“There’s the difference between me and you. I don’t consider humans to be animals.”
Reaching one-handed for her weapon, the woman stumbled again and the blade skidded under the banquette seat.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it? You know, I’ve experienced acute silver poisoning before myself.” When she’d been a Guardian in training many years ago, it was a requirement for all rookies. “First there’s intense pain that radiates outward from the injury. Then it’s followed by severe muscle weakness and lethargy. Am I right?”
“Fuck you.”
“Then confusion sets in, and paranoia. You don’t know what’s real and what’s fake. Sometimes there are hallucinations. Soon, you’re not going to be able to walk, or maybe you’re past that stage now.”
Roxy’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Jackson? She started to reach for it but winced.
The woman froze, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.
“Yeah, you guessed it. My backup has arrived.” Roxy had no idea if this were true or not. For all she knew it could be Jackson texting to tell her they were still having problems getting across the ravine.
With a defeated hunch to her shoulders, the woman stumbled to the open door, blood soaking her sleeve and dripping on the vinyl floor.
She paused, looking out beyond the dim light from the trailer. “This isn’t over,” she said without turning around. “I didn’t get…where I’m at…without knowing when to retreat.” Then she disappeared into the night.
If only Roxy had the strength to go after her, but at least she knew the woman probably wouldn’t get far. When the Guardians did arrive, she’d be easy to track with all that blood.
The air inside the tiny trailer was cold. Almost dead. Her head throbbed as she tried to walk.
Santiago? Where are you? How had he moved Grim to her hand like that?
Maybe her blood had given him heightened abilities, as well.
But she heard nothing from him.
“Santiago?” she called aloud this time.
Still nothing.
Oh, God, was he gone? She reached inside herself but no longer felt his energy stirring in her veins. Tears poured down her cheeks as she hobbled through the tiny kitchen, following his scent. He must have used the last of his strength to help her.
An acrid smell filled the air and an orange light glowed outside the grimy window. In what was undoubtedly her own brand of justice, the woman had set the place on fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SANTIAGO PULLED AT his restraints, but they didn’t give. He tried to summon the last of his energy to direct Roxy to him, but there was nothing left to draw from.
He wanted to find her, throw his body over hers and protect her, but he couldn’t move. Never had he felt so helpless. It was one thing when it was just your own life at stake. You could fuck up all you want. But it was a completely different scenario when it involved the life of the woman you loved.
Another crash sounded, but this time the whole trailer shook. Ventra had set charges all around the place. He’d tried to warn Roxy, but either she hadn’t listened to him or didn’t hear. He didn’t feel the heat yet, but then maybe it was because he was so numb that he couldn’t feel anything anymore.
“Jesus H, Santiago.”
Jackson? Either that or the gates to hell were staffed by someone who could be his twin.
“I’m here, buddy. Let’s get these things off you and get you out of this place.”
Something touched his arms, then the chains binding his wrists and ankles clanked to the ground.
“Roxy.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Is she…?”
“Don’t worry,” Jackson said. “We have her.”
As strong arms hoisted Santiago up off the hard floor, a million mallets pounded inside his skull. The silver spikes Ventra had painstakingly embedded into his skin dug in anew as Jackson carried him out of the trailer, every footstep jostling a fresh round of agony. It was his last sensation before everything went black.
* * *
“IS HE GOING TO BE OKAY?”
Soft lips touched his forehead and he smelled eucalyptus oil. Roxy either had it on her skin or she’d burned a candle. The rhythmic sound of a monitor beeped to his left, while her relaxation music played somewhere near his right. He inhaled deeply and the knots in his muscles loosened.
“Yes, he’s going to be fine.” He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that was Dr. DeGraff. He must be up at the region medical center. “He’s lost a lot of blood and energy and we removed dozens of silver spikes, but he’ll be back to his old self in no time.”
Roxy’s warm breath flitted across his cheek. She was close. He turned his head slightly toward her and instantly felt her lips against his.
“See?” Dr. DeGraff said. “He’s doing better already.”
“Is there anything I can do to help him? Ease some of the pain?”
“It’s clear that you have a calming effect on him and I’d imagine your blood would as well, but I know you’ve given him a lot already.”
She had? He licked his parched lips and tasted the familiar tang.
“Do you think it will be okay to give him more, considering—”
How much had he taken? She’d been injured as well and he didn’t want to jeopardize her own recovery.
“Just limit him to a few sips and you should be fine. Are you eating well and getting plenty of rest? I don’t want you to overdo things.”
“I’m feeling much better, but I can’t believe how famished I’ve been.”
Thank God, he thought. If being hungry was the extent of her problems, then she must be fine.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” The doctor gently patted his foot. “Thanks for literally going out on a wire to save him. Despite his tirades and hotheadedness, we love him around here. He’s the glue that holds this place together. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
After Dr. DeGraff said goodbye and left, he could’ve sworn Roxy exhaled and said, “Me, too.”
His eyelids and hands were leaden. Although he desperately wanted to see her, hold her, his muscles wouldn’t listen to his brain, but he must’ve made a noise.
