RedKnife (Skin Walkers Book 2)

by Susan Bliler

  She went into the bathroom, but he didn’t follow. He was an asshole, but not a complete bastard. He’d give her the privacy she deserved. Short minutes later, after the flush of the toilet and the long blasting of water, Cindy emerged wearing a satiny-white nightgown. The garment hung to just above her knee and swayed as she drew a brush through her hair. He swallowed hard. The sheer gown clung to her frame and drew his attention to the outline of her full breasts and the pert nipples that poked the fabric.

  He felt arousal stir and snapped his eyes toward the door, waiting impatiently.

  Monroe had informed him that King was on his way to extract them. The thought of King seeing her in her nightgown had him gnashing his back teeth.

  He shook himself hard in an attempt to get his head back in the game. He was to extract Ms. Sambrano with little fanfare. He and King were to bring the potential traitor back to StoneCrow. Part of RedKnife wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but no woman was worth the sacrifice of the Walkers being able to live a peaceful existence at StoneCrow. Even a woman who drew him as no other had before.

  His eyes tracked Cindy as she disappeared back into the bathroom before reemerging just as quickly sans brush. He watched her stop at her nightstand, apply balm to her lips, and then squirt lotion into her hands before slathering the vanilla-scented concoction onto her hands, arms, and face. If this was her nightly ritual, it was tedious.

  Finally, she climbed into bed, clicked off the lamp, and settled beneath the blankets. Good. RedKnife would let her sleep until King arrived. Settling stretched out on the floor, he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest as the sound of her light breathing lulled him.

  A short hour later, RedKnife blinked. His eyes were still focused on Cindy, but his ears picked up her distress before he ever saw her move. Ears pricked, he listened harder, trying to ensure he hadn’t imagined the soft, pleading sound.

  Cindy jerked, then cried out. “No!”

  Hackles now up, RedKnife sprang to all four paws. Had someone slipped into the house unnoticed? His eyes jerked around the room as his nostrils flared, drawing in all scents.

  “Cody! Don’t leave me!”

  Cindy’s plea had his eyes snapping back to her. Eyes still closed, she moaned, then rolled to her side.

  A dream?

  “Don’t leave,” she sobbed again, and RedKnife was startled to see tears slipping down her cheek.

  Nightmare.

  She was dreaming, and it wasn’t pleasant. The fact that she was dreaming about the man that had shoved her around earlier angered RedKnife. The fact that she was crying over the prick enraged him.

  She begged ‘no’ once more and RedKnife had enough. He barked, just once, but it was enough. She quieted and then slowly stirred awake.

  Sitting, he watched intently as she sniffed and then lifted her hands to rub at her cheeks.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, in what sounded like self-reproach as her fingers encountered her tears.

  She sat up, swiping at her cheeks, sniffling again before turning on the lamp, flinging the covers aside, and abandoning her bed to pad to the kitchen.

  He didn’t follow.

  Moments later, she returned with a large glass of water. Lifting it to her lips with a shaky hand, he watched as her slender throat convulsed with a few swallows before she placed the glass on her night stand. One leg was already hiked up onto the mattress, and she was reaching to turn off the lamp when she stilled at the sound of a vehicle outside.

  RedKnife tensed. King had arrived, but he was surprised Cindy had heard. The blacked-out trucks used at StoneCrow were intentionally muted so as not to attract attention or signal an arrival.

  It was time.

  Chapter 9

  Cindy rushed to the window. Peeling back the curtain by a mere fraction, she peeked out and cursed. “Shit!” Spinning, she hurried to the lamp and cut the light, bathing the room in darkness before she hurried to the bathroom to dress. RedKnife took advantage of the opportunity to rush out to the front room. He shifted quickly and unlocked the front door before returning to stand in the shadow of the doorway just outside Cindy’s room.

  She raced out of the bathroom with an armful of clothes, dropping them hurriedly on the bed. She was shaking out a pair of jeans and had just bent over to cram a leg into them when she stilled.

  Slowly, she turned and locked fear-filled eyes on the darkened doorway. RedKnife knew she sensed him there.

