15 Targeted (8 page)

“Rageron? You mean the Kindred home world?”

“It is one of them.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I assume you don’t wish to stay here while going through your
Tenrah.
You need to go back home where there are suitable males to choose from.”

“Back
home?
You mean you think that
Rageron
is my home?” Emily shook her head, not understanding him.

“Of course.” He frowned. “You are clearly
Khalla—
your scent proclaims it as do the changes in your eyes and hair when your
Kit’tara
comes forward.”

“Wait a minute—you
know
about that?” Emily sat up straighter and stared at him. “You know about my eyes? And the…what did you call it? The thing coming forward?”

“The
Kit’tara—
your secret or second self.” He frowned. “Do you truly not know about these things? How can you be so ignorant of your rightful heritage?”

“I don’t have any ‘heritage’,” Emily protested. “Other than being a Floridian. I was born right here in Tampa at Saint Joe’s hospital.”

“Impossible,” he said flatly. “The Kindred haven’t been on this planet long enough for you to have been born here.”

“But I’m
not
Kindred,” Emily said, exasperated. “You have me confused with someone else.”

He looked at her, his golden eyes narrowed.

“I could not confuse your sweet scent with another’s in a thousand years, Emily. You are
Khalla—
there is no denying it. As a male of the Beast Kindred I am sworn to protect you to the last breath in my body and the last drop of my blood.”

“Well thanks. That’s, uh, really nice.” She was edging away again, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Maybe we could talk about it later? It’s been a long day and I could really use some alone time right about now if you don’t mind. I mean not to be rude but—”

He blew out an exasperated breath.

“Have you not heard a word I said to you? Someone wants you
dead
. And the male who put the contract on you all but promised me I wasn’t the only assassin assigned to target you. Every minute you’re out here alone in this unprotected place you’re in danger.”

“I’m not unprotected—I have an alarm system,” Emily protested.

“The one with the code numbers 7-17-27?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hey!” Emily put her arms around herself and shivered. “That’s
private!”

“Yet it was one of the first things I found out about you when I started my surveillance.” The big Kindred crossed his arms over his broad, muscular chest and frowned at her. “I could have come into your domicile any night and killed you as you slept.”

“Ugh!” Emily shuddered involuntarily. “What a horrible thing to say! And you wonder why I don’t want to go anywhere with you?”

“I’m simply stating the facts. I’m a very good assassin—I haven’t missed a target yet. But it wouldn’t take a member of the
Verrak
to take you out. Any fool with a sonic rifle and a scope could do it.” He motioned to her front lawn. “Look how your sight lines are blocked by vegetation—foolish! The locks on your doors are easily pickable and even if they were not, the doors themselves are made of such flimsy material they could be forced with very little effort.”

“Oh my God.” Emily leaned away from him. “You really
have
been studying me. Watching me…waiting for the right opportunity to…to…” But she couldn’t finish the thought.

“As I told you—I was hired to kill you.”

He shrugged, his massive shoulders rolling with the gesture. He was wearing a black leather vest which left his arms free. On the right one was an intricate tattoo of black cross hatched lines that ran from shoulder to wrist. For a moment it almost seemed to pulse—the lines wriggling along his tan skin.

“Even now the
narsh
calls to me, reminding me that I have given my word to kill you,” he said, nodding at the tattoo she was studying. “But I will not answer its call. Though I have turned my back on everything else I ever believed, I cannot violate my most basic instincts—you are a
Khalla
in danger here and you
must
be protected.”

“I don’t know you—I never met you until fifteen minutes ago!” Emily was up on her feet now, backing away. “How do I know you’re not just making up some kind of story to get me to come with you? I mean, maybe you’re some kind of…of Kindred
serial killer
and you just want to take me back to your ship and go all Silence of the Lambs on me. Maybe you want to wear my skin and eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti!”

He frowned and looked down at his large black boots. He appeared to consider for a while before answering. At last he looked up.

“I can see why my words would seem suspect to you. If you truly believe yourself to be human and you have no knowledge of your true birthright, everything I have told you would sound like an elaborate lie to lure you away to your death.”

“Damn right, that’s
exactly
how it sounds!” Emily said in a shaking voice. “So just stay away from me!”

“Emily…
Khalla…”
He took a step towards her and she backed up some more.

“I said
stay away!
I’m not who you think I am—you have me confused with someone else.”

Still he kept advancing, as silent and as menacing as a panther that had somehow escaped its cage to go wandering around a residential area.

Emily looked around wildly, trying to find a way out of this situation. Maybe she could get around to the back door where she kept a key under a fake rock…

“That’s him, officer! That’s the man I saw coming up here!” The high, quavering voice of Mrs. Harmon, Emily’s nosy next door neighbor, suddenly split the tense silence between them.

Oh, thank God!

