Vision of Darkness (D.I.E. Squadron Book 1)

by Tonya Burrows

  He was telling her to call and verify his lie? Definitely nuts. She had to get him out of her house and maybe call Sheriff Forbes about the encounter. Then she’d call Alex and he’d laugh and tell her he was on his way home and everything would be fine.

  Doubt whispered through her mind.

  No! She didn’t want to doubt Alex, but the idea took root and bloomed. All those times she felt like he was holding back…and the times he acted as if he had a split personality…

  What if he wasn’t who he said he was?

  It would kill her. Plain and simple. She’d told Alex she wouldn’t survive another broken heart and meant it. Would he really be so callous as to soothe away those fears knowing with every word, every caress, that he was lying? Could someone fake the kind of emotion she saw in him as they made love?

  She pressed a hand to her chest, already feeling the first fissures of pain, and stared at the phone as if it was a gun. God. She didn’t want to touch it. Really did not want to.

  “Call him,” Jones said.

  To buy time, she returned to the sink, filled a glass from the dish drainer, and took a long swallow to ease the sudden tightness in her throat.

  “Call him. When you find out the truth, you’ll see him for what he is. He’s dangerous and I need you to lure him back so I can take him out.”

  Crazy. It was all crazy talk. “No.”

  “We’re at war, Pru,” Jones said with so much conviction she almost believed him for half a second. “The Unnaturals need to be eliminated before they eliminate us.”

  “Stop it.” Trembling, she set the glass down on the counter, not trusting herself to keep hold of it. “You’re crazy. I’m not playing this game.”

  “Call him!”

  She flinched at his sharp tone and reached for the offered phone. “Fine. But only to prove you’re wrong.”

  Jones grinned. She turned her back on him and dialed out Alex’s cell phone number. It rang and rang until a mechanical voice told her to leave a message. She didn’t bother and hung up, spinning back to face Jones. “No answer.”

  “Try again.”

  “He’s not answering.”

  Jones grabbed the phone from her hand and shoved it in her face. “Try again, dammit! I need him back here.”

  Gulping, she took the receiver and again dialed the number.

  CHAPTER 31

  Half past eleven, Alex’s phone rang. By that time, he’d caught a flight to Bangor and was well on his way back to Three Churches in a rental car. Still a little less than an hour away, eyes gritty with fatigue, his dread mounted with each passing mile.

  Bad. This was all bad.

  His inner cynic screamed to turn the car around and go the other way, but that ugly protective instinct of his was snapping at the end of its leash, desperate to get to Pru, and propelled him onward as fog rolled over the road and rain spattered his windshield in erratic fits. All of his concentration went into keeping the car on the wildly twisting road and he couldn’t be bothered with a phone call.

  But then it started ringing again. And again. And again.

  Fuck.

  He snatched the cell phone out of the cup holder and answered without looking at the ID. “Brennan.”

  A sharp gasp replied. “Oh God. He’s right.”

  Shit. “Pru, hold on. Let me explain—”

  “Who are you?” Her voice cracked.

  “It’s still me. Alex.”

  “Alex what?”

  He could barely form the words. “Brennan. Alex Brennan.”

  A long silence stretched on the other end, punctured only by soft sobs. Christ, he’d give anything to be there soothing her tears away. He had planned to do this tonight—had wanted to do it long before now—but not over the phone when he couldn’t be there to remind her that he was still the man she thought he was, just with a different name.

  “Pru, you have to understand, I didn’t—”

  “Are you a security specialist?” she demanded.

  “No, not really.”

  “Were you a marine? Do you really have an ill brother? Or are they all make-believe stories too?”

  “They’re all true.”

  “That’s something,” she spat.

  “I only lied about my name and my job.” He tried to keep the desperate edge from his tone and miserably failed. Please, don’t push me away.

  “But you lied! I let you into my house, into my bed, into my heart and you were lying the whole time.”

