Dark Warrior Unbroken

by Alexis Morgan

  Definitely time to take a break. He stopped to consider the restaurants he’d passed, and the slight breeze carried the scent of tomato and basil. Italian—just the ticket. He turned back, following his nose to one of his favorite restaurants.

  When there was a break in the traffic, he cut across the street midblock, to keep his behavior unpredictable. As he reached the opposite curb, the sound of screeching tires and running foot steps made him spin around, but the cars were already starting to move again. If someone had bolted out into traffic to follow him, he’d already blended back into the crowd.

  That, or else Sandor had gone completely paranoid for no good reason. Rather than continue to play tag with a nonexistent pursuer, he was going to kick back and enjoy a hearty meal, and a glass of good wine.

  Inside the restaurant, the waiter ushered him to a small booth in the back. Sandor slid in, facing the door so he could people-watch while he waited for his dinner.

  He wished there was a simple way to draw the renegade Kyth out of hiding, but it was unlikely that they’d choose him as a victim. He could only hope to catch one of them in the act and follow the renegade back to the rest. If Sandor tried taking them out one at a time, he’d only drive the rest of the gang into running. Once he had them penned in, he’d enlist Ranulf’s help in taking them all out at once.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to think about something happier before he ruined his meal. Strangely, the only image that came to mind was Lena Wilson. She was another problem he might have to deal with at some point, but right now he was more interested in recalling the exact color of her too-serious eyes. Gray, maybe? No, more of a deep smoky blue, the perfect shade to go with her honey gold hair.

  He admired her determination to seek justice for her friend, even if that meant trouble for him. Maybe if he got to know her better, he could find a way to share the truth about Coop’s killer without betraying his people.

  Sure, that was real likely. He could imagine her hanging on to every word as he explained that neither he nor Coop’s killer was really human, and both had powers straight out of a graphic novel or superhero comic book. He could prove his claim by shooting off a few energy bolts and making his eyes glow. Once that totally freaked her out, he could explain it was his sworn duty as a Talion to execute bad guys instead of letting the civil authorities do their job.

  Then, as a member of the law enforcement community, she’d instantly be on the phone for reinforcements to haul his ass into jail to stand trial for murder. No matter that it would’ve been a total disaster if the police had found Bradan before he and Ranulf had. Countless more innocent people would have died—but he couldn’t tell Lena that. He owed his allegiance to his Dame and his people, and he wouldn’t—couldn’t—betray them.

  The waiter appeared with his dinner and refilled his wineglass. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  “No, thank you.” Sandor sipped the wine, savoring the woodsy flavor. “On second thought, leave the bottle.”

  “But it’s my turn to go out hunting.” Kenny shifted on the far end of the couch with his feet up on the crate that served as a coffee table. “You promised I could.”

  “I know, but I changed my mind.” Sean looked up from counting the money from last night’s haul. “We’ve got enough cash to last us for a few days. The police are going to get suspicious if we keep working the same area too often.”

  “But you promised!”

  Sean gritted his teeth. Kenny had an amazing talent for getting on his nerves. At thirteen, he probably couldn’t help it, with his teenage hormones kicking in and bringing on the need to rebel against someone. But why did it have to be Sean, who was barely five years older than Kenny?

  “Yes, I know I promised, and I will allow you to go out on your own. Just not tonight. I’ll let you know when it’s safe. Until then, you’ll just have to sit tight.” He knew he’d made a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. Kenny had serious issues with authority of any sort.

  Crossing the room, Sean plopped down on the opposite end of the couch, not wanting to crowd him. “Look, kid, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded—but we all agreed to work together on this. We’ve made hits three nights in a row, and so far the police haven’t paid much attention. We need to keep it that way.”

  Kenny clearly wasn’t buying it. “Fine, but I won’t stay here. I’m going out.”

  He was up and heading for the door before Sean could stop him. Maybe it was better to let him go blow off some steam, but he hoped the kid took him seriously about laying low.

  Sean leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, exhausted. He hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep since they’d taken Kenny in. It had been just him and Tara before, and they’d managed to keep their bellies full. Then he’d found Kenny hiding near the trash cans behind a couple of restaurants, and he’d coaxed him out. It took more effort to find enough for three, but they managed—most of the time. Tara was a genius at stretching their meager funds.

  Sean’s mind drifted back to better days, when he’d been young enough to think the world was a kinder, warmer place. The distant memory of his parents always soothed him as he slid into dreams. But before he could fall asleep, the sound of the door opening jarred him awake. Tara was back.

  “How did the shopping go?” he asked.

  Tara looked up from stashing the milk in the fridge, and frowned with concern as she came toward him. When her hands settled on each side of his face, familiar, sweet warmth poured through him. Sean allowed himself a few seconds, because he needed her touch so badly. Besides, if he didn’t accept her gift, she’d just wait until he was asleep and force it on him. She was sneaky like that.

  “Feeling better?”

  He wanted to lie, but she’d see right through it. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Don’t wait so long next time. It only gets worse when you ignore it.”

