Dawn Endeavor 4: Gunnar's Game (12 page)

Then become Alicia's personal shadow.” A terrific plan.

He frowned. “I don't see her okay with that.”

“I know.” Ava gave him a sly grin. “Consider it payback for all the meddling she's done in your life.”

“She gave me Morgan. How can I hate that?”

Ava leaned forward to stroke Kisho's cheek. “Morgan is so lucky to have you.

But trust me when I say the woman is a busybody. You have no idea how you've been manipulated.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I'll tell you all about it when this vision and our troubles are over.”

“We're Circ. Our troubles will never be over.”

“You have a point,” she conceded. And though she hated to ask, she found her lips moving anyway. “Seen Gunnar lately?”

A ghost of a frown crossed his face. “No, and Jules isn't happy about it. I don't see anything negative in Tersch's future, but he's in a bad way. I know it.”

“He's always in a bad way,” she muttered. “
I killed him, and sick fuck that I
am, I loved him. I loved all of them, you know. But I love you even more
.” Could her life suck any more? To finally hear his declaration of love, right before he threatened to murder her because of it? The man seriously owed her one hell of an explanation.

She glanced up to see Kisho's sober expression. “What?”

“Ava, Gunnar's had a thing for you from day one. It's grown worse. He's infatuated, obsessed, in love, call it what you will. But he's afraid to hurt you.”

“So he said.” In detail.

“You don't know how he suffered, and he'll never tell you.” Kisho looked sad.

“He's one of the most generous people I know, though he'd be mortified to hear me tell it. I can't know how bad his past was because I didn't live it, but I do know he lived with an abusive father for most of his young life. There's tragedy there, and some of it's due to the wildness that lurks beneath his heart.” An abusive father? That started to put things into perspective. Odd she'd never read of that in his detailed files.

“He needs you, Ava. He needs you to be whole. His rages worry me; they're getting worse. I know you can help calm him, but you have to make him see what we all know—that he'd never hurt his mate. Not in a million years.” The faith Kisho had for his friend made her ashamed she'd doubted Gunnar.

“I admit,” he continued, “his berserker can be alarming. But in all the time we've been together, he's never harmed me. He's been rough, aggressive, and at times downright dominant. But he's my friend, and I hate to see him hurting like he is.”

“I'll try, Kisho. But he's been avoiding me. I talked to him yesterday.” She blinked away angry tears of frustration and remorse. “It didn't go well.”

“Morgan and I figured as much when we saw you leave hand in hand but you returned alone and upset and smelling like one furious she-demon.” He held up his hands. His eyes crinkled. “Morgan's expression, not mine.”

“Your mate is an ass. But he's sweet on the inside, yeah, yeah. Trust me. I know Morgan the way you know Gunnar. And if Gunnar could love me half as much as Morgan loves you, I'd consider myself one lucky Circ.” Kisho patted her leg. “Then you know what you have to do. Collar the stubborn bastard and make him admit how wrong he's been for not believing in himself and you.”

His advice gave her the confidence she needed to seek out Gunnar once more.

When had Ava ever quit when going after something she wanted? Why start now? “I love you, Kisho. Marry me.”

The phone suddenly rang, interrupting her. She answered it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Witch. Get yourself dressed and away from my mate.” Morgan's snippy attitude cheered her even more. “Before you ask, I'm using one of the astral projectors here—one I know we can trust—and you wouldn't believe what he's seeing. You and my mate in your bedroom.”

Ava grinned and waved at the ceiling. “Kisho's thinking of going hetero for me.” Ava batted her eyes.

Morgan's growl made both her and Kisho laugh.

“Oh, relax, Cuz. I've tolerated you and him balling what's mine, so give me some slack.”

Morgan coughed. “Jeez, Ava. It's an instinctive bonding thing. You know that.

And Kisho and I don't really do stuff with the guys anymore unless it's an all or nothing thing. Er, not usually. We're monogamous, mostly.”

“You are so cute when your face is all red.” Ava grinned.

“You don't know shit.”

“I don't have to see you to know you're blushing.” Kisho laughed. “You were wrong, Morgan. She isn't evil at all. She called you cute.”

“Shut up, kitsu. And you,” he said to Ava. “You and Tersch deserve each other.”