  He drew a breath. A knife to the heart would have hurt less than the pain in her voice. “Lookit, Pru, it was a mistake. I’m messed up. Half the time I don’t even know who I am—”

  “You know what? Forget it,” she said in a hollow tone. “Stay away from me, okay? Stay in Boston. I’ll send Nick along with your things. I don’t want to see you again.”

  Too bad ’cause Armageddon wasn’t going to stop him from getting to her.

  Bad. This is all very bad.

  Alex heard a man’s voice in the background and stiffened, fear flash-freezing his chest. “Who’s there with you?”

  “That’s not your business anymore.” The man’s voice sounded again, urging her to do or say something. “Go fuck yourself,” she told him, then came back to the phone. “You can too. I’m done with men.”

  Bile burned in his throat. Her voice had changed subtly, picked up a hard edge he’d never heard from her before. In fact, he’d never heard her drop the f-bomb before.

  Christ, he really fucked up, should have trusted her with the truth from the get-go. He was done pretending to be someone else. He’d never lie to her again as long as he drew breath—he just hoped he’d have the chance to prove it.

  You won’t. Turn the car around and go back to Boston, asshole. She doesn’t want you anymore.

  He ignored his inner cynic and tried again, softening his voice. “Pru, please, get out of there. This whole thing doesn’t feel right. I’ll explain everything, but you need to get the hell away from whoever that is. I’ll pick you up in town, okay?”

  “Oh, right. One of your so-called feelings. Why the hell should I trust your feelings, Mr. Brennan?”

  “Because—” He bit off the automatic reply. No more lies. Even the ones he told himself. Starting now. “Because, dammit,” he said through his teeth, each word ripped from his throat, “I’m clairvoyant and I’m never wrong.”

  Pru snorted. “Hah. This from the man who doesn’t believe in such things?”

  He grimaced. The acidic tone was nothing less than he deserved. “Please, just do this for me. You can hate me for the rest of your life afterward, but the rest of your life won’t be very long if you don’t leave that place now.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she asked in mock horror. “So what? You can’t have me so now nobody will, is that it, fella?”

  “Goddammit, Pru. I’m trying to help. You may hate me, but I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

  “Psh. You shouldn’t be able to live with yourself now.” Disgust dripped from her words. “Goodbye, Silas.”

  The dial tone blasted in his ear.

  ***

  This was not going according to plan. Eli would not be pleased.

  Jones watched as Pru disconnected the call with the jab of her thumb. She was a Normal, an innocent, and they didn’t hurt innocents. But his hands itched to wrap around her pretty throat for not following his instructions. “What was that?”

  She turned and smiled at him, a seductive twist of lips. His pulse jumped and he said a mental prayer against the surge of lust. Pru had always had that effect on him, tempting him with her luscious curves and sly, womanly wiles, pretending not to notice how hard she made him while he worked that crap job in the diner. If Eli didn’t demand celibacy from his operators and the bible didn’t warn against lust, he’d have turned her over the center island in the diner’s kitchen a long time ago and punished her for her Jezebel ways. The idea of it made his dick twitch
and he instantly felt soiled.

  “Jones, my darling.” She reached out to fix the collar of his turtleneck then patted his chest. “Thank you for giving me the goods on that fella. To think I would ever fall for a Mick.” With a wink, she strolled across the kitchen, hips twitching with each step.

  “You were supposed to lure him here,” Jones said and followed slowly, trying not to watch the sway of her hips. “I told you how dangerous he is. You have no idea—” He frowned as she dug through a drawer by the sink for a pack of matches and a half-empty carton of cigarettes. Since when had she started smoking? “Uh, Pru?”

  “Oh, I know, I know. I’m a sap. But he just had me all balled up, ya know?” She struck a match and lit the filter tip, waving it through the air negligently before taking a pull. She sighed. “Jeez, sorry. I’m beating my gums here.”

  “Uh…” Jones slid a step closer to her. “What are you doing?”

