by I. T. Lucas
Dark Guardian Found
I. T. LUCAS
FOLLOW I. T. LUCAS ON AMAZON
Contents
1. Chapter 1: Eva
2. Chapter 2: Eva
3. Chapter 3: Bhathian
4. Chapter 4: Eva
5. Chapter 5: Bhathian
6. Chapter 6: Eva
7. Chapter 7: Carol
8. Chapter 8: Robert
9. Chapter 9: Eva
10. Chapter 10: Nathalie
11. Chapter 11: Eva
12. Chapter 12: Bhathian
13. Chapter 13: Eva
14. Chapter 14: Bhathian
15. Chapter 15: Nathalie
16. Chapter 16: Eva
17. Chapter 17: Amanda
18. Chapter 18: Andrew
19. Chapter 19: Eva
20. Chapter 20: Nathalie
21. Chapter 21: Eva
22. Chapter 22: Bhathian
23. Chapter 23: Eva
24. Chapter 24: Bhathian
25. Chapter 25: Eva
26. Chapter 26: Bhathian
27. Chapter 27: Eva
28. Chapter 28: Bhathian
29. Chapter 29: Tessa
30. Chapter 30: Eva
31. Chapter 31: Nathalie
32. Chapter 32: Jackson
33. Chapter 33: Bhathian
34. Chapter 34: Tessa
35. Chapter 35: Eva
36. Chapter 36: Bhathian
37. Chapter 37: Eva
38. Chapter 38: Syssi
39. Chapter 39: Losham
40. Chapter 40: Eva
41. Chapter 41: Jackson
42. Chapter 42: Eva
43. Chapter 43: Bhathian
44. Chapter 44: Eva
45. Chapter 45: Bhathian
46. Chapter 46: Eva
47. Chapter 47: Bhathian
48. Chapter 48: Eva
49. Chapter 49: Bhathian
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COPYRIGHT
Chapter 1: Eva
5 years ago
Bayshore Towers
Tampa, Florida
“Please don’t cut me, I’ll do anything, please…”
Eva sat bolt upright in bed, whipping her head around to look at the man sleeping next to her. Did he hear that?
A split second later the cobwebs of dreams dissipated, and she remembered who and what she was. Fifty years of living with that shit, and she was still waking up every morning thinking she was a normal human being and not a freak with supernatural senses.
No one aside from her could hear the pleading coming all the way from the other side of the corridor. Not unless they were in that same apartment with the bully and his terrified victim. The luxury building had excellent soundproofing between the residences, ensuring the privacy of its wealthy occupants—ordinary people couldn’t hear a thing from the neighboring apartments. But Eva was as far from ordinary as it got. She’d learned to tune out most of the intruding sounds, like the guy snoring next door, but the urgency and distress in the girl’s voice had managed to penetrate her shields.
The nearest article of clothing Eva could see was her one nightstand’s dress shirt. Lifting it off the floor and shrugging it over her shoulders, she debated whether to wake Wilbert Whitmore the Third and tell him to call the police.
No time.
Not even to find her panties. They must’ve been hiding somewhere under the bed.
A girl’s life was on the line and every second counted. Besides, Eva could probably handle the situation on her own. After all, she was a trained DEA agent, and subduing some drunkard bastard shouldn’t be too difficult. Never mind that the last time she’d had any training was thirty-something years ago. Hopefully, the moves she’d learned were still hardwired into her brain, and the muscle memory was still there. As to her level of fitness, she had nothing to worry about—along with the enhanced senses, her body had somehow mutated into a never-aging, fast-healing, efficient machine.
Saving the girl should be easy, but it needed to be done quickly. Eva was there on an assignment, and couldn’t afford for Mr. Wilbert Whitmore the Third to start asking questions. She was supposed to be a random hookup, and not some superwoman playing hero and saving young girls from bullies. Ideally, the rescue would be done in a few minutes, and she could get back in bed, pretending like nothing had happened. There was a fat check waiting for her if she coaxed more details out of Wilbert about the business deal he was negotiating on behalf of his father.
A quick in and out. Scare the shit out of the guy, get the girl away, and that’s it. Nothing overly ambitious or fancy.
Not bothering to fasten more than the minimum number of buttons necessary, Eva grabbed a candleholder from the coffee table, a container of mace spray from her purse, and a lock-pick set from a hidden compartment in her left boot.
Prepared to snoop around Wilbert’s apartment, she’d brought the tools of her trade. Seducing him hadn’t been part of her original plan, but one thing had led to another, and she’d ended up going home with him instead. It wasn’t her normal mode of operation as a corporate spy—hooking up with her targets wasn’t part of the deal—but the guy was single, decent-looking, and she hadn’t been with a man in over a month. The decision had been easy. A sweet deal, actually. While charging her client extra for going above and beyond their original arrangement, she’d scratched a troublesome itch.
Wilbert had passed out too soon to satiate her hunger, but that was nothing new. Most men didn’t. In fact, she could remember only two who had, and both of them had been jerks. Her record with men sucked, including her cheating, lying, ex-husband.