  Neither of them understood this strange compulsion to touch other people, but they’d learned the hard way that they needed the special buzz they got from it, the way others out on the streets needed drugs. Tara was better at sharing her energy with others, especially him. Kenny was a different matter—one more reason Sean worried about him. Although the boy would accept the occasional hug from Tara, he refused to let Sean get close enough to help him.

  As if picking up on his dark thoughts, Tara looked around. “What happened this time?”

  “Kenny didn’t like it when I told him that we couldn’t go hunting again so soon. He said he had to get out for a while anyway.”

  “Think he’ll be okay? It’s getting dark out.”

  “If he’s not back soon, I’ll go looking for him. I’m afraid if we crowd him too much, he’ll leave for good. Think how long it took to convince him to trust us this much.”

  Tara nodded, her expression grim as she put away the rest of the groceries.

  “I know you’ll look for him. The question is whether or not he’ll let you find him.”

  Son of a bitch. Sean scooped the money into the box and stuck it back under the mattress. “I’ll be back. No, we’ll be back.”

  “Thanks, Sean.” Tara followed him to the door. “I know he’s been a real pain lately.”

  He planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “Yeah, but he’s our pain.”

  Lena hurried down the street, hoping her quarry was still in the restaurant. When she’d peeked through the front window earlier, a waiter had just delivered her target’s meal. The plate piled high with pasta and tomato sauce had made her stom ach growl again, so she’d left long enough to buy a sandwich up the street. It hadn’t been the first time her job had interfered with getting three squares a day.

  Just as she reached the edge of the building, the door to the restaurant swung open and her mystery man walked out, stopping to put on his black leather duster. The sight made her mouth go dry. Hot damn, someone that good-looking should come with a warning label. Did he even realize how many women stopped to
stare at him? Evidently not, because he looked totally unaware of all the attention.

  She pretended to be involved in a cell phone call as he looked up and down the street, relaxing only after his eyes swept past her without stopping. She snapped his picture with the phone’s camera, catching him in profile. What was it about him that made her pulse race when she looked at him? It had to be more than his good looks. Surely she wasn’t that shallow.

  When he turned to walk in the opposite direction, she waited until he was almost a block away before following. The crowds had thinned out, making it harder for her to remain hidden.

  His behavior was puzzling. Ever since he’d parked his car, he’d wandered aimlessly, crisscrossing this section of downtown Seattle over and over again, stopping every so often to peer down side streets and alleys. Did he have nothing better to do? Or had he somehow picked up on her presence? She’d tailed many suspects in her job without being caught, but she had a feeling that this guy was more aware of his surroundings than he let on.

  This was getting her nowhere, and the longer she trailed him, the more likely he’d catch on. She’d try again tomorrow, packing a change of jackets, a couple of hats, and another pair of sunglasses to vary her appearance.

  She turned back, and when she reached the corner she looked back one last time, easily picking him out. He moved with a long-legged grace that made him stand apart from the other men. She wished she at least knew his name. A woman should know that much about the man she’d be featuring in her dreams.

  The feeling of being followed had resumed as soon as Sandor left the restaurant. The guy was good at his job, because Sandor couldn’t pick the bastard out of the crowd. He was about to go back down the block to catch his stalker when the sensation disappeared. Whoever had been dogging his footsteps was gone.

  To top it all off, there was no sign of any gang activity, and this was the time most of the attacks had taken place. Finding the culprits would be more a matter of luck than skill, since they’d staked out a big territory for their operation. But he was reluctant to call in any Talions from out of state to aid in the search; it wouldn’t say much for him as chief enforcer if he couldn’t solve his first real case.

  He returned to his car, flipping open his cell phone. Maybe Ranulf would be up for a workout. They both needed to keep their fighting skills honed, and he’d sleep better after taking out some frustration on someone who could fight back.

  “Here—you’re bleeding.”

  Ranulf caught the towel Sandor tossed him and wiped the corner of his mouth. He sat down on the weight bench across from Sandor with a satisfied sigh.

  “Thanks. Kerry hates it when I drip blood on the furniture.”

  “Not as much as Judith would have.” Sandor smiled as he reached for his bottled water. “She would’ve fried us both for doing that.”

  Ranulf closed his eyes briefly, his hand going to the talisman at his throat. “I miss her each and every day. There are rare times I forget she’s gone, and then it hurts all over again when I remember.”

  The quiet confession surprised Sandor; the Viking wasn’t usually one to share confidences. But ever since they’d joined forces to kill the renegade, they’d started building a friendship. The road was a rocky one, but they were making progress.

  Sandor felt compelled to make his own confession. “I only served her for a few decades, but her death left a real hole in my life. You and Judith worked together for almost ten centuries. Getting over her loss won’t be easy for either of us.”

  “Having Kerry helps.” The other man’s expression immediately lightened.

  Sandor wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing Ranulf smile so easily. It was almost scary, as if some pod person had taken the real Viking’s place. The man had been a legend among their kind for much of his long life: the grim, implacable arbiter of justice, a killer with no conscience.

