The Lost (Sin Hunters)

by Piñeiro, Caridad

  “Mr. Bruno, are you okay?” a security guard asked as he came running up to them, the radio in his hand squawking with chatter.

  The guard reached for the young man—Mr. Bruno, Bobbie assumed—but he waved him off and gingerly came to his feet.

  “I’m okay,” he said, and whirled to face her, concern etched on his features.

  When he took note of the way she was cradling her left arm, he said, “Damn it, you’re hurt.”

  Before she could respond, he touched her, barely grazing her arm with the tips of his fingers, lightly brushing the scarred skin that hid muscle and bone ruined by the shrapnel that had torn into her after the explosion.

  An intense tingle danced along the path of his fingers, and for a moment, she thought she detected a glimmer of deep blue light where his skin touched hers. As she had before, she experienced the pull of power and a connection stronger than any she had felt before. Beneath his fingers, her skin was growing warmer, and a prickly sensation spread upward, growing more potent.

  Her heart raced as the heat multiplied quickly throughout her body. Between her legs desire rose heavy and unbidden. As her gaze met his, the darkening of those changeling emerald eyes suggested he was experiencing the passion also.

  She jerked away, unnerved by the sensations buffeting her body, afraid of the inexplicable attraction arising between them, and yet still embarrassed that he had noticed her weakness and touched her injuries. Judging from his clothing and looks, he was a man used to perfection and the finer things in life. Even before her wounds, he would likely have never given her a first glance, much less a second. They were from two different worlds that just skirted each other, interacting only when the one needed their lawns mowed or some cleaning done.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, the stinging sensation from his touch still alive on her, almost akin to pins and needles. The tingle and heat continued up her arm and she rubbed at it, wishing it would go away, along with the intense throb of want that had blossomed with his touch.

  He tracked her movements and seemed almost taken aback by his earlier actions. Self-consciously, he also rubbed his hands together as if regretting that he had touched her. Bending, he picked up her cane and handed it to her, apparently in lieu of a more traditional handshake as he said, “Adam Bruno. And you’re…”

  “Roberta Carrera.” She accepted the cane from his hand and leaned on it heavily. As the unwanted desire fled her body, a dull, painful pressure developed at the small of her back along with a slight pull threading along her midsection. Assisting him in her debilitated condition had taken its toll.

  “Carrera?” Adam murmured, wondering if there was some connection to an intern he had recently hired, but before he could ask, he heard a concerned, “Excuse me,” from the group of people gathered beside them.

  Looking at the crowd, he noticed Tony Carrera battling his way through the pack to stand beside the woman. There was no denying the resemblance. There was also no denying that like his sister, Tony possessed an aura of power, but it was barely visible. Just a slight glow of a faded denim blue, which Adam might not have even noticed under normal circumstances.

  But he couldn’t fail to detect it now as he considered them. Brother and sister were of a like height and athletically built, although Roberta was an inch or so shorter than Tony’s six feet. They had similar faces, with creamy olive skin and brown hair. Roberta’s hair was lighter, though, almost caramel-colored, and tumbled down to her shoulders in thick waves.

  On Tony the features and coloring were handsome, while on Roberta…

  Superb, he thought, and once again had to fight back the intense need that had arisen from the simple stroke of his fingers across her skin. But when he refocused his attention on her face, he detected the pain in her eyes and the tense furrow at the bridge of her nose.

  “Bobbie, are you okay?” Tony asked, and laid a hand on his sister’s arm.

  Bobbie, he thought, thinking that it suited her. There was something too schoolmarmish about Roberta; Bobbie inspired visions of a reckless tomboy, but one who could also dress up like a lady. He’d seen that wild side today as she had charged to his aid, courageous and impulsive.

  When Bobbie finally answered her brother, her voice was tight. “I need to get home.”

  Feeling guilty that she had been hurt because of him and wanting to further explore the unusual connection between them, Adam motioned to his building. “If you need medical care—”

  “I’m fine,” she said from behind gritted teeth, and took an unsteady step toward the older-model Chevrolet beside which she had been standing when he had first noticed her.

  Tony glanced at him uneasily, a combination of concern and condemnation in his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Adam was the boss, and in the corporate world Tony could ill afford to upset him, but Adam didn’t run his ship like that.

  “Please let me know how she is.” Adam handed Tony a business card with his personal contact information. With a curt nod, Tony chased after his sister, and as he caught up to her, he solicitously placed his arm around her waist, offering her additional support.

  “Mr. Bruno. Is there anything I can do?” the guard beside him asked as the group that had congregated around them started to disperse now that the action was over.

  “Please get me the security tapes of the parking lot area for the last hour,” he replied and stalked back toward the SolTerra office building. As he did so, he whipped out his phone and texted a message to the engineers he had been supposed to meet to discuss a new hybrid battery technology. He had been excited about their work and possibly acquiring the knowhow, but would have to postpone their meeting until another day. Given what had just happened, the novel process now seemed almost inconsequential.

