And if we need the weapons later on, we can get to them.”
He pointed at the two sets of snowshoes on the floor. “Without those, we’re going nowhere. Glad she had them in stock—shoveling out the front door might be a good way to waste the morning, but time is not on our side.” He paused. “If someone does die, will your sisters come for them?”
“I don’t know. Not all fights warrant Odin’s attention, and not all warriors go to Valhalla or Helheim.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “But if they do, I will stand and meet them proudly, by your side.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I need you to understand—the odds are not in our favor.”
“We could wait for Marie to return.”
He glanced at the windows. “But we won’t. Because those people need us. We need to figure out what’s going on and how to help the Ridge make it out of this.”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “Yes. Because you’ve changed.”
He nodded. “You, too. You and I, those people in Vegas—they don’t exist anymore.” He drew a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
The biting wind cut right through the parka as she climbed up on the snowbank, sending a chill through her bones.
They had gone to the back door of the station and opened it to find at least a foot of snow piled up, some of it falling into the room.
“Right.” Liam grabbed a nearby chair and positioned it at the ledge. “Up and out.”
She stared at him for a minute, confused. “Can’t we just go find a window?”
He grinned. “Have you seen the windows in this building? Other than the ones over the front door and those would be damned hard to get to?” He pointed at the chair. “It’s a police station. They tend to not have many access points on purpose. Trust me on this.”
“Damn.” She got up on the chair, wavering as she got used to the snowshoes attached to her boots. A tentative step had her rising up on the packed snow, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the top of the doorway.
“Right behind you.” Liam moved to stand beside her. He turned and pulled the door shut. “Don’t need to lose all the heat while we’re out. It’s unlocked, but no one knows that other than us.”
She lifted one hand and looked out. “It’s…beautiful.”
“I’d have thought you’d seen a lot of snow in your lifetime.” Liam scanned the empty streets. “Looks like two feet, three easily.”
“Is this normal?” She took a careful step forward, acutely aware of the spacing on the plastic snowshoes clipped onto her feet. She couldn’t just walk naturally—that’d overlap the shoes, trip her up, and she’d fall on her face.
“From what I understand, this is a rare event. Usually it’s only about one foot or so—maybe one and a half. Hard to shovel, but still doable.” He pointed at the pristine snow around them. “You try and step out in that without these snowshoes, you’re not going far. You’ll sink right down—might lose your boot or shoe when you try and walk.”
“Think the Sons have them?”
“Good chance they brought some along. Jamie might have a set in his office. I’m sure the other tenants have them, as well. Either way, we’ll be able to spot their tracks and vice versa.” He adjusted the backpack. “Let’s head for the apartment first, see if they got in. That’ll tell us if they’ve connected Jack Hammerson with Liam Wolfson.”
She clutched the police baton in her gloved hand. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Lead on.”
They marched in a single line, the rolling thunder of crunching snow accompanying them. There were no birds, nothing but the wind whistling down the street. He went beside the buildings, giving them as much shelter as possible from the cold.
And bullets. She wasn’t sure if the Sons would open fire on clearly visible law enforcement personnel, but she didn’t want to find out.
She resisted the urge to touch her side through the parka. Careful inspection in the shower had shown nothing but unbroken skin, the knife injury healed and washed away from sight.
It was definitely a sign, but of what, she couldn’t say. Maybe Freyja didn’t want her to die from such a pointless wound, maybe she was supposed to prepare the Sons for their eventual deaths at the hand of the police and watch her sisters reap their souls.
There was no logic to this, no reason. All she could do was plod along behind Liam and pray this wasn’t their last day together.
Liam’s arm shot out, his gloved hand pressing against her chest. She froze, holding her breath.
A nearby rumbling caught her attention.
A pickup truck turned the corner and started toward them, the sharp metal plow digging through the snow at a slow, tedious pace.
Liam waved his hands in the air as he ran forward, forcing the driver to stop.