But at least none of them had been physically abusive. Not that Eva would’ve tolerated even a hint of violence.
As she rushed to the scene unfolding in the apartment down the hall, her footfalls almost soundless on the luxurious carpet, Eva was once again reminded that things like that were tragically common. When she’d first started her detective agency, she’d dealt mainly with gathering evidence on cheating spouses. Her clients hadn’t been the downtrodden variety, and yet in some cases, she’d discovered that spousal abuse happened behind their fancy closed doors. As evidenced by what was going on right there, in one of the most prestigious addresses in Tampa, violence and bullying existed in the most affluent of places, crossing lines of social standing, level of education, and financial means.
“You little bitch, I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you. I own you.”
“Please, Marty, I beg you, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want, please!” The girl was sobbing hysterically.
With an efficiency born of years of practice, Eva picked the lock and dropped her toolkit on the floor before the guy finished his next sentence.
“Damn right, you will. Because I’m going to teach you a lesson you’re never going to forget.”
Eva didn’t need X-ray vision to know that the psycho was about to cut the girl. Mace in one hand and candleholder in the other, she burst in and rushed toward him. The element of surprise worked to her advantage. Regrettably, the size of the room didn’t. Even as fast as she was, she couldn’t cross the distance fast enough.
Looming over the kneeling girl, her hair fisted in one meaty hand, a switchblade clutched in the other, the guy had his back to the door. But even though he was clearly high on something, his reflexes were intact. Still holding onto the girl’s hair, he turned around and pointed the knife at Eva.
At the sight of his half-naked would-be attacker, the snarl twisting his lips transformed into an evil smile.
Idiot.
He had no idea who he was dealing with. To him, Eva was just another female he c
ould easily terrorize.
Big mistake, mister.
Eva kicked the door, and it slammed shut behind her. There was no going back. She was committed to wiping that grin off the asshole’s smug face.
Holding his gaze with a smile of her own, she closed the rest of the distance in one leap and brought her candleholder down on his wrist, sending the knife clattering to the floor. The idiot hadn’t expected her to move so fast, and the surprise in his eyes quickly turned into a murderous rage. With another smile, she lifted the mace and sprayed.
Bellowing his pain and fury, the guy dropped the girl and clutched at his face.
“Run!” Eva commanded.
But the girl didn’t move. As soon as the jerk had let go of her hair, she’d crumpled down to the floor.
Did she pass out?
Her face was badly bruised, and blood was oozing from a shallow cut on her cheek, but those were superficial injuries—not enough to cause loss of consciousness. Except, the bastard might have done more damage than that. If he’d kicked the girl, she might have internal bleeding or damaged organs. Broken ribs were also a possibility.
That complicated things.
Eva’s plan had been to scare the guy and help the girl get away, but the situation had turned out more complex than the run-of-the-mill domestic violence case.
That wasn’t a normal couple. Not that beating up and cutting a partner could ever qualify as normal.
It was more than that, though. The girl lying unconscious on the floor looked underage, and the guy was a brutal thug with a lot of money.
The thing was, the bastard didn’t seem as out of it as Eva had initially suspected, and he didn’t look scared either. In fifteen minutes or so, he’d get over the temporary loss of vision and give chase.
Already, he was trying to grab her, reaching for her blindly. “I’m going to fucking kill you, bitch. You can run all you want, but I’m going to find you, and I’m going to cut you into tiny little pieces and send them one at a time to your family. And I’ll do the same to that little bitch.” He pointed at the girl on the floor.
An involuntary whimper betrayed the girl. Apparently, she wasn’t passed out, just pretending to be.
Eva shuddered. The vehemence in his tone suggested those weren’t empty threats. She wasn’t afraid for herself, there was no way he could ever find her, but the girl was another story.
She would have to whisk her out of there and hide her. Make her disappear. The thing was, Eva needed more time than a fifteen-minute head start.
“Did you hear me?” The guy was practically foaming at the mouth. “I’m going to cut you up piece by piece, and I’m going to start with that little shit.” He pointed at the floor. “While you watch. And then I’m going to do the same to you.”
Eva wasn’t the type to lose her temper, and her training had taught her to ignore taunting, but this one was pressing all her buttons. Every one of her suppressed motherly instincts was screaming at her to protect the young girl.
As the guy leaned forward, his hands grasping air while he tried to grab her again, she glanced at the candleholder still clutched in her hand and without giving it any thought swung it full force, hitting the thug at the back of his skull. A sickening crashing sound followed, and he fell forward like a toppled tower and stayed down.
“Did you kill him?” the girl whispered.
“I don’t know,” Eva admitted. That hadn’t been her intention—she’d only meant to knock him out to give them enough time to escape—she hadn’t realized how much muscle she’d put behind that swing. Not that she was sorry to end the scum’s life.
Not at all.
A monster like that didn’t deserve to live and harm people just because he could.
The lack of remorse surprised her. Eva had never killed before, and taking a life should’ve shocked her. But it didn’t. In fact, all she felt was enormous satisfaction. She’d just made the world a better place.
Later, she’d pray for God’s forgiveness.
Crouching beside the prone body, she checked for a pulse.