  He stepped into the room, directly into the path of the glow from the streetlight that filtered through the curtain.

  “R-RedKnife?” Her voice was tremulous, and he scented her escalating fear. “What are you…” She eyed the doorway behind him. “What are you doing in my apartment? W-what do you want?”

  He wanted to soothe her with a lie, but the truth was, he had bad intentions. She’d be taken to StoneCrow, where she would be interrogated by Monroe. It wouldn’t be pretty.

  “You.” His voice was deep, sounding more menacing than he’d intended.

  Cindy shook her head. “Why? What?” She swallowed hard. “What’s going on?”

  He took another step toward her and held out a hand, palm up, curling his fingers inward to indicate that she should come to him. “Monroe has questions.”

  She paled, then moved more quickly than RedKnife expected. One second she was half bent in an attempt to dress, and the next her body turned, her hand snaking out and coming up with the knife.

  “S-stay back!” Her words held little conviction, as if she weren’t sure she should even make the demand.

  He took a step closer, and it was a mistake. She jerked back, bumping the table. The glass of water toppled off the stand and crashed to the floor, bathing her feet in water and surrounding her with broken glass.

  RedKnife frowned at her feet. “Don’t move.” His intention was to move her safely away from the glass, but she was clearly terrified by his movement. Stepping away from him, she slipped and went down hard. RedKnife reached for her, but she scrambled back. The scent of her panic and fear was overwhelming.

  Her gown soaked up the water, and RedKnife inhaled slowly, only to scent her blood. She’d hurt herself. He growled in frustration and regret, then just as quickly throttled the sound when she lifted the knife higher, her trembling hands barely able to hold the damn thing steady.

  “Stay back!” Her eyes darted from him to her foot, then her thigh. She brushed a hand over her hip and down her leg, and RedKnife wanted to snarl when he saw the crimson path that followed.

  He squatted to get eye level with her. “You’re hurt.” He titled his head sideways to study her. “You’re making this worse.”

  He dug into his front shirt pocket and pulled something out. Cindy thought it looked like an e-cigarette, or a small tube of some sort. She was trying to figure out what it was when he put it to his lips.

  His eyes didn’t leave hers as his breath escaped him in a hard push of air. It was then she felt the pinch. She hadn’t seen anything leave the object in the dark, but her shaking fingers quickly moved to just below her collar bone, pulling out a small object imbedded in her skin. Dropping her eyes from his face, she inspected the tiny, needle-like projectile. Is that? It looked like a porcupine quill. She rolled it between her fingers, noting an oily substance coating the surface.

  Confusion marred her delicate brow seconds before her body heated uncontrollably. The knife clattered to the floor as her arms lost all their strength, and she whimpered in fear. She was falling to the side when RedKnife caught her.

  “Shhhh,” he soothed, smoothing the hair back from her face. Her terror-filled eyes tore at him. “No one will hurt you.” The words felt hollow though as she lay defenseless in his arms, her gown soaked and blood seeping from several wounds on her body. Monroe would, in fact, inflict pain if she failed to cooperate, or if they discovered she was working with the Megalya.

  Cindy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. As she struggled to stay lucid, one lone word escaped her lips a
s her eyes fluttered closed. “Don’t!”

  RedKnife lifted her easily from the floor and settled her on the bed before flipping on the lamp. He disappeared into the bathroom and dug around under her sink until he found a first-aid kit.

  “RedKnife?”

  He ignored King’s telepathic query and set to work inspecting Cindy’s injuries. She’d cut the bottoms of both feet, and he pulled a large piece of jagged glass from one foot before wrapping the foot with gauze and tightly taping it. She’d definitely need to be seen by Jenny once they reached StoneCrow. Funny though, how his mind pondered how well she’d heal without medical attention.

  Several more wounds to her thigh, hip, and one palm were wrapped, then he stilled to eye her nightgown. It was soaked. His eyes flitted to the window, and he weighed his options. It was winter in Montana, which meant it was arctic conditions outside. In fact, it hadn’t stopped snowing for days. According to weather reports, meteorologists couldn’t explain the sudden storm that had hit North Central Montana.

