Warlord

by Angela Knight

  Tom frowned, considering the idea. “So how would my falsifying a report help you?”

  “If you leave a paper trail that shows Baran in custody during a particular period of time, Druas will think he’s got a clear field to me.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “But that means the fraud would have to be rock-solid. If it ever came out that I hadn’t had you in custody, the creep would know it was a trick.”

  “Yeah.” Baran folded his arms, his expression grim. “You’d have to keep the secret until you died.”

  “Shit. It’s not that easy, Arvid. Even at this hour, there are people at the department and people at the jail. They’d know you were never there. And I’d lose my badge.”

  There was a desperate, thrumming silence while they tried to figure out a solution to that problem.

  “What if you were questioning him somewhere else?” Jane asked suddenly. “It doesn’t have to be that you actually arrested him, just that you could attest that he was in a given location at a given time. Maybe you could say he attacked you here.”

  “But that wouldn’t get you alone,” Baran pointed out. “I’d never have let you out of my sight.”

  “Druas doesn’t know that. Look, Tom could say I was horrified that you’d actually attacked him, so I ran off. You held him for a while, but then he escaped and you ran. It would create a window of time when I’d be left unprotected.”

  Baran shook his head. “Druas wouldn’t fall for that.”

  “If it’s in the paperwork and Tom swears it happened that way, why wouldn’t he?”

  “Neither of us would be that stupid.”

  “People are uncharacteristically stupid all the time,” Jane said. “Besides, Druas believes he’s smarter than the rest of the universe. He wants to believe we’re that dumb.”

  Tom sat forward and braced his hands on his knees. “You have no way of knowing whether this guy is going to take the bait. You’re asking me to put my career on the line on the off chance this is going to work. If it doesn’t, I’m fucked.”

  “If it does, no other women will get killed,” Baran told him. “Including Jane.”

  He sighed. “Shit, when you put it that way…But what if he does take the bait and you can’t beat him?”

  Baran’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not going to be a problem. One way or another, Druas is dead.”

  Tom sat back in his chair. “I’d object to that just on general principles, but practically speaking, I can’t offer an alternative. Even if I arrested the bastard, I doubt a prison would hold him, not given the abilities you describe.”

  “And you’d lose a lot of cops during his escape.”

  “You sure I can’t help take the fucker down?”

  Baran shook his head. “Too risky. If he got his hands on you, you wouldn’t have a prayer. I’m going to have my hands full keeping Jane alive as it is. I don’t need to worry about triggering a temporal paradox by losing you.”

  “So how do you know telling me all this won’t cause one of those paradoxes all by itself?”

  “It won’t,” Baran said.

  He lifted a brow. “You sound pretty damn certain.”

  “He is,” Freika said from the floor of the deck. “We’re all still alive, aren’t we?”

  Tom stared at the wolf. “You mean…Never mind.” He sighed and looked over at Baran again. “So, have you got a gun? I figure if I’m committing career suicide, I might as well do it right.”

  “I’ve got one at home,” Jane told him.

  Baran shook his head. “Wouldn’t do much good anyway.” He told Tom about Druas’s armor and reinforced bones.

  “Huh.” The detective contemplated the problem. “How about a knife?”

  “That’d work.” He shrugged. “I could always slit the bastard’s throat. Better than being unarmed.” He grimaced. “Actually, I should have picked one up earlier.”

  “I’ve got a bowie knife with a sheathe I use for deer hunting, if you want to use it.”

  “Are you sure, Tom?” Jane asked. “If Baran uses that knife to kill Druas…”

  The detective waved a dismissive hand. “That asshole needs to go down. Whatever I can do to help, I’m going to do. Give me a minute.” He got up to open the glass door and slip inside.

  Baran took a deep breath and looked at Jane. “Well, you were right.”

  Jane shrugged. “Tom cares more about protecting people than career building.” She looked at him steadily. “He’ll keep the secret until he dies, Baran.”