“Thanks! Now you need to get a move on. If your psychic hasn't filled you in, Kisho will when he calls you later. Here are the nuts and bolts.” She briefly filled him in on her conversation with Keegan.

Morgan sighed. “Fine, fine. Just make sure Kisho keeps his distance from Keegan. To tell the truth, I'll feel better when all the admiral's psychics around this place leave and don't come back. No offence, Scott,” he murmured to someone in the foreground. “I don't like the way Foreman looks at my kitsu.”

Kisho stood and winked at Ava. “If Gunnar doesn't come back soon, you'll probably find him at an abandoned cabin fourteen miles due east of here.
Change
and run that way, and you'll scent him.”

“Thanks.”

Morgan tried asking a question, but Kisho interrupted. “I'll explain later, Morgan. And Scott, get out of here,” he said to the astral projector. Kisho leaned over her to disconnect the call. “Good luck, Ava.”

“You too.”

She waited until Kisho left before jumping out of bed. Excited about her newfound courage to deal with her scary, emotionally scarred mate, she wasn't ready for the mental blast that hit her between the eyes. Damn you, Grayson, she swore before hitting the floor—hard. Then she blacked out.

* * *

Alicia Sharpe and Robert Anderson exchanged a look filled with understanding over the head of the small, balding man currently spouting book and verse about spending, overspending, and unlawful travel claims.

Alicia wanted to ask the loathsome little toad if he was serious. Then she wanted to rip his throat out and feast on his entrails. She stole a glance at her designer suit and nixed the idea. She didn't want to think about staining her pale blue wool skirt or getting blood on her precious pearls. She fingered one earlobe, comforted by the smooth round gemstone. Though she knew the action to be telling, she at times used the convention to express nerves she didn't necessarily feel.

Looking like a frail older woman had its advantages.

Robert saw her touch the earring and gave a subtle nod. He couldn't stand Hank Berstrom either. The accountant acted as if each penny he saved the government came from his own wallet, yet he never questioned claims from his lobbyist friends for yachts, five-star hotels, and gourmet dining.

“What I think Mrs. Sharpe means, Mr. Berstrom, is that her project is still as viable today as it was a year ago. Admiral London sent you the paperwork yesterday, I believe. He copied me the memo.” Robert sounded apologetic as he reached into his briefcase and handed Berstrom the memo.

While she waited for him to read it, she sought deep inside herself for the answers she needed. She'd loved Geoffrey London for over thirty years. She'd been far from a young girl when they'd met, though he'd been an aspiring junior naval officer. Something about him had enamored her from the very beginning. He had good looks, intelligence, and manners drilled into him by loving parents. But it was his integrity, his yearning to give and protect those who couldn't protect themselves, that had struck a chord in her. That and his scent.

After the death of her mate, she'd never thought to find love again. Then she met Lonnie. Though human, Lonnie smelled like a Circ. Like home. He had a small bit of psychic ability, a touch of awareness for others with psychic gifts. And he'd been as drawn to her as she was to him.

Both of them had responsibilities that pulled them apart from one another. His had been to the United States Navy, while Alicia's had been to her family and the future her mother had long ago shown her. When she'd met Lonnie, it seemed as if fate smiled upon her, because Lonnie and his aims were a part of it all.

She didn't know how her life would end. Nor did she know if the things she influenced would come back to one day haunt her. She only did what her mother and her mother's mother had done before her. She trusted in her spirit, in the totem of her foremothers, and in herself. She loved Lonnie with the same passion she stored for those she considered her own. Like her daughter and her descendants, her sisters and her nieces and nephews.

Without her help, Ava, Morgan, and Olivia would never have come close to achieving their potential. Now Morgan had a mate to love. Olivia had a husband and father for her child. Ava still needed her help, but her great-great-granddaughter had to do things her way. Stubborn brat. Alicia curbed a smile, knowing that in Gunnar, Ava had found a man worthy of the title
mate.

Her pleasure in their stunted courtship faded. Gunnar had a world of hurt in his broad frame. A lifetime of cruelties suffered by an innocent child who'd turned into a brusque, hardened man. Only a stubborn woman like Ava would be able to pierce his hard shell and conquer the monster within.

A strong female for a strong male. The pair were obviously alike, both stubborn yet fierce. Unlike Alicia and Lonnie. He'd said it had