Emily looked up with relief to see two police officers, guns drawn, advancing up her driveway. Behind them, wearing a pink flowered muumuu was Mrs. Harmon. Her gray hair was already up in curlers for the night even though it wasn’t yet five o’clock.

Emily thought she had never been so glad to see her nosy neighbor in her life. When she’d first moved in, Mrs. Harmon had made her life semi-miserable coming over constantly with pies and casseroles and invitations to join this book club and that bridge club and every other intrusive thing under the sun. Now Emily swore to herself that she’d join anything her neighbor asked her to, no matter how irritating it seemed.

Of course Mrs. Harmon was a
little
late—it would have been nice to have help while Grayson was menacing her. But his blond American good looks and expensive suit probably hadn’t pinged her elderly neighbor’s radar nearly as hard as the big Kindred’s long hair, tattoos, and leather vest. Not to mention his sheer size and his brilliant golden eyes.

That’s him—that’s
him,”
Mrs. Harmon exclaimed again, pointing at the Kindred who’d said his name was Tragar. “Get him, officers!”

“Just stand back, Ma’am,” one of the policemen said to Mrs. Harmon. “We can handle it from here.”

“You’d better handle it! I told you what I saw him do to that other man’s hand! And poor Emily is all alone here since she
still
doesn’t have a husband.”

Emily felt a little of her goodwill and gratitude slipping. She tried to remind herself that her neighbor came from a generation that believed getting married and having kids was every woman’s sole purpose in life but it was still irritating to hear the tone of pity in Mrs. Harmon’s voice—as though being single was some kind of disease Emily was afflicted with.

“Ma’am,” the officer said, this time speaking to Emily. “Are you all right? Is this individual harming or threatening you in any way?”

“I—” Emily began but she didn’t know what to say. Both the policemen and the big Kindred were staring at her, waiting. “He…said he was sent here to kill me,” she said at last. “But then he said he wouldn’t,” she continued quickly as Mrs. Harmon sucked in a gasp of dismay. “Because I’m, uh, special somehow. Some kind of something that needs to be protected.”

“Sir, I think you’d better come with us,” the second officer said to Tragar.

The big Kindred shook his head, not even looking at the police. His eyes were locked on Emily’s, giving her the uncomfortable sensation that he could somehow see through her.

“
Khalla,”
he said softly in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “You are making a mistake. You’re not safe here.”

“I—” But before Emily could say anything else he simply melted into the bushes at the edge of her lawn and disappeared.

“What the hell! Stop—that’s an order!” the first policeman yelled, running for the Breadfruit bushes.

“Did you see where he went?” The second officer went running into the bushes too, gun ready.

But though the two of them searched the bushes with increasing urgency and anger, they couldn’t find even a trace of the huge, golden-eyed Kindred.

He was simply gone.

* * * * *

Tragar moved his vehicle a few blocks down and parked on the other side of the street. Then he enabled the light refracting tech and sat there, invisible for all intents and purposes, to watch the peace keeping officers search for him.

Emily was still outside too—he caught a glimpse of her through the large gaps the officers had made in the vegetation while searching for him. She was standing there—as much a target as ever—talking to her elderly neighbor. The same female who apparently hadn’t been a bit worried when that bastard of a rapist had come upon Emily by herself and unarmed but had decided the law must be called when a male like himself came on the scene. They seemed to be talking and Tragar could imagine what they were saying—Emily was probably confiding the whole, frightening story to the older female who was no doubt consoling her.

He cursed himself for a fool as he watched. Why had he told her he was there to kill her—that she was a target for termination? And why had he revealed that he knew all the particulars of her flimsy security system? At the time, he’d been simply trying to convince her she wasn’t safe and needed to come with him. In retrospect, he could see how his words would come across as menacing and ominous.

I actually told her I could have come into her domicile and killed her at any time I wanted. Gods, what’s wrong with me?
She’s probably frightened to death of me and rightfully so.

It had to be her scent affecting his mind to make him act so stupid. Gods, he’d never smelled a
Khalla
in heat before but his old instructor, Xen’dex, had told him he would never be able to mistake it if he did. And he had been completely right—Emily smelled like a warm, ripe fruit, ready to be plucked.

Tragar wondered how long she’d been in
Tenrah.
Such a state was very dangerous but he was more concerned with the fact that someone else might be targeting her now. His ten solar days were officially up and the
narsh
on his arm was burning. There might not be a formal time limit set in his contract but Emily’s time was clearly running out.

Another thing bothered him too. He’d told her they would try to get the contract on her life revoked but he knew such things were not done—not in the
Verrak.
Once a contract was taken, it
must
be finished—either with the death of the target or the death of the assassin who had failed to kill said target. For years Tragar had courted death—hoping in his secret heart that each new target would be the one who was able to kill him. But now he felt differently—he had a purpose again, other than seeking death. A
Khalla
must be protected, no matter what the cost.