“Shh. I’m here, Santiago,” Roxy’s voice purred in his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Lips brushed his forehead again and then her wrist was at his mouth. He didn’t make a conscious effort to feed from her, but instinct took over, knowing his body needed this. His fangs elongated, and when they sank into her fragrant skin, she let out a little breath that fluttered across his face. In one heartbeat, her blood was filling his mouth.
“That’s it. There you go,” she said soothingly, running her fingertips along his scalp as he swallowed.
For the briefest moment, the thought occurred to him that her blood tasted slightly different than it had before, but he promptly forgot as he swallowed again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SANTIAGO STOOD AT the window of region headquarters, staring at the dark wilds of British Columbia spread out below him. Tiny beacons of light winking in the darkness drew his attention away from the turmoil in his gut. A marine vessel moved steadily across the inky black of Horseshoe Bay. Everything looked so quiet and peaceful from up here, as if its purpose lay in its very existence at this precise moment in time. Not yesterday, not tomorrow, but right now. Even the flashing lights of a fire truck heading into town on the far side of the bay seemed orderly, defined and grounded in the present. All that serenity stood in stark contrast to the dilemma raging inside him.
“You’ve got to tell her,” Dom said from the couch behind him.
In the window’s reflection, he saw Dom rub his shoulder and wince. The regeneration process could be long and painful, especially when it involved joints or whole limbs. Dom was lucky in that he didn’t lose the arm in the explosion, but his shoulder and elbow had been shattered.
“If you respect her.” Alfonso was rubbing some sort of furniture oi
l on the bookshelf, trying to repair the damage from Santiago’s last tirade, which seemed like eons ago now. Even though he and Lily had just returned from their trip, Alfonso never hesitated to fix or adjust something, no matter how menial, when he saw that it needed to be done.
Jackson propped his boots on the coffee table, grabbed a sandwich from his pocket, and took a bite. Good to know the guy was making himself at home. “Yeah, it’s only fair.”
Santiago spun around to face his three closest friends. Why didn’t they understand his position? Did they not know what he was going through? “Fair. What is fair? Telling someone that the love of her life was a loser and an addict? Why should I do that? It will only tarnish her memory of him. What good does that do?”
“She deserves to know the truth,” Jackson said, chewing.
“How she processes the information should be her decision, not yours.” Dom took a swig from his beer, a direct violation of Dr. DeGraff’s no alcohol orders during his recovery process.
The old familiar rush of anger filled him from top to bottom. At first, he wanted to punch something, hear something break.
But then he took a deep calming breath and recalled the soothing, almost hypnotic sound of Roxy’s voice, the feel of her fingers as she massaged him.
Imagine you’re on a beach, your toes in the sand. The water comes in, laps at your feet, then goes back out again. Millions of little air bubbles fizzle and pop on the sand around you. A tiny crab scurries for shelter under a smooth stone. The next wave barely reaches your toes. And the next one doesn’t even touch you. Gradually, slowly, just like the tide, these knots of tension, frustration and anger loosen inside you. Release them into the water to be taken out to sea. And as the tide goes out, all that’s left on the beach is a calm, relaxed you.
Only then did he realize how much he had changed. Even though many things still pissed him off, he seemed better able to handle his reaction. Roxy’s methods had been working. He’d even been listening to that music of hers while in his office and he kept a scented candle on his desk.
Santiago drained his glass in one swallow, the scotch giving him a nice burn all the way down. “You didn’t see her or Mrs. O’Grady at the awards ceremony, Alfonso. They were so proud of Ian and his accomplishments. His mother is going to put Ian’s Guardian blade in a place of honor at her house. She’ll call her friends. Have a private get-together where she brags about his accomplishments all those years ago. They’ll drink tea, wine, talk about the good old days. Time has softened the pain of losing her son so now all she has are her memories. It would devastate both of them to know that Ian was a Sweet addict who sold his sword to a Darkblood for a hit.”
“They should still be proud of him,” Alfonso said. “As a Guardian, I’m sure he had many accomplishments.”
Santiago couldn’t expect Alfonso to understand. He’d once been addicted to Sweet himself.
“Well, you do what you have to do.” Jackson licked the remnants of his peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich from his fingers. “But I think you should be honest with her. She’s a big girl. Wouldn’t you want to know if the tables were turned?”
If the situation were reversed, it wouldn’t matter what he’d want. He was trying his damnedest to put himself in her shoes, and this news would devastate her. “Consider this. Don’t you think a tiny part of her would always wonder if I made it up to get her to stop loving him?”
So that she’d love me instead.
Dom set down his beer bottle with a clunk and eased back on the couch. “So you love her then.”
“Yes. No.” Santiago grabbed for the bottle of scotch but it was empty. Shit.
“What are you really afraid of?” Alfonso didn’t look up. Instead, he continued rubbing a cloth over the wood as if he could wipe away all of Santiago’s wrongs with a little elbow grease.