  Crossing to the dresser, he jerked it open and rifled through until his hand came out with a long flannel nightgown. Much better.

  It took him seconds to strip her bare, but then he stalled as his eyes roved her body. She was exquisite. Her breasts were full and her hips flared just enough to make his hands itch. Bending, he smoothed a rough hand up her rib cage, resting it just under the swell of one bare breast. She wore panties under her gown, but no bra, and the sight was mesmerizing. He cupped her breast and kneaded it, surprised at the softness that evoked such a rigid response in his jeans.

  “RedKnife, you need me?”

  He jerked his hand free and straightened, ashamed at having fondled the woman in her unconscious state, but unable to stop himself.

  “No.” His response was clipped.

  Pulling the comforter from the bed, he wrapped Cindy and lifted her. Exiting the house, he found King waiting outside the door.

  As RedKnife exited, King entered. Per protocol, King would clean up any mess to ensure that if anyone came looking for her they’d suspect no foul play.

  Settling his burden in the backseat of the truck King had brought, RedKnife climbed into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle before backing out. King would shift and fly back to StoneCrow once he’d completed his task.

  No one would suspect anything until RedKnife failed to arrive at StoneCrow with the alleged traitor.

  Chapter 10

  When he’d made the decision to take the woman, he wasn’t sure, but as he raced north, he knew it wouldn’t be long before King was flying back to StoneCrow. That meant that King would inquire into RedKnife’s arrival, and then all hell would break loose.

  Why he’d chosen to go north when the road east was a safer bet, he wasn’t sure. Something about the North simply called to him.

  His eyes darted to the feminine burden sleeping soundly in the backseat. He’d stolen an enemy right out from under Monroe, and there’d be hell to pay for deceiving the Dominant Walker.

  What are you doing? He couldn’t help but ask himself, but something about the way she’d been when she was alone with him…well, him in dog form, told him she wasn’t an evil person. She was world-weary, and certainly beaten down, but not malicious in the least. In fact, she’d been willing to share what little food she had with a stray dog.

  “We could run away, and all we’d have to worry about is each other and food.” Her words played back to him, and he wondered if she wasn’t some form of siren who’d bewitched him with her sultry tone and feminine wiles, because he had, in fact, taken her and run away. He’d been unable to help himself. After her breakdown, he’d felt an inexplicable tensing of his body as the overwhelming need to protect her seized him. Then she’d had her nightmare, and the urge to protect grew into possessiveness when she’d muttered that ass Cody’s name. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d learned enough over the years to understand that, if his gut was telling him something, to go with it. So he did.

  Unsure where to go, he simply drove. The roads to Havre were bad as the snow continued to fall, but it didn’t prevent him from shooting through the city and continuing north. He didn’t have connections like the other Walkers, and there was no cabin, bunker, or house tucked away somewhere that belonged to him. Hell, he’d even scoffed at the credit cards Monroe had handed out to each of the Sentries. RedKnife’s probably still sat on the counter of the unused cabin assigned to him at StoneCrow. At the time, he’d prided himself on his self-sufficiency. What kind of man would he be if he needed the assistance of others? Now, he regretted not having made better choices. If he’d done as many other Sentries had and secured a private residence off-site, he’d have a place to run to now. As it was, he had nothing but the truck he’d taken from King, a wad of cash in his pocket that King had recommend he carry in case of emergencies, and the unconscious woman in the back seat.

  What he did possess, that most other Walkers didn’t, was a wealth of knowledge about the state itself. Unlike the other Walkers, who spent their evenings tucked in tight at StoneCrow and working daily at the Estate, RedKnife was more restless. He traveled far and wide in Montana, and spent the majority of his time outdoors. He knew how to survive, and he knew where to go when he didn’t want to be found.

  Cindy moaned in the backseat, drawing his attention. He’d need to settle in someplace soon. The drug he’d shot her with would be wearing off, and he didn’t want the hassle of having to deal with the drama that was sure to ensue while he was driving.