  “Yeah.” For a moment they fell silent. Baran stared off across the yard at the moon riding just over the trees. “This plan is risky as hell,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t like it.”

  She shook her head. “You know I’m the only one who can pull it off.”

  “Maybe, but it’s so damn risky….” He straightened from his pose leaning against the deck railing and walked over to her. His expression going even grimmer, he slipped the suit-nullifying ring off his finger. Then to her surprise, he knelt on the deck beside her and took her hand. Solemnly he slipped the ring on her finger. Its alien metal automatically shrank to fit. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  Staring into the fierce vow in his eyes, Jane curled her fingers around his. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”

  Eighteen

  Jane’s heart thudded so hard it seemed to choke her, and her mouth was utterly dry. She fought to concentrate on the road and ignore the clawing terror she felt.

  She was aware of Baran’s eyes on her in the darkness as he crouched in the floorboard of the car, his big body coiled uncomfortably. Freika was stretched out across the bench seat in the front, his furry head almost in her lap. They were both sensor shielded—using their computers to generate a nulling field to keep Druas from picking up their life signs. But the field didn’t work on visible light, so they had to stay out of sight.

  For the purposes of the trap, they needed to make it look as if she was driving home alone in Tom’s “stolen” patrol car.

  The detective had decided to let them borrow the car, since that was the only way they could be sure of smuggling Baran and the wolf in past Druas. Unfortunately, since his report would claim Jane had taken it without his permission, there was a distinct possibility she could face charges for it later. She’d decided she’d worry about that problem if she managed to live through the next hour.

  And she wasn’t making any bets on that.

  As they’d made their way toward Tom’s house earlier that night, they’d decided Jane had the best chance of getting close enough to Druas long enough to use the ring. If she could distract him while she touched him with it, he might not realize what was happening until it was too late. As soon as the ring disabled the suit, Baran and Freika would attack.

  Of course, the really tricky part of the whole plan was the period while the two were hiding just out of Druas’s sight. Even though they’d be watching, if he went after her before she managed to disable the suit, she could get hurt before they could come to the rescue.

  Fortunately—though that might not be the right word—Druas’s M.O. was to strangle his victims before he used the knife, which should give Baran and Freika enough time to interfere. Unfortunately, as strong as Druas was, Jane could still end up dying slowly with a crushed larynx.

  The whole plan was risky as hell. Baran hated it; it went deeply against his grain to take a risk of that magnitude with Jane’s life. Unfortunately, every other option they came up with carried a virtual certainty that Druas would simply Jump to freedom and return to attack Jane later. And there was no telling how many women he’d kill in the meantime.

  All of which had made perfect logical sense when she’d argued for the plan during that hike through the woods. But now, in the car on the way to face a monster, it seemed a hell of a lot less convincing.

  He’ll kill you, Jane, her father’s ghost whispered, sibilant in the darkness. You’re not smart enough to fool him. He’ll see through the act and
slit your throat on the spot.

  No, she told herself. I can do this. Baran will protect me.

  Glancing down at the ring gleaming dully in the light of the dashboard, she remembered the look in his eyes when he’d slipped it on her finger. The knot of fear eased fractionally.

  Baran reached up from the floor of the car and cupped her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. Jane looked over at him. He didn’t speak, yet something in his gaze spoke of love and determination. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked hard and returned her attention to the road.

  Jesus, she realized suddenly, I really am in love with him.

  Jane knew she should probably find that realization disquieting—after all, even if they all survived this fight, he was going to disappear from her life within hours. She’d never see him again. Yet as she contemplated the love that had been quietly growing over the past few days, she found herself grateful.

  She needed all the strength she could get.

  Baran watched the single tear roll down Jane’s cheek and felt his heart contract in his chest. He wanted to take her in his arms. Hell, he wanted to tell her to turn the car around and forget the whole thing. There were a dozen ways this insane plan could go wrong.