She recognized the man as Billy Hendrikson, one of the volunteer firemen. His bright orange safety vest was blinding as she moved up to join Liam, who was already talking to the older man.
“What?” Billy scratched a patch of white hair poking out from under the baseball cap. “You got to be kidding me.” He let out a low chuckle. “Marie deputized you? Bit early for an April’s Fool joke. Or late, depending on how you look at it.”
“Not kidding. No joke.” Liam opened his parka and flashed the badge. “I need you to stop plowing the streets. Get to the firehouse and tell everyone you see to stay inside. We’ve got an emergency situation going on, and we need the streets clear.”
That earned him a frown from the driver. “Wouldn’t you want the streets…clear, then?” He gestured at the snow filled lane in front of them.
“No.” Liam’s tone left no room for discussion. “Tell them it’s a Homeland Security operation—no exceptions. Running on a need to know basis, and right now, I need you to do this.”
“I can help out,” he protested. “Jack, I’m ex-military. Semper fi!” He raised his fist. “Say the word, and I’m beside you. Got some weapons at my house, I can be armed and ready to go in five.”
Liam shook his head. “Appreciate the thought, but Marie swore me to secrecy. She’ll have my balls in a paper cup if I get anyone else involved.” He gave the older man a sly smile. “And you know she’ll do it.”
Billy chuckled. “That’s true.” He frowned. “Is that why the phones are all down? Thought it was just a wire snapping from the storm, but…”
Liam jabbed a thumb toward the hotel. “Got to move. Prep the firehouse for a domestic emergency and stand by—might be a day or so, but as soon as the plows break through from the city, we’ll need you and the men ready to go. Keep everyone away from the hotel. I mean it—stay clear and tell anyone you see to keep their distance. Don’t dig out toward the hotel,” he repeated.
The driver paused for a moment, then slowly nodded. “All right. Just be sure to fill me in at the end of it all. Be careful.” He looked at Kara. “Both of you. And if you need me, I’m here.” The truck moved past them slowly, pushing snow ahead of it before turning away from the hotel.
“Do you think that was wise?” She caught up to Liam, now trudging over the ridge. “It would save us a lot of walking through the snow, worrying about leaving tracks behind.”
“It’ll cut down on the number of civilians wandering around. Last thing we need to do is hand more ho
stages over to the Sons of Cain because someone wanders into the hotel, looking for Jamie.” He glanced over his shoulder at the truck, now heading around the corner. “He’ll pass the word on as best he can. We don’t want the Sons to have free run of the town. Let’s make it as hard as we can for them.”
She nodded her approval and fell back behind him.
What usually was a five-minute walk ended up taking nearly a half hour, Liam leading them around the corner of buildings as he approached the motel complex. It wasn’t so much the route as the slow pace, the crunching of snow almost deafening in the eerie silence.
“There.” He pulled up at the edge of the parking lot, beside a garbage dumpster. “No need to dig out the binoculars.”
She didn’t have to squint to make out the door hanging off the hinges, the snowdrift sweeping into the front hallway. Rage bubbled up inside her at the invasion of his apartment, their apartment.
Their home.
“Bastards.”
“Yep.” Liam studied the scene. “Looks recent.”
“How can you tell that?” She clenched her fingers, itching to punch something or someone.
“The tracks are still there—snowshoes. If they’d gone over last night, the new snow would have covered them up.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe someone’s still there.”
“Might be a trap.” She stared at the trail leading to the front door, unable to tell if the tracks were both incoming and outgoing.
“Only one way to find out.” He dropped the backpack at her feet. “Stay here. Anything goes wrong, you haul ass back to the police station and lock yourself in, wait for Marie. Understand?”
“But…”
“Do you understand?” His voice took on a deep raspy tone, one she’s only heard in bed. “Kara, I can’t risk losing you to these monsters. My fate is my own—I won’t be responsible for your death. Of all the weights on my soul, losing you would be the worst.”
Warrior Nights Page 17