by K. J. Dahlen
Pulling into the driveway, she shut off the engine. Turning to face Michael she asked, “Now what?”
“Now you give me what I want and everyone’s happy.”
Cricket shook her head. “The only one that will be happy is you. I’m here under protest, remember?”
“Just get inside the damn cabin,” Michael ordered in a cold voice. “And bring the brat with you.”
Cricket stared at those cold eyes and all she could see was Cordy. Evil and a killer to the core. She opened the back door and grabbed Jemmia.
The little girl must have picked up on the danger because she didn’t say a word as they went inside the cabin. Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks but she didn’t even whimper.
The cabin smelled a bit musty until she opened some of the windows and aired it out.
Michael disappeared for a moment, then came back. “Nice place.”
“I grew up here,” Cricket told him.
“Why don’t you ever talk about our sister? I mean other than to tell me how much alike her and I are.”
Cricket shuddered and held Jemmia to her a little closer. “Cordy and I didn’t get along that well. She liked to bully me and I’d rather not say anything bad about the dead.”
Michael shrugged. “You just needed to know how to stand up to her that’s all.”
“I tried that once. It was after my dad was killed.”
“What did she do?” Michael wanted to know.
“She beat the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“I told her I didn’t want to go with her. I said I would stay with our old MC,” Cricket explained. “She didn’t want that. She wanted me with her in case she needed me.”
“How old were you at the time?”
“I was fifteen and she was over twenty. I was old enough.”
“Maybe she was just afraid to be alone.” Michael shrugged. “Some people are like that. They need someone else around to make them feel better. Maybe Cordy just didn’t want to be alone.”
Cricket heard a note of something in his voice that spoke volumes. “Is that how you are? You don’t like to be alone either?”
Michael shook his head. “I’ve been alone all my life. Even in a room full of people, I was alone.”
Cricket shook her head. “I never minded being alone. It always gave me time to think.”
“Well, I need you to think about where the damn daggers are,” Michael warned as he now pointed a knife at her.
“What did Bane tell you about the daggers?’ Cricket sat down with Jemmia in her lap.
Michael frowned. “What does that matter? Where are they?”
“Did he tell you they have a curse on them?” she asked. “My daddy told me a story about the daggers. He told me Gowain, our ancestor who got them from King Richard had a curse put on them by a witch he once saved. He wanted to keep the daggers from ever being used to kill someone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s said that Gowain saved the King from an assassination attempt and he was made the King’s protector. The King himself gave the daggers to Gowain. He did what he was supposed to do. What he liked to do. He was like Bane and you. Gowain didn’t have a soul either but he wanted one thing in his life. He wanted them to be pure, to be what he never could be. He loved those daggers. To him, they were worth more than their weight in gold and jewels. So, he found himself a witch and had her lay a curse on them. The curse is that if blood is spilled with the daggers…the one that used them will end up dead by them. That’s one reason why the daggers are in such good condition. The blades have never been used.”
Michael scoffed. “That’s pure horseshit.”
Cricket shrugged. “Believe what you want, but the daggers were like brand new when I last saw them, many years ago, and they are several hundred years old.”
“Where are they?” Michael demanded. “I want them now.”
Cricket shrugged and got to her feet. She kept Jemmina with her and carried her on her hip. There was no way she would let this bastard near her. She went over to the wall opposite the huge fireplace. She took a small picture off the wall and set it down with one hand, then broke through the wallpaper under it.
Michael came to stand behind her.
The she felt the knife he had in his hand as he pressed it into her back. The tip of the knife pricked her skin and she felt a drop of blood run down her lower back.
Michael watched as she punched in a code on the keypad under the wallpaper.
A section of the wall slid back, showing off a rack of weapons that hadn’t seen the light of day in over a decade.
Michael’s jaw slacked as he viewed his uncle’s gun collection.
Cricket moved a step away and swiveled Jemmina away from him, but Michael grabbed her by the arm. Pressing the knife deeper into her back he snarled, “Don’t go too far. I’m not sure I trust you.”
“I’m not sure she should trust you,” a whisper of a man’s voice came from behind them.
Michael gasped and tried to turn but something hard slammed upside his head. He crumbled to the floor.
Cricket screamed and pulled Jemmina to the side shielding her with her body. The little girl cried quietly into her shoulder. Cricket’s scream wasn’t so much because Michael fell to the floor but because the knife he had in his hand was pushed into her back by the momentum of his fall. Raising her head, she found herself looking at four men standing there.
All of them wore combat fatigues and had their faces blackened by grease paint. The biggest one had pure white hair and looked to be older but who could tell under all that paint. He was the one who struck Michael and she could still see his weapon butt end up.
He lowered it as he nodded at his men. Turning back to her he spoke, “Don’t worry darlin, Sam sent us.”
“Oh, thank God!” she cried out as she trembled badly. She carefully set Jemmina down. “P-please take care—of h-her…” Then she fell into his arms and collapsed.