  She looked at him like he was an idiot. “I’m having a ciggy, what’s it look like?” She drew on the cigarette again and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Men.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Her gaze dropped to the kitchen floor and stayed there for a long moment. Then she smiled again, a nasty little smirk that gave him chills. “Oh, yes. Everything’s copasetic.” She waved her cigarette in a dismissive gesture. “Now level with me, Jonesy. You’re not one to take the icy mitt, huh?”

  “The—uh, what?”

  She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, moving toward him in slow, hip-swaying steps. “I mean, who is, right? Not me.”

  He staggered backward a step, but found the wall right behind him, blocking his path. “What are you talking about?”

  “Rejection,” she said, stressing the word with a little bounce. “She’s been rejecting you for a long time, hasn’t she? Never even noticed you behind the scenes, lusting after her. Years and years…”

  “W-who?”

  “But I’ve been watching you and I can see why. Honestly, you’re off your nuts. You bumped off that rube Kevin and then let the others take the fall.”

  She knew? Jones bumped the telephone, knocking the landline from the wall. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. His heart jackhammered against his ribs and sweat gathered along his spine. Something wasn’t right about this whole conversation.

  About her.

  The phone toned, demanding its cradle, jolting him out of the fear paralysis. Dang it, he was a Sierra Group operator, a warrior of God. He couldn’t let a little lady frighten him away from his mission. But what was he supposed to do with this new, not-so-improved Pru? He had to get a hold of Eli before he made any more moves. “Now, you know I would never do anything like that. I’m a good, Christian man.”

  “Oh yeah!” Sarcasm dripped from the words as she turned her back on him. “Not you, the quiet church-going cook.” She snorted. “Bushwa. You’re nothing but a two-timin’ killer.”

  “I am not a killer. I’m a soldier.” Even as he spoke, he edged for the door. If he kept her turned away and distracted, he’d have time to get to his car and cell phone. Hopefully, Eli wouldn’t say she had to die. Sometimes, in war, innocents were lost. It was the way of things and Jones accepted that, but she was so beautiful and it seemed a shame to send that beauty back to heaven already. His gaze dropped down her backside and his mouth went dry. She wasn’t wearing panties under those form-fitting jogging pants.

  “Come now,” she said, wiggling her bottom as if she knew he was looking. His dick tightened. She giggled. “You can’t lie to me. I told you, I’ve been watchin’ you—all of you—for a very long time. And, you know, I don’t like you.”

  Pressing her cigarette out on the countertop with one hand, she picked a heavy iron frying pan off the wall with her other. She turned it over, studying it, and shot him an assessing look. “Yes, this should do fine. That big head of yours needs to be flattened out.”

  Good Lord. People had whispered that she was crazy, unstable and prone to breakdowns, but he’d never have guessed she was this crazy. Something must have snapped inside her when she found out her lover was a liar and worse. “Okay, okay. You’re right. I punished Kevin for what he did to that girl, but—For God’s sake, put that down and let me explain—”

  “I’ve heard enough explanations, I think.” As she glided across the floor on soundless bare feet, her blue eyes flashed. “See, thing is, all you fellas are the same. You’re all liars and cheaters…and poor ole me, I’m left holding the bag-ski. I’m sick of it.”

  She rose up before him and her feet left the floor. An unnatural glow sparked behind her eyes. Hellfire.

  Holy Mary, she wasn’t a Normal.

  Jones choked on a scream, his breath condensing in the blast of cold air that rolled off her, icing everything in its wake. He fumbled for the gun stuffed in the waistband of his pants, but even as he pointed it at her heart, it flipped out of his hands, knocked away by an unseen blow. He scrambled after it, but Pru flicked a hand and it skittered away, just out of reach.

  Oh God. Was she a telekinetic?

  Time to get out. Jones darted toward the kitchen door and white-hot pain singed the nerves in his right shoulder, numbing his arm, dropping him to his knees. The heavy flying pan came down again between his shoulders and he toppled forward, his nose cracking against the pine floor. The world flared white. He scrambled to his hands and knees. If he could get to his feet, he’d have a chance to get away and call Eli and find out what he should do.