  Thinking back to a pow-wow he’d watched from the cover of the forest, he set a course for Mission Canyon on the Fort Belknap reservation. The location would be perfect. He’d hit the grocery store in Havre and stock up while Cindy was still out, then he’d disappear on the rez. He blended well there, and with it being winter, he knew the pow-wow grounds would be vacant. Several of the cabins in the canyon were used only seasonally, which meant they’d be able to hole up somewhere other than a mountainside cave.

  ***

  Cindy stirred as smoke tickled her nose. It smelled nice, but it didn’t make sense that she was so cold. Slowly peeling her eyes open, she studied the massive back hunched in front of a stone hearth, probing at the fire with a poker.

  Shit! Memory slammed back. Quietly eyeing the room, she searched for a weapon, or a phone, or an ally. It was too dark. The only thing she could make out was RedKnife squatting in front of her and her breath escaping in a frigid puff.

  Easing up onto an elbow, she stilled when RedKnife’s head snapped up. When he turned slowly to pin her with a dark frown, she held her breath.

  Wordlessly he stood and dropped the poker. It clanged off the wooden floor and had Cindy recoiling as she watched him warily.

  He disappeared behind the couch and as she sat up, the room was flooded with light. Blinking against the sudden brightness, Cindy was surprised to find that what she had previously thought was an old, run-down cabin was anything but. It was nice. Cold, but nice.

  RedKnife paced the room, flipping on light switches to expose more of the room before disappearing out the front door, only to return a few minutes later, arms laden with snow covered fire wood that he piled next to the fireplace. The door was left wide-open, letting wind whip into the cabin and stir the snowflakes scattered on the wood floor into a frenzy.

  She swallowed hard. “Uh…” She cleared her throat. “Um, R-RedKnife?”

  He turned to look at her but didn’t speak.

  “What am I doing here?” She scanned the quaint little cabin. “Is Monroe here?”

  RedKnife shook his head once.

  “Is…is he coming?”

  Another hard shake of his head.

  Okay, so he doesn’t talk much. She remembered back to what Monroe had said. RedKnife didn’t speak often, and he didn’t like being indoors. Funny, every time she’d seen him, he’d been inside.

  Cindy slowly got to her feet and staggered. Hearing a growl, she jerked her eyes up to find Red
Knife first scowling at her, then pointedly shifting his eyes back to the couch. It was clear he wanted her to sit back down, so she did. With little else to do, she took stock. Her head was pounding, and her mouth was dry. She coughed weakly, and when it drew her attention she asked, “May I have some water?”

  His scowl softened a little before he turned and stalked to the small kitchenette. It was all she needed. With the door standing wide open, she didn’t lose anytime fumbling with the knob. She’d just raced down the cabin’s front steps when she heard glass breaking behind her. It was enough incitement to get her ass moving.

  She didn’t make it far. Two steps into the deep snow and her feet left the ground. She sucked in a breath to scream, but just as it left her, a large hand clamped over her mouth. She fought, but it didn’t last long. Whatever he’d shot her with had sapped all her energy, so by the time he hauled her back to the cabin and tossed her onto the couch, she was spent.

  “Well, what did you expect me to do?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest to ward off the chill.

  He didn’t respond, just stomped to the kitchen to clean up the broken glass and the puddle of water.

  Cindy jerked her head around to scowl at the still open door. “Maybe, if you wouldn’t have left the door wide open, I wouldn’t have taken a chance at running.” She shivered hard as she eyed him expectantly.

  RedKnife’s eyes shot to the door then to her before he slowly rose to cross to the door and, albeit reluctantly, closed it, sealing them inside the cabin.

  “Look,” she began, hoping for a calm, adult conversation. “If Monroe needed to speak with me, you could have waited until I went to work. You didn’t have to come to my apartment in the middle of the night, break in, and scare me half to death.”

  Silence.

  “I know you can talk. You spoke to me just fine at the Crow’s Nest. So…” She left her sentence open ended, hoping he’d stop with the silent treatment and tell her what in the hell was going on.

  “You need to talk to me!” She demanded. “Tell me what the fuck is going on!” It came out sounding a little more hysterical than she’d intended.