~* * * *~
Stone looked over at the other men with him in confusion.
One of them stepped closer and noticed the hilt of the knife sticking out of her back. That and the growing patch of red as her blood seeped into the fabric of her shirt. “Damn Colonel, he stuck her!”
“Fuck a duck!” Stone swore. “Sam’s gonna kill me. I must be getting old. I didn’t even see the knife.” He glanced over at the men with him. “Doc, get your ass over here! We need a medic.”
One of the men stepped forward as Stone picked up the screaming baby and stepped away.
Another of his men secured Michael while the man he called Doc eased Cricket to the floor. Turning her over, they could see the knife sticking out of her back. Doc grabbed his pack and began grabbing gauge pads as he eased the blade out. “I don’t think it hit anything vital.”
“It better not have.” Stone sighed as he rocked the baby in his arms. He peeked over at her and smiled. “Don’t cry, your dad and granddad are on their way to get you and take you home to your mama.”
The little toddler stopped crying and repeated, “Mama?”
Doc glanced up and said, “Let’s get her on the sofa where I can get a better idea of her wound.”
The other men carefully picked Cricket up and laid her face down on the sofa.
Doc knelt beside her and began cleaning the blood off her skin. A short time later, he finished taping a bandage on, just as the door swung open hard enough to smack against the wall behind it.
The first one who entered was Sam, then Deke and three others. All had their weapons ready and they all looked slightly disappointed when they saw the calm scene in front of them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Utica, New York…
Bastian drove into the barn slowly. As his car slowly lowered to the basement level, he looked over at the small box sitting on the seat next to his. With Sawyer’s help under the influence of
the truth serum, he knew exactly where to look for the missing item. Now that he had it, he knew his time with Sawyer was running out.
He raised his gaze and glanced into the rearview mirror. His battered blue eyes looked weary to him. The bruise on his cheek told its own story. He was two hours later getting back, but then he never expected to run into Malvin at the church either.
Malvin had caught him unaware. He must have been waiting in the shadows until someone came for the Hand. He’d turned his head at just the right moment. The flashlight in Malvin’s hand was set to crack his skull but Bastian turned and caught it alongside his face instead. The pain from the blow would have laid him low except for one thing—Bastian was used to setting his own pain aside. His survival instinct often put him in this position and he needed to push through it.
The battle between the two men was over quickly as Bastian instinctively struck him with the heel of his hand in the throat. Unfortunately, for Malvin, Bastian had been holding a small screwdriver in his hand when he struck out. He watched as the other man collapsed on the floor. The screwdriver he’d been using on the pew bench had gone deep into Malvin’s neck and it didn’t take long before his wheezing stopped altogether.
Rather than stay and explain things to the police, Bastian had dragged the man into the confessional booth and closed the curtain. He was thinking about the awful surprise someone was going to get when they opened the curtains to confess their own sins.
Bastian went about taking the loosened board off the outside bench. Reaching inside, he found the relic, then after replacing the board, he tucked the relic inside his pocket and left the church. Snapping off the latex gloves, he shoved them in his pocket and escaped the area before anyone knew he’d even been there.
Now after a two hour trip back, Bastian was exhausted. His head was pounding and he could feel the skin around his wound cracking as the dried blood broke with his every movement. He made sure he closed the doors behind him then checked the outside cameras. Nothing moved outside, so he went down the hall.
Sitting down heavily at his desk, the first thing he checked was Sawyer. Turning up the volume, he heard her calling his name.
“Hey, Priest. Where are you? I need to talk to you.”
“Can you give me a little time to clean up?” Bastian asked. His words echoed back through the microphone in the speaker.
Sawyer nodded.
He closed his eyes for a moment as his head pounded, then got to his feet and opened another door opposite of the one that led to the room Sawyer was in. He entered his bedroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. Going to his dresser, he grabbed a clean pair of jeans and T-shirt then walked naked to the shower. After a short cleansing shower, he dried himself off and got dressed.
Going back into the office, he checked the monitor again. Sawyer was still laying on the bed, blindfold still in place. Bastian ran his fingers through his hair. His wound hurt but it had stopped bleeding. Straightening his body, he went to the door pausing in front of the mirror. He studied his face. The bruised eye and cheek didn’t hurt as much anymore but he still had his headache.
Not wanting to think too hard about it, he pushed open the door and went over to the bed. Sitting down beside her, he asked quietly, “What can I do for you?”
~* * * *~
His voice made Sawyer tremble, but not from fear. It caressed her and made her feel warm inside. The clean soapy smell of him was pleasing but she could still smell his real scent. It smelled clean and fresh almost like being outside in the woods.
Why wasn’t she afraid of this man? Her feelings puzzled her. She did know that whenever he was near, her heart pounded and it wasn’t from fear either. “So did you find the Hand?” she asked.
“Yes, I did. It was right where you told me it was.”