“I’m not afraid of anything.” Santiago slammed the glass down, splashing what was left of its contents on the table. “It’s an age-old strategy. Disparage your opponent in order to make yourself look better. Well, I’m not doing it. I don’t know how or why he got addicted. All it takes is one taste and suddenly that’s all you can think about. You give up everything you once held dear just for another hit and that’s what happened to him. It isn’t pretty. You, of all people, should know that, Alfonso.”
Alfonso turned to face him, his expression flat, his eyes dark. “Don’t make this about me, my friend. You’re dancing around the issue and you know it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your opponent?” Alfonso asked. “That’s an interesting way to describe Ian. What are you competing with him for? Some kind of posthumous prize?”
“The dude is dead,” Jackson said.
“Exactly.” Santiago strode back to the window and watched another boat cross the bay. “A relationship between Roxy and me will never work in the long run. We’re like oil and water. She and I are completely different.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jackson scratched his belly.
“If I didn’t know better,” Alfonso said quietly, “I’d say you’re in love with a woman for the first time in your life, and that scares the hell out of you.”
“Let me tell you,” Dom said. “Love can be scary, but so. Damn. Worth it.”
“I’m…I’m…”
He pressed his forehead against the cool windowpane and closed his eyes. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. The truth was he did love her. More than he ever thought possible. His heart ached when she wasn’t near him. He was a better man because of her and he wasn’t sure how he’d manage without her.
“Tell her,” Alfonso said gently. “She needs to know how you feel about her.”
After the men left, Santiago got drunk as he watched boat after boat cross the bay.
* * *
MITCH THREW THE last of his things into a duffel and walked down the halls of the Seattle field office for the final time. God, he hoped he didn’t run into anyone because he hated goodbyes. He didn’t want to explain himself. He’d been doing that a lot lately and didn’t have the stomach for it any longer. Everyone meant well, or at least most of them did.
“It wasn’t your fault, Mitchie.”
Then whose fault was it that one of the best field team leaders was almost killed?
“It could’ve happened to any of us.”
But it didn’t.
“Cordell found the app on a few other phones. It wasn’t just you.”
Yeah, but I’m the only Guardian. I should’ve known better. I’m trained to notice when something’s not right. They’re not.
For the billionth time he replayed the scenario in his head. The bar. The waitress. Her seduction. That shitty motel room.
He should’ve known something was wrong. What the hell happened to his instincts? His good sense? Looking back, he could see now how nervous the young woman—Cosette—had been. She’d been awkward and shy in the tub as if it were a new experience for her. She hadn’t been a virgin, but it was clear she wasn’t well versed either. Her lack of confidence should’ve been a red flag. He should’ve seen it as an act, that it wasn’t natural for her to come on to a perfect stranger like she had. But no, all he’d cared about was that she was hot and she wanted to have sex with him. He’d been blind to all the rest.
To think that Darkbloods—correction, Ventra—were in the next room, screwing with his phone the whole time practically made him sick. It still did.
Jesus! How could he have missed that?
A better man, a better Guardian would’ve noticed.
Well, no more.
His footsteps echoed in the passageway, solemnly marking his departure. Things had been pretty dead around here lately and that suited him just fine. He’d just as soon not run into anyone right now. Chances were, no one would even notice he was gone anyway.
Santiago had needed medical treatment after they rescued him from the trailer, so Jackson and Roxy had taken him up to region he
adquarters. Dom was still recovering but should be back to the field office soon. That is, if there was a field office after this. He’d heard rumors that given this latest breach in security, the Council was considering shutting the office down completely.
His part in that potential outcome had been the last straw. There was no place for him at the field office any longer. Or as a Guardian, for that matter. He’d proved himself to be incompetent and ineffective and it was time to move on. To where, though, he had no idea. It wasn’t as if he could go home.
Stepping into the elevator, he pushed Lobby and leaned against the back wall, grateful that he hadn’t run into anyone. He didn’t want to hear someone’s opinion why he wasn’t a loser and how he shouldn’t be leaving. That he was indeed a valuable member of the team and very talented. Bullshit. He knew the truth.
A clean break without any drama was what he needed. He’d find his own place in the world.
But just as the elevator doors started to close, a hand shot out and they opened again.
Wearing black cargo pants, boots and some sort of bizarre harness over an Army Ranger sweatshirt, Sadie walked in.
He groaned internally.
“There you are,” she said. “Cordell’s been looking for you.”
“Why?”
“He’s replacing all of our cell phones with new ones. Installed another layer of security or something to prevent what happened to you from happening again.”
“Good.”
She tucked her short hair behind an ear. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“Then what’s that?” She indicated his duffel.
“Some of my stuff.”
Folding her arms over her chest, she stared at him. He averted his gaze and watched the elevator panel instead.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
She hesitated a moment as if she were trying to figure out what else to say. “Listen, you’re not still pissed off that Ventra got away from us, are you?”
He huffed out a breath but didn’t reply. While the others were helping with Santiago and Roxy, he and Sadie had tracked Ventra to the highway. She was bleeding a lot, but it evidently hadn’t slowed her down enough and she’d escaped anyway.
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