  He needed to find out more about the men who had tried to grab him and why they possessed powers so similar to his. An electric touch and something he hadn’t even known he possessed—the ability to race through several feet in just milliseconds. He didn’t know how he had done it, but he had, almost as if his body had moved at the speed of light, or just transported, like in an old episode of Star Trek.

  He needed to explore that ability in greater depth, but just as important, he needed to get to know Bobbie Carrera and understand what kind of woman would rush to his help. What kind of woman carried such an unusual aura, and how could a simple touch rouse such emotions in him?

  Want for sure, but also completeness. The nagging unrest he had been experiencing earlier and he had ascribed to an age-related countdown had stopped ticking in that moment when skin had met skin and desire had arisen. With her gone, the emptiness was back, but not for long, Adam thought.

  He intended to find out every little thing he could about the intriguing Bobbie Carrera.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Somehow Bobbie made it to Tony’s car.

  The weird pins and needles were still stinging all along her left arm along with a bit of lingering heat and some discomfort in her abdomen. The worst of the hurt was at the small of her back. The dull pressure there had blossomed into a knot of pain so powerful, tears stung at her eyes.

  With just a quick glance as he helped her into the passenger seat, Tony knew better than to ask how she was. He knew she hated being sick and weak. That she hated relying on others, because she wasn’t used to needing help. Bobbie had always been the one who took care of others, not the other way around.

  As Tony pulled out of the parking spot and drove away, the car rolled up and over a speed bump. The jerky motion sent even greater waves of agony through Bobbie, dragging a long, low moan from her.

  “Bobbie? What can I do?” Tony finally asked, shooting a nervous side glance her way.

  Tears running down her face, Bobbie could manage only a short request before curling up into a tight ball.

  “Just take me home, please.”

  She gathered what strength was left in her and focused, staving off the pain as best as she could, chastising he
rself for ignoring common sense to assist some stranger who hadn’t really needed her help anyway.

  Not really a stranger, but Tony’s boss, Adam Bruno, she thought, liking the sound of his name in her head, and remembering the color of his eyes—an emerald green that seemed alive with the nature around him.

  Another bounce of the car across a pothole made her grit her teeth in agony and earned a contrite apology from Tony.

  “S’okay, Tony. Not your fault,” she said, and willed herself to focus on something other than the pain. Adam’s face came to mind again and she used him as her focal point, recalling the feel of his touch, light as a breeze against her skin before the contact had become charged with heat and desire. Even now the recollection of that want caused her to dampen and twist with need.

  “Tell me about your boss,” she asked.

  “Seriously? You’re thinking about my boss?” Tony questioned, obviously incredulous.

  “I’m not dead… yet,” she teased, trying to not only lighten her brother’s concerns, but keep herself distracted.

  “He’s rich. Millionaire kind of rich.”

  “Damn. I knew there was something awful about him,” she kidded, dragging a chuckle from Tony.

  The throbbing at the small of her back had receded just a bit, and she slowly straightened in the passenger seat. Beside her, Tony turned his head to check a blind spot before shifting into the left lane and said, “He’s not your type, Bobbie.”

  The car’s engine purred softly with the acceleration as Tony switched lanes.

  “Sounds sweet,” she said, aware of how much time and effort her brothers had put into restoring the classic muscle car.

  “See, that just proves my point. Mr. Bruno’s first car was probably a limo and he would never call a ride sweet.”

  Bobbie chuckled, although that simple action produced fresh shards of pain along the left side of her back. She bit back a groan and then asked, “Is he a geek?”

  “Totally,” Tony replied, with a laugh and a quick glance in her direction.

  “So are you, bro, and you’re not so bad,” Bobbie retorted, but Tony didn’t answer as he carefully turned down the street for her condo. He parked the car, exited the Camaro, and hurried around the front bumper to help her out of the seat. Each movement brought renewed pain in her back, but luckily the strange tingling sensation in her left hand and arm had abated, as had the equally troubling throb between her legs.

  If anything, her hand and arm were feeling better. Maybe even stronger than they had that morning, if that was possible. Which it wasn’t, she told herself. It was only the adrenaline racing through her body that was creating such unusual sensations.

  “Thanks for the ride home,” she said, and gave her brother an awkward one-armed hug.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, concern evident on his face.

  “A long soak and I’ll be fine,” she reassured, although she was feeling anything but fine at that moment.

  Knowing better than to push, her brother offered up a weak smile and left as Bobbie slowly made her way inside, her gait like that of an arthritic ninety-year-old. She would normally have pushed herself to make the climb to the third story, but the ache in her back was too intense, so she opted for the elevator instead.

  Once inside her condo, she walked toward the breakfast bar, where an assortment of pain meds sat on the counter. She bypassed the various prescription medications and instead grabbed the Aleve bottle with her free left hand.

  A left hand that was now surprisingly stronger. She tightened her hand on the plastic bottle, and her grip didn’t falter. She squeezed harder and harder until the knuckles on her hand were white with pressure and still her grip didn’t waver. The muscles remained fluid as she rotated her arm left and right. She lifted it higher, reaching for the sky and experiencing none of the weakness or restriction in movement that had been there before Adam had touched her.