Sawyer shook her head. “I never would have remembered that day. My mother told me to forget everything that happened, then Max’s evil twin told me the same thing. I was so scared I didn’t want to remember. What was that stuff you gave me?”
He didn’t answer for a moment then he replied, “It was a simple truth serum. I’ve used it before. Then all I did was ask the right questions.”
“I remembered things I thought long forgotten.” Sawyer shuddered. “I had forgotten the church we went to after the meeting with Max.”
“Fear will block a lot of things. You were only a child at the time and Max’s brother threatened your whole world.”
“Max’s brother?” Sawyer frowned. “I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“Neither did anyone else,” he whispered. “He didn’t want anyone to know about his brother, or the fact that his brother was living with him.”
Sawyer stretched her arms out uncomfortably. “Is there any way you can untie me? I can’t lay here anymore.”
Bastian studied her for a moment. “As much as I’d like to I can’t. I don’t want anyone to know what I look like or where I am.”
Sawyer stilled for a moment then asked, “If I promise not to move the blindfold, can you let my hands go? My arms are sore from being tied so long.”
“Do I have your word that you won’t take the blindfold off?”
Sawyer nodded. “I promise.”
“Before I do that there is something I’ve wanted to do for a while now,” he whispered.
“What would that be?” Sawyer asked.
He kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss but a needy kiss.
Sawyer felt his lips on hers and something strange lit up inside her. Her breath quickened and her heart began to race. She opened her mouth and his tongue slid inside. Colors spun out of control behind her closed eyelids. She groaned as her body heated from within.
She felt something unfurling inside her and she wanted so much more.
~* * * *~
This was the kiss that Bastian had held back for a whole year. He didn’t realize the depth of passion he felt for this woman, until this kiss. They both were breathless after a couple of minutes and he pulled his mouth from hers.
“Please…” she begged.
“What? What do you want?” Bastian whispered brokenly. His lips found hers again and his tongue began doing what he wished his body could. It went in and out of her mouth. Then he knew he needed to stop himself from going too far and he pulled his lips from hers again.
“I want you,” Sawyer whispered to his lips. “I need you.”
He brushed his groin against her thigh. “I know it’s too soon for this and you aren’t ready for any of it, but I just want a small taste, just a sneak peek of what we could be together.” He unbuttoned her jeans. His fingers traced a path along her leg inside her jeans. His lips kissed along her skin as he made his way back up her body. “I can smell you. Your need is getting stronger as is my own.”
She paused then whispered, “It’s insane, truly, but I do want you to show me what passion is. I want you to take me where no other man ever has.”
“Or ever will,” he whispered back.
Sawyer groaned when his lips nibbled their way along her neck to her collarbone.
Bastian stopped and laid his forehead against hers. “I can’t do this.”
“Why?” she cried out.
“I promised your father I wouldn’t hurt you. I promised Leon.”
“How can this hurt me?” Sawyer asked. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you right now.”
“I just feel as if you may just be feeling fear and its’ not—”
“Please?” she pleaded. “You were right before. I cannot see or touch you, but somehow my other senses know you so well. Like you were meant to be the man for me. I have never felt anything for a guy before. Some tried to kiss me or touch me and it just felt wrong. Your touch is so…” She bit at her lip. “…It’s like I know your touch. I even love your scent. I know just when you are near. It’s like you’ve crept right into my soul.”
Bastian let out the breath he’d been ho
lding as he couldn’t believe this woman was saying what she was. “I don’t want you forced or to feel like you need to bargain for your life by—?”
“It is of my own free will. I already know that you won’t kill me. You may even love me?”
Bastian tilted his head. Yes, he might indeed love her. He should have caught her before this, gotten his info and then dumped her, but no…he’d instead, followed her around for almost a year. Dreaming of her at night. Thinking of her instead of other things. This is in fact is what he’d dreamt of. Her lying beneath him, wanting him. He reached for her shirt and began unbuttoning it. He parted the material and sucked in his breath at the sight. Her breasts were full and barely contained in her bra. With his knife he cut the material away from her skin. Her rosy nipples stood erect. Waiting for his mouth, his fingers. Her skin looked smooth and slightly tanned. Her bruises were mostly gone but faint traces could still be seen on her ribs from her ordeal with that scum. His gut twisted. The man was lucky he was dead or Bastian would kill him for what he’d done to her.
He clenched his fists telling himself to stop right here…right now. He just wanted a taste is all. He would just take a taste. It may have to last him a very long time. Then his lips were on her unbound breasts. Kissing and caressing her skin. His teeth nipped on her nipples.
Her waistline was bare as were her breasts, but Bastian couldn’t help himself. He had to see all of her—taste all of her.
He slipped her jeans all the way down and off her legs and now the only barrier between them was a pair of dark blue panties. Bastian rubbed his hand over her hot wet core. He could feel her excitement and smell her arousal. Her scent was driving him crazy.