  Unfortunately, he also knew that in combat, you sometimes had to take a chance because it was all you had. This was one of those times.

  He had every intention of minimizing the danger as much as he could. He and Freika would conceal themselves as close as possible, and they’d never take their eyes off Jane and Druas. But he still couldn’t eliminate the risk completely.

  The moment of greatest danger would come when she touched Druas with the ring. If the Jumpkiller realized what she was doing…

  Baran would have to get to him first. And he would. That bastard was not going to hurt Jane. Baran had already lost Liisa to him; that was more than enough.

  Odd. For years he’d been driven by the obsession of finding Liisa’s killer and giving him as bloody and painful a death as possible. Yet now Baran realized he would happily forgo his vengeance if it would mean keeping Jane alive.

  Nothing he did would bring Liisa back to life—but it might prevent Jane’s death. And that was all Baran really cared about. One way or another he was going to keep her safe. And he didn’t much care what he had to do in the process.

  Jane pulled into her driveway with her stomach coiled into a solid knot. “Is he here?” she murmured, scarcely moving her lips.

  “Yeah,” Baran whispered. “I’ve got him on sensors, waiting out in the trees.”

  She swallowed hard and lied. “Good.”

  Her hands so damp with sweat it was all she could do to turn the wheel, she backed the patrol car into the SUV’s customary spot. She ordinarily parked facing the other direction, but she needed the driver’s door next to the house. In that position the bulk of the car would block Druas’s view while Baran and Freika got out.

  It was a good thing she didn’t have a porch, she thought; the extra elevation would have made them impossible to miss.

  Jane got out and walked to open the front door, leaving the car door standing open. As Baran duck-walked inside with the wolf slinking at his heels, she pretended to remember to lock Tom’s car.

  A moment later she slipped back inside and closed the door behind her. “How long do we have before he comes in?”

  “I have no idea,” Baran said, straightening from his crouch to look toward the woods as if he could see right through the wall. Which, given his sensors, he evidently could. “He’s maintaining position now.”

  “Okay. Let’s head upstairs.” There were several places they could conceal themselves up there.

  She just hoped they had time to do it.

  Baran and Frieka slipped up the stairs ahead of her. Jane, following, thought there was something dreamlike about anyone as big as the Warlord moving so silently.

  When they walked into her bedroom, Freika immediately headed for the walk-in closet. Before he slipped inside, he shot them a long-suffering gaze. “Hiding in a closet—really, this is so undignified. Not to mention clichéd. You do realize I’m mortally embarrassed?”

  Jane grinned despite her clawing nerves. She’d had no idea a wolf’s face could even do disgruntled. “Yeah, it sucks. I appreciate your sacrifice, Freika.”

  He sniffed. “See that you do.” He slipped inside and hunkered down on the floor, ready to spring.

  Baran, meanwhile, eyed the closet’s doors dubiously. Jane realized what he was thinking; they were designed to open by folding to either side, a process that might take too long. He shrugged and looked at her. “Hell with it. I’ll be in riatt—I’ll just smash ’em.”

  Jane nodded shortly. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel the pulse in her ears. She badly wanted to run to the bathroom and throw up.

  Baran’s hard expression gentled. “You’ll be fine,” he said softly, and took her chin in his hand.

  The kiss he gave her was hot enough to burn as his lips moved hungrily over hers, his tongue sweeping inside to stroke and claim. His body felt so big and warm against hers. She let herself lean into him, greedily drinking in the comfort.

  As the kiss spun out, his mobile mouth seemed to make another one of those silent vows of protection and passion. Something about it drove back the fear beating at her.

  Then they both heard the front door open downstairs. Baran deepened the kiss, then stepped into the closet.

  Jane’s heart gave a hard thump as the folding door slid closed. At least they’d be able to see through the slats, while Druas would be unable to see them.