  Lowering her arm, she popped the lid on the bottle, spilled out two capsules, and swallowed them dry. Between the pain reliever and the soak she had mentioned, she hoped she would be well enough to join her family later for dinner. Despite all the bad things that had happened in the last few months, being around her family always made her feel better. In large part it had been their support that had pulled her back into this world after the explosion. They had kept her sane when fear, pain, and guilt might have driven her over the edge.

  As she glanced around her apartment and caught a fleeting glimpse of the photos of her family on a nearby wall unit, a sense of balance permeated her.

  She was almost whole, she acknowledged. She hadn’t expected to feel like that for a long time, all things considered. But there were still pieces missing in her life despite all the progress she had made.

  As she recalled Adam and the way he had made her feel with a simple caress, she wondered if it wasn’t time to risk a relationship with a man. Although she wasn’t sure Adam would be a good candidate for that foray back into the dating life. Even without knowing very much about him, she knew they came from vastly different worlds, maybe too far apart for them to have anything in common.

  Despite that, she itched to explore her attraction to him, but first she needed that soak. And if during that bath she also daydreamed a bit about the interesting Adam Bruno…

  The tension in the room was palpable as the two men stood before him, militarily rigid, hands clasped before them, heads dipped in either deference or shame.

  “You say there was another Hunter there? Possibly a Shadow Hunter?” Kellen Chakotay asked as he surged out of his chair, planted his fists on his desk, and leaned toward the two men in his cadre. His captain—Andres Rayu—sported a swollen nose and duo of black eyes while his second in command, Eduardo Rios, occasionally reached up to rub at a purpling mark across his throat.

  “We think so.” Andres paused and shot an apprehensive look at his partner. “We couldn’t be sure. She—”

  “A female Shadow?” Kellen said, and from the corner of his eye examined his wife. She wrung her hands with worry and he understood why. The female Shadow Hunters were known to be particularly lethal, showing no mercy in who they killed in order to replenish their life forces.

  Eduardo, who had been unusually silent and distant during the initial report, finally spoke up, but when he did, his voice was sandpaper raspy. It was clear it was costing him great effort to speak. “Could be. She wasn’t whole.”

  “Not whole? Did her body bear signs of the smallpox?” Kellen asked, and walked around to where his man stood. Raising his hands, he brought one to rest along Eduardo’s throat injury and chastised, “Why have you not sought help?”

  “Ashamed, Quinchu,” Eduardo replied, referring to Kellen by the title the Light Hunters used for their priests and priestesses. Only the Quinchu retained the abilities to gather energy that all the Hunters had possessed at one time.

  The Quinchus and the murderous Shadows.

  Tight-lipped, Kellen reminded, “We are not like the dark ones. We honor all life and relieve suffering.”

  With that Kellen closed his eyes and tapped the well of stored power within himself, summoning the energies he had collected during the course of the day. Deep in his core, the forces coalesced, the weight of them dragging at his center. With control honed by decades of practice and millennia of tradition, Kellen sent his healing powers into the man with a gentle push. Beneath his palm an orange-red glow shimmered, and Eduardo’s body jumped with the discharge. Warmth erupted and then receded as he withdrew the healing energy, but in mere seconds Eduardo released a grateful sigh.

  “Thank you, Quinchu,” Eduardo said, his voice restored.

  Kellen turned to Andres, intending to deal with his injuries, but the captain of his cadre waved him off. “We must deal with the woman first, Quinchu.”

  “The one you thought might be a Shadow Hunter. Did you see the pox on her?” he asked and walked over to where his wife waited on the couch, sat beside her, a
nd laid a calming hand over her nervous ones.

  “It was impossible to tell. It all happened so fast,” Eduardo advised.

  “But she had an aura. A powerful one,” Andres supplied, but was quick to add, “We will not fail again, Quinchu.”

  Kellen nodded and rubbed his forefinger across his lips as he considered what the men had reported. If a Shadow Hunter was nearby, searching as they were, it could confirm that Adam Bruno was who they thought. But based on their earlier report, his men seemed uncertain about the strength of the power the young CEO possessed.

  “The man you tracked down—Adam Bruno—did he have the gift?” It would be impossible for Bruno not to be blessed if he was their son Kikin.

  Once again his men hesitated, looking back and forth between each other before Andres noted, “He had some power, but it seemed weak. Not like the force you would expect in a man descended from two such powerful Quinchus as yourselves.”

  Beside him, Eduardo was nodding, in obvious agreement with his captain’s assessment.

  A deep, tortured sigh escaped his wife. Kellen understood. The report disappointed him, too. If Bruno’s gift was weak, it might mean that he was a hybrid—half-human, half-Hunter. Such half-breeds often had abilities far beyond those of their fellow humans, but the hunting gift was not strong enough to be of much use.

  And if Bruno was a hybrid, he was not their son.

  With each year that passed and each failure to locate Kikin, who was supposed to be their future Quinchu, the hopes of his Light Hunter clan dimmed. Soon their future might be extinguished like the flame on a candle.

  “Quinchu,” Andres said, sensing Kellen’s distress and pulling his attention back to the rest of the cadre, who stood silently by the door. “What do you wish for us to do now?”