What You Can’t See

by Allison Brennan

  “Something happened to me, Dani. I can’t explain it, but I have this thing inside me, warning bells. You’re in danger, this museum is in danger, and it’s tied somehow to a three-thousand-year-old scabbard.”

  “Four thousand years old. The only thing missing is the Sword of Caladia.” In answer, the sword at his back warmed. Son of a bitch! Zach reached behind him and slowly withdrew the sword.

  Danica stood, her eyes wide in wonder. Maybe seeing the sword would convince her. He held it in front of him. “I think this may be what goes into the scabbard.”

  Her eyes grew larger. She reached out to touch it. Heat flared in his hand. Zach pulled it away. Would it hurt her?

  “Where did you get that?”

  How did one tell a perfectly sane person you died, were on your way to burn in hell, then some guy named Michael plucked you from your fall, gave you a sword and told you to go save the world?

  “The Immortals want the Star of Moria.”

  “The who want the what?” Danica laughed. “C’mon, Zach. You can do better than this fairy tale.”

  Zach’s skin shivered. “The Immortals. We have to stop them. They want the star, it’s the key to—a prison.” He stopped short. His temple seared in pain.

  Danica moved closer to Zach, still skeptical and more than a little wary. She put her hand to his brow; it was cool and damp. “What kind of medication are you on?”

  “None.”

  “I don’t believe you. From what I heard you were dead on the scene. Your larynx was crushed. They gave you a trach tube. Your body took a beating rolling around in the crash. And you’re out three days later? No drugs? You couldn’t speak this morning.”

  She shook her head. None of it added up. “Explain how you’re here.”

  Zach’s free hand shook as he reached out to touch her. She withdrew but kept a steadying hand on his shoulder to guide him to the chair in front of her desk. “Sit down, Zach.”

  He did and she unscrewed the cap off the bottle of water on her desk and handed it to him. He shook his head but she pressed it into his hand. He took a long drink. She watched as his Adam’s apple jumped up and down with each swallow, the Band-Aid on his neck moving with it. No way could he not be on painkillers. The trauma to his head must have shaken a few brain cells loose. He was speaking like a crazy person. He obviously was not emotionally stable.

  She glanced down at the sword in his hand. But how did she explain that?

  He drained the bottle and set it down on her desk. “What the hell is going on, Zach, and don’t feed me bullshit lines about Immortals.”

  As the words left her mouth he felt the pressure of them all around him. They were near. He could feel it. Waiting, wanting the sword, the scabbard, the star, and Danica.

  A vision of Danica hanging naked and ripe with child in iron manacles, the fires of hell flashing around her sweaty, writhing body, pierced his consciousness. She cried out to him, her voice raw with emotion, begging him to save her and their child.

  An overwhelming sense of duty filled him. Sensation filled his body, supercharging his cells, and he suddenly knew what he had to do.

  His eyes rose to hers, the blue nearly black in the bright light of her office. “Your mother had the same port-wine birthmark on her inner thigh as you do.”

  Danica visibly whitened. “How do you know that?”

  He just—knew. “And her mother and her mother before her.”

  As intimate as she had been with Zach, she had never revealed the fact she and her mother shared the same birthmark in such a private part of their anatomy. She’d always felt that was her mother’s information to share.

  “How do you know that?”

  Zach shook his head again. “I just do.” He stood, his body swaying. Danica reached out this time and steadied him.

  “I need to see the scabbard.”

  Danica rubbed her suddenly pounding temples. She made the decision to indulge him for several reasons, one being that Zach stood before her a healthy man even though just hours before he could not speak, and another, she was damn curious. Much more so than she should be. And knowing how involvement with Zach tended to go, she would live to regret the decision. “Fine, Zach, but understand the scabbard stays here.”

  As Danica opened the door to her office a sensation of doom struck Zach so hard his body took the hit, the percussion of it vibrating through him. “Danica!” he called.