  Sandor had bought into the myth himself. But that had all changed when fate and a renegade had brought Kerry into their lives. The light in her soul balanced out the darkness that Ranulf had lived with for centuries. No wonder he looked at her with such hunger in his eyes.

  It was time to go home and let Ranulf get back to his woman.

  “Thanks for the workout. I needed it.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ranulf’s grin turned wolfish. “I’m always up for using you for a punching bag.”

  Sandor arched an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who was bleeding.”

  “True, but you are developing a nice shiner.” Ranulf pushed himself off the bench and started for the stairs, clapping Sandor on the shoulder as he passed by. “By morning it should be in full bloom. I hope black and blue are your favorite colors.”

  “Go to hell,” Sandor told him with no real heat, and followed Ranulf upstairs.

  Kerry was waiting for them at the top of the steps. “Are you two done pounding on each other? Hughes thought we were having an earthquake.”

  She reached up to touch her husband’s mouth, no doubt using her healing touch on the small cut. She shouldn’t waste her energy on such trivial wounds. She’d be after Sandor, too, as soon as she spotted the swelling above his eye.

  As if reading his thoughts, she blocked his way when he tried to go around her. “Not so fast.”

  “It will heal on its own,” Sandor grumbled, knowing that arguing wouldn’t do any good. Kerry was a natural born healer.

  “True. But do you really want to spend the next week explaining to everyone how you got it?”

  He sighed. “Fine. Fix it.”

  He closed his eyes and absorbed the stream of warmth that flowed from Kerry’s soft touch. When she was done, the new energy zinging through him made it clear that she’d given him more than it took to heal a simple bruise.

  “Don’t say it, Sandor,” she warned. “You needed it.”

  “Even if I did, you had no right.”

  He let his anger show but resisted the urge to use his size to crowd her—barely. The Viking might pull his punches when the two of them were sparring, but all bets were off if he thought Sandor was threatening Kerry.

  Time and tension hung heavily among the three of them as they waited to see who would be the first to blink. Finally, Sandor stepped back.

  “It’s been a long day.”

  It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was the best he could do at the moment. He needed a shower, he needed his bed, and he needed to get a certain blonde out of his mind.

  Ranulf followed Sandor out to his car. Damn it, he didn’t need this. “What?” Sandor snapped, flexing his hands just in case.

  Ranulf glanced back toward the house. “She meant well. She’s still learning the rules.”

  “I know. And it doesn’t help that I haven’t been exactly stable lately.” Not that he wanted to talk about it. “I’d better get going while I’m still awake enough to drive.”

  “You’ve still got a room here if you want it,” Ranulf reminded him.

  “Thanks, but I want to get an early start tomorrow.” Besides, he rather sleep in his own bed.

  “Okay. Let me know if I can do anything to help. We’re more caught up on things, and I could use a little action. Don’t want to get rusty.”

  “I might need your help patrolling a couple of the areas where the attacks have taken place. Give me a couple of days to get a handle on things, and I’ll let you know.”

  “Sounds good.” Then Ranulf stepped closer, glaring at Sandor with eyes that had turned the color of polar ice. “One more thing. Don’t EVER come that close to threatening my wife again. You won’t like the consequences.” Then he was gone.

  “Did you find Kenny?” Tara asked.

  “Yeah, he’ll be along in his own good time.” Sean flopped down on the couch. “Sorry I was gone so long, but it took me a while to find him, and then I had to wait until he was alone to make my approach.”

  “Was he angry?”

  “When isn’t he?” Sean snarled as he kicked off his shoes. Dea
ling with a surly teenager wasn’t easy even when he was fully rested and fed.

  “Sean, he’s not that bad.” Tara held out a plate of food as a peace offering. “Why don’t you eat and then go to bed? I’ll wait up for him.”

  Sean picked up a slice of apple and bit into it. “You shouldn’t have to. He knows the rules.”

  She already had enough on her shoulders, but there was no arguing with her. If he ate slowly enough, Kenny might show up before Sean ran out of excuses to stay up.

  He scooted over and patted the space beside him. “Sit and keep me company.”

  She curled up on the other end of the couch, and asked, “When do you plan on going hunting again?”

  “I’d hoped to put it off for two or three days, but Kenny’s likely to bolt if we don’t let him try. I’m hoping he won’t explode over me hovering nearby to make sure he doesn’t run into any problems.”

  Tara stared at her hands clenched in her lap. “Me, too. It worries me knowing he’s on the streets alone even when he’s just hanging out. He’s only thirteen, and there are far worse predators out there than us.”

  Sean had the same concerns, but Kenny had managed to survive for close to a year by himself after running away from his last foster home. The boy had developed good instincts—at least when his hormones and temper weren’t getting in the way. Sean was about to say so when he heard a familiar noise out in the hallway.

  “He’s coming.” He shoved his plate into Tara’s hands. “Quick, so he won’t think we’re ganging up on him.”

  Tara scrambled around the corner to the kitchen while Sean dashed for his bedroom, jumped in bed, and yanked the blanket up over his shoulders with only seconds to spare. He turned to face the wall to keep Kenny from realizing that he was still awake.