  Laughing, Pru tapped the pan against his rear hard enough that he went down again. He rolled over, panting, blood pouring into his mouth from his nose. “Please, please. Stop. I’m begging you. I don’t want to die.”

  “Oh, poor bunny doesn’t want to die. Guess what?” She straddled him, black hair tumbling in wild hanks over her face, her smile pure wickedness as she raised the pan. “Neither did I.”

  Jones heard a loud crunch, but felt no pain as the world around him went black except for a pair of dark blue eyes staring down.

  ***

  Lovie True watched the light go out in the cook’s eyes. One had to appreciate the irony of his death. Or in this case, the iron. She tossed the frying pan and it landed with a loud, rolling clang on the wood floor as she stood.

  You killed him! The voice screeched inside her mind. She grimaced, touching her temple. Not something she had counted on, this dueling of consciousness. It took more energy than she’d realized to keep her vessel’s voice quiet and still. Pru’s heartbreak had helped the process, but now the woman had returned with a screaming vengeance.

  “Aw, for crying out loud. Don’t be such a killjoy.” She nudged Jones’s twitching leg with the tip of her toe and noticed the dog cowering in the corner of the room. It alternated between a growl and whimper as it watched her.

  Bending, she held out a hand. “Come here, dog.”

  It inched forward, ears pressed to its head, but stopped just short of her and showed its teeth. She hauled back a foot, kicked it in the side, and felt Pru wince.

  Stop it!

  Such an odd sensation, this mix of Pru’s pain and her own pleasure. Not altogether bad. She kicked the dog again. It let out a yelp, scampering away on big, clumsy paws. Stupid animal had been the bane of her ethereal exist for the past several months, always barking and growling at her. About time it got what was coming to it.

  Dammit, let me go, you nasty bitch!

  She laughed as fists pounded on her conscience, begging to regain control over this lovely body. “Psh, go chase yourself, Prudence. I’m not done yet. I have a date.”

  No! Pru struggled harder, and pain shot through Lovie’s head. She squeezed her eyes shut and squelched the struggles with an act of will, but Pru’s voice continued to shout. Leave him alone! Leave him alone! Leave him alone!

  Headlights flashed through the dining room and Pru went silent. Lovie grinned, enjoying the sense of heartbreak and dread mixing with her own delight. A car door slammed shut.

 
; “Uh-oh, we’d better go change, Prudence. Silas is home.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Alex tried the lighthouse’s landline, but again got an angry busy signal. His hand tightened around the cell phone as he guided his rental up the bumpy driveway. The beacon flashed over the lawn, piercing the first fingers of fog that clawed inland from the ocean. Alex killed the engine. No movement inside, but Pru’s Jeep sat in the drive along with another car he didn’t recognize.

  The quiet rap of a knuckle on his window made him jump. A figure peeled away from the shadows of the night to stand beside the door.

  “Holy shit, Nick.” Telling his pounding heart to calm the fuck down, he levered himself out of the driver’s seat. “You gotta stop sneaking up on me like that, buddy. I thought you were off researching ghosts or some shit.”

  “I was.” He slid a glance toward the silent house. “But I knew you’d come back and you can’t go in there tonight.”

  “Why not?” Alex looked at the unrecognized car. “Who’s she with?” Silence. “Goddammit, answer me. Who is in there with her?”

  “A man went in a while ago. I don’t know who or why.” But his voice insinuated a shitload of images Alex didn’t want in his mind. Another man’s hands on Pru, mouth on her skin, body filling her.

  Jealous anger spilled through him, so hot it burned. He drew a breath to squelch it. “No.” He wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t for his own sanity. “She’s not like that. C’mon, Nick, you know she’s not like that. I gotta talk to her. I fucked up but—”

  Nick caught his arm. “Trust me, you can’t go in there.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  Nick slapped an eight-by-ten photo into his palm. “It’s the anniversary.”

  “What?” Alex turned the photo over and blinked at the man in old-fashioned military dress staring up with intense, dark eyes and a half-smile.

  His eyes. His smile. A man with his face.

  The spit dried in his mouth. “Who is—”

  Silas.