  She turned. Mark materialized almost as if from thin air and yanked her to his chest. Zach’s adrenaline spiked and, with it, his muscles filled with blood, every sense sharpened on high alert. He growled low, regretting he hadn’t killed Santos when he’d had the chance. The sword warmed at his back in agreement.

  Zach locked his stare on Santos. The prick’s eyes had morphed to hard onyx and he grinned at Zach. For the first time in the nearly three years he’d been partnered with him, Zach noticed the sharpness of Santos’s incisors. Like a canine’s. Fear for Danica filled his cells. He would die to protect her.

  Danica yelped in surprise until she realized it was Mark. “You startled me.” He continued to hold her, despite her efforts to pull away from him. “Let go of me, Mark.” She yanked out of his grasp but he grabbed her back, pulling her farther from her office.

  “I didn’t want to tell you this, Dani, not this way,” Mark said.

  She twisted to see him but he kept her facing Zach even as the space grew between them.

  “Tell me what? What the hell is going on?” She glanced back at Zach who looked winded, his color lighter. He looked to be in pain. His eyes, though, burned bright.

  Mark raised his Sig and pointed it at Zach’s heart. Danica had had enough of this pissing contest. “Put the damn gun down, Mark!”

  He shook his head. His hand tightened on her arm. His gun hand steady. “I just got a call from Captain Leonard. Your ex is wanted for murdering a CI of mine.”

  Danica gasped and stopped struggling. Her gaze shot to Zach. He scowled. Her eyes narrowed. It wouldn’t be the first time this man had killed.

  “I’m taking you in, Garett,” Mark said. He pushed Danica aside and waved his gun toward the doorway. “Come out, real slow. Hands up.”

  Zach straightened to his full height. He raised his hands and put them behind his head. Danica stood rooted to the floor, unable to grasp the depths of this man’s dishonor. “You—bastard!” she hissed.

  Her words had no impact on Zach; he didn’t flinch. He stood rigid, his eyes riveted on Mark. She turned to look at Mark and what she saw chilled her to the bone. His features had paled, his dark eyes hardened to stone. And the subtle odor of…something unpleasant swirled around him. What the hell was going on?

  She turned back to confront Zach. He moved lightning quick, dropping to his left knee and pulling that golden sword from behind his back where it was sheathed. It whizzed past her cheek. Mark screamed. The blade severed his thumb from his hand, the gun clattered to the marble. The appendage plunked next to it on the floor, leaving a bloody spray in its wake. Zach shot past her before she realized he had moved. He dove for the sword sticking straight into the wall behind them at the same time Mark did.

  Zach grabbed the sword. Mark slammed him into the wall, and grabbed Zach’s hand holding the sword. In a hard sweep he smashed Zach’s hand against the plastered corner of the wall. Zach grunted, his fingers loosened, and the sword skittered across the floor toward Danica. She hurried toward it and picked it up. It felt warm in her hand. Alive.

  “Stop!” she shouted.

  Zach twisted out of Mark’s grasp and elbowed him hard in the nose. Blood spattered in a high arch, staining the white wall and Zach’s arms. Zach kicked Mark in the gut, the velocity of Mark’s body cracking the plaster when he hit the wall. Zach turned toward Danica. Mark lunged off the wall and went for the gun at her feet. She kicked it away, then hurried after it. He skidded to a stop going the opposite direction.

  Danica turned on both men, sword in one hand and pistol i
n the other. Calmly she took several steps backward, putting more distance between her and the two crazy-ass fiends. Cool as the evening fog, she leveled each weapon. One trained on each man.

  “I want you both out of here. This minute. And I don’t want to see either one of you ever again.”

  “Dan—” Mark started.

  “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Get out!”

  “He’s under arrest,” Mark said, looking at Zach. “If you let him go, I’ll arrest you for aiding and abetting.”

  “You’ll need backup for that.”