  She turned and moved quickly to the nightstand to open the drawer. Her father’s gun lay inside, loaded and ready. For once, the weapon was a comfort instead of a symbol of doubt and fear.

  Hearing a tread on the stairs, Jane pulled out an old romance novel and slid the drawer partially closed.

  I’m not going to throw up, she told herself fiercely. I can do this. All I’ve got to do is rest the ring against his suit for a few seconds. I can do that.

  You’re going to die, her father’s ghost hissed.

  Fuck you, Daddy.

  The bedroom door opened. Baran walked in. But he’d just stepped into the closet….

  For an instant, Jane was confused. Then it hit her. It was Druas. The son of a bitch was using his imagizer to look like Baran. He thought the Warlord was still back at Tom’s house, as the report Tom would falsify would claim he was.

  The killer smiled Baran’s smile at her. “I decided you were right. I’d never be able to convince the detective I didn’t do it. Taking him hostage was a mistake.”

  Suddenly Jane’s fear was gone, washed away by pure rage. The bastard was playing a game with her, planning to use her love for Baran against her.

  For once, years of hiding her emotions from her abusive father stood Jane in good stead. Her face automatically fell into the sweet, doll-like smile she’d learned under Bill Colby’s belt. “I’m glad you saw the light,” she said. “Once Tom gets an idea into his head, you couldn’t pry it loose with a crowbar.”

  “Yeah,” Druas said in Baran’s deep voice. He tried a smile of his own, but now Jane realized how unlike her lover’s it really was. Evidently the computer used the expression he was actually wearing on the face of the projected image. The result was like looking at a perfect mask of the man she loved—worn over the face of something cold and reptilian.

  He moved closer to her. “I thought we might as well make use of what time we’ve got left together.”

  I’ll just bet you do, you son of a bitch. But did he really want to have sex, or was he just trying to get close enough to kill her?

  Either way, she had to play along just long enough to rest her hand on his chest until the ring disabled his suit.

  If he didn’t kill her before it could do its job.

  Baran had never felt such rage in his life, not even when he heard Liisa’s last scream. The idea that Druas had dared to wear his
face while planning to murder Jane made him want to pound the killer to a bloody bag of shattered bone. He’d been about to drive right through the closet door when Freika had caught his hand in fanged jaws, jolting him back to his senses.

  Now he crouched, seething in the darkness, watching through the door slats and praying to all his people’s gods he’d be in time to stop whatever Druas was planning.

  He had to go to riaat at just the right moment. If he entered the berserker state too soon, he wouldn’t be able to maintain it all the way through the battle; too late and he might not have the strength to save Jane when he needed it.

  At least she was playing her role to the hilt. He’d been afraid that she couldn’t control her justifiable terror. Yet the minute Druas had walked in, she’d gone icily calm.

  Now she was smiling into the murderer’s face, projecting seductive warmth, almost glowing with sensuality as she flirted, quite literally, with death. Even Druas looked fascinated. Despite his fear, Baran felt the rise of admiration mixed with a curious pride. A week ago he would never have thought a civilian capable of such cool, brassy courage.

  But then, Jane was no typical civilian.

  He just had to make damn sure he was ready to snatch her clear when the killer made his move.

  Jane decided she needed to work closer to Baran before she touched the Jumpkiller. Ideally, she wanted Druas beside the closet so the Warlord could take him in one easy lunge. The trick was maneuvering the killer without giving the game away.

  Smiling that not-Baran smile, Druas reached for her. With a light, flirtatious laugh, she stepped back and slipped past him, giving her hips a taunting little sway.

  “Oh, you do enjoy playing with fire,” Druas said, dropping his reaching hand as he watched her saunter around the bed.

  She shrugged and gave him a wicked smile. “What can I say—I like it hot. But then, so do you.” And you’re about to get seriously burned, you bastard.

  “The hotter the better.” He grinned and swaggered after her. How he thought anybody could mistake him for Baran with those empty shark eyes, she did not know.