There was none.
“He’s dead.” She glanced at the girl. “Are you sorry?”
The girl huffed out a breath. “The only thing I’m sorry for is that it wasn’t me with that candleholder. I should’ve done something like that a long time ago, but I was too scared.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. He would’ve killed you.”
The girl didn’t look strong enough to lift the heavy candleholder, let alone swing it with deadly force.
An unnatural force.
Even in the hands of a strong man, the thing shouldn’t have fractured the guy’s skull.
“What do we do now?”
Good question. She could call the police and claim self-defense. Accidental manslaughter. The thing was, even if they believed her, which was doubtful, Eva couldn’t afford the publicity a case like that would garner. All her careful planning and ingenious track-covering would be blown to hell.
No way.
She could disappear, but what about the girl?
“What’s your name?” As partners in crime, they should at least get to know each other’s names.
“Tessa.” The girl got up on shaky legs and offered her hand.
“I’m Veronica.” Eva chose one of the many different names she used.
“Thank you, Veronica. You should go. I’ll say that I did it. I’m dead anyway.” Tessa sounded like an old woman resigned to her fate, not a young girl with her entire life still ahead of her.
“What do you mean, you’re dead anyway?”
“Martin is… he was a major drug dealer. Whoever takes his place in the organization will make sure to finish me off to teach the others a lesson.”
Poor girl. She wasn’t making any sense. Probably the trauma.
“Others? Like the other girlfriends or wives?”
“Slaves. Martin bought me.”
Yep, definitely trauma. And if not, whatever the story was, this wasn’t the time or place to discuss it.
“Get dressed. If you have a scarf and sunglasses to cover your bruises, wear them. Don’t take anything. I’m getting you out of here.”
The girl’s shoulders slumped. “I have nowhere to go.”
For some reason, Eva had been expecting that. Tessa had that lost, helpless and hopeless look about her. “Nonsense. I’m taking you home with me.”
Tessa opened her mouth to say something, but then she shut it and ran to do as she was told.
Smart girl.
Eva grabbed a dishrag from the kitchen and wiped the candleholder clean, then repeated the process with the door handle. By the time she was done, Tessa had come back with a scarf wrapped around her head, hiding her bruises and cut cheek, and a pair of big sunglasses covering her swollen eyes.
“Follow me. Keep quiet as a mouse until I tell you it’s okay to talk. Got it?” Eva said as she closed the door using the dishrag. She was going to keep the damn thing with her until she could burn it.
The girl nodded.
Back at Wilbert’s place, Tessa waited by the door as Eva put the innocuous-looking candleholder on the coffee table.
As she left the girl on the couch to go retrieve her things from the bedroom, Eva had the passing thought that for years to come neither Wilbert nor his guests would suspect what that decorative piece had been used for.
Thankfully, Wilbert was a sound sleeper and didn’t wake up as Eva gathered her stuff and tiptoed out.
She’d left him a souvenir, her panties that were lost somewhere under his bed, and a note with a phone number to call her. In order to collect her fat check, she still needed to get more details about the deal he was cooking. Wilbert would call, she had no doubt about it. He’d want a repeat of the mind-blowing sex.
This side gig as a rescuer, or perhaps vigilante, shouldn’t affect her performance on the job. Eva’s reputation as one of the best corporate detectives in the area was on the line.
Chapter
2: Eva
“Tessa, have you confirmed my flight reservations and checked me in?” Eva asked more out of habit than necessity. Tessa was an excellent personal assistant—organized and methodical—and there was no way she’d forgotten.
Tessa’s smile was part sweet and part indulgent. “Your first-class seat on Copa Airlines to Rio De Janeiro is confirmed. It leaves as scheduled at six forty-five.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.” And so was her client who was footing the bill for the ticket and the luxury hotel.
The first time Eva had flown to Rio had been on an assignment for the same client, except it hadn’t been about his business. The guy had hired Eva to spy on his much younger wife, whom he’d suspected of cheating on him while visiting her family. The client had been so relieved when Eva reported the woman innocent, that he’d paid her a nice bonus and had been using her services to spy on his business competitors ever since.
Eva owed him for introducing her to that lucrative niche market. The pay was much better, and no family drama. Win-win for Eva.
“You’re welcome, and thank you for the compliment.”
“It’s well deserved. You’re a life saver.”
“Ditto.”
Five years ago, when Eva had rescued her and taken her in, Tessa hadn’t known how to use a computer: shocking for a sixteen-year-old, though understandable given her tragic circumstances. But she was smart and had caught up quickly, joining Eva’s crews of misfits, as she liked to call her employees, slash tenants, slash adopted family. They could never replace her Nathalie, but to Eva, Sharon, Nick, and later Tessa meant much more than just people working in her detective agency.
She treated them as if they were her kids, which they thought was hilarious because Eva looked no older than twenty-five.
God, it was hard to believe she’d just celebrated her eightieth birthday—probably because most of the time she felt as young as she looked.
“You should start getting ready,” Tessa said.
“I know.”
“Here, I made you a list of things you need to pack. You always forget something.” She handed Eva a printed page.