  She caught Zach’s smile. “Don’t try that on me, Garett. Once you leave here you’re on your own. I hope this time IA nails your ass and the boys in Quentin finally get to make you their bitch.”

  “Dani, he’s lying.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But I have no problem with you taking the rap for all the times you didn’t get caught.”

  “Danica, I’ll go,” Mark said, his voice suddenly weak. “I need to get to the hospital.” He reached down and picked his thumb up from the floor.

  Danica blanched at Mark’s casualness. He’d just had his thumb sliced off and he acted as if he had a splinter. She’d always had a strong stomach but the absurdity of the scene made her belly queasy.

  The least she could do was call an ambulance. “I’ll call AMR,” she offered.

  Mark vehemently shook his head. “I’ll drive myself.” He turned then and sprinted down the hallway.

  Zach turned to Dani and began his plea in earnest.

  Chapter Four

  “T AKE ME to the shipment.”

  Danica turned both weapons on him. “No.”

  Her fighting stance didn’t impede him. He stepped closer. “Danica, please, you must trust me. We need to move. Now, before Santos comes back with friends.”

  “I’m not taking the fall for you again. Get out of here, Zach.”

  Zach stood still for a moment, thoughts crashing in his head. How could he convince this woman of this crazy-ass tale he had no explanation for? He swiped his hand across his face, unsure how to proceed with her.

  But there were several facts he was crystal clear on.

  First and foremost he needed to keep Danica away from Santos, and he needed to get his hands on the scabbard. What happened afterward he was unclear about, but he knew both he and Danica would be involved. He focused on Danica, who stood silent, angry, wielding two very dangerous weapons in front of him.

  Zach looked down the long corridor that led to Dani’s office. Miraculously it remained empty. It didn’t really matter, he reasoned. The entire staff could show up at that moment and it would not change what he had to do. Get the scabbard. With Danica or without her.

  He swooped her up into his arms and threw her over his shoulder. Danica’s size and the fact her hands were full didn’t stop her from kicking and screaming all the way down the hall.

  “Danica, stop acting like a spoiled little girl.”

  “I’m going to stab you then shoot you!”

  “Slide the sword down between my belt and back, and do the same to yourself with the Sig.”

  In classic Dani fashion she didn’t listen. But at least she didn’t slice and dice him either. And despite everything that had happened to him in the last seventy-two hours, Zach’s strength mushroomed. He tightened his arm around Danica’s legs. With his free hand, he grabbed the sword from her flailing hand and sheathed it behind him. Her pummeling fists on his back did nothing to deter him from snatching the nine mil and sliding it alongside the sword.

  “Zach, you will regret this!”

  He slapped her hard on her right ass cheek and squeezed the firm flesh. “Never.”

  For the moment she shut up.

  Guided by instinct, Zach turned down one hall, pushed through a door, and strode down another hall until he stepped out onto the loading dock. He said a silent thank-you to whoever had orchestrated the lack of inquiring eyes or ears along the way. His luck ended, however, when the truck driver shifted the forklift into reverse, stopping several feet away.

  Zach smiled at the man, who returned his gesture with raised brows.

  Zach released his tight grip on his ex-fiancées bottom and let her slide down his body to the floor. As their hips met, he grinned when her angry eyes flashed at him.

  “Danica, you know the curator wants the Caladian crate opened. Now, stop playing around,” Zach chided. His reward for the charade? A murderous glare.

  Her patience pushed to the limit, she steered him several feet away from the truck driver, who pretended not to be interested in their hijinks.

  “I swear to God, Zach, if you don’t knock this off, I’m going to start screaming.”

  “I need you to trust me, Dani!”

  “Last time I trusted you I got fired!”

  “Look, if I’m wrong about all of this and we’re on a wild-goose chase, I’ll go to the chief and tell him I lied.”

  She gasped at his confession and looked harder at him, searching his face for the lie she was sure he told. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “The right thing to do?” she shrieked. The truck driver coughed; she flashed him a look that said, mind your own damn business. Then she lit into Zach. “I haven’t seen you for three years, and now you come waltzing back into my life and expect me to help just because you want me to? After you set me up to get fired?”

  Zach lowered his voice and steered her away from the nosy driver. “Things are different now. And while I understand your reluctance to help me, you have to admit, there is some weird-ass stuff going on around here. Give me the benefit of the doubt, Danica. Help me and I swear on my sister’s grave I’ll do everything in my power to get you your job back.”

  “I don’t want my job back!” she spat. “I don’t want anything to do with Oakland PD.” She shoved away from him. “Or you.”

  “Twenty-four hours, Dani. Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll give you your life back.”

  She punched him as hard as she could in the chest. “Why did you do it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She choked back a sob. “Yes, damn it, it does!”

  “See this through with me, Danica, and when it’s over I’ll resign. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” Zach stood rigid, hard, unyielding. Despite his refusal to give her answers to questions that had haunted her for years, his determination to see his crazy scheme through wore on her. That, and as angry as she was with him, she hadn’t felt this alive in more than a thousand days.

  “How can I trust a murderer?”

  “I told you. I’ll swear on my sister’s grave. I’ll resign and give up the info if you just do what I tell you.”

  Arms crossed, brows jammed together, Danica angrily tapped her foot on the floor. All this time she’d thought if the PD came crawling to her, begging her to come back, she would kick dirt in their faces. But given the chance, slight as it was…and even if the chance was contingent on helping the man who had more to do with her getting canned than not…Her heart rate accelerated. In her gut she wanted to be back on the streets of Oakland again—even if it meant working with Zach Garett for the next twenty-four hours.

  “Promise me you won’t kill anyone.”

  “I can’t.”

  She shoved past him. He grabbed her arm, pulling her around to face him. “I promise not to kill anyone unless they try killing me first.”

  For a long moment Danica contemplated him. He looked so serious. More serious than the day he proposed to her. More serious than he had when he sat in a courtroom and testified against drug dealers, murderers, and pedophiles. And more serious than on the anniversary of his sister’s suicide when they visited her grave site.

  She looked up at him and really took him in. His tawny eyes compelled her to rethink. He stared at her, unwavering in his cause. How could he just walk back into her life after three years of no contact and expect her to skip al
ong with his half-baked schemes?

  Her brows furrowed. But how did he know about her mother’s birthmark? And the Caladian shipment? Then there was that sword…

  “Danica, if I’m wrong what do you have to lose?”

  “My job. Time wasted with you.”

  He moved closer, so close the warm percussion of his breath touched her cheek. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Our time was never a waste.”

  Despite the alarms shrilling at capacity in her brain, and her heart twisting in indecision, she felt herself giving in to his pull.

  “I swear to God, Zach, if you screw me again I’ll kill you myself.”

  He smiled, the gesture lighting up his face. Her belly did a slow roll.

  “You always were the bravest girl I knew,” he said.

  “Save it. What do you want from me?”

  “The scabbard. Open that crate.”

  Danica nodded.

  Although the packing slip was ambiguous, and didn’t list the contents in exact terms, they went through the crate. Half an hour later with the entire container emptied, it was obvious there was no scabbard among the varied artifacts. Danica sat back on her heels. She called to the truck driver who was taking a smoke break and asked, “The manifest says there were two parts to this shipment. Where is the other crate?”

  He shrugged and answered, “Fellow at the docks said customs tagged it for inspection.”

  “Is it customary to give this information to the people you’re delivering to, or withhold it until asked?” Zach asked, all guise of pleasantries gone.

  The teamster flicked his butt to the ground and crushed it under his boot. “My union says I only have to deliver.”

  Danica flashed Zach a glare then smiled at the driver. “Please ignore him, Roger, he’s temporary.”

  “Do the shipments come in to Oakland or San Fransisco?” Zach asked.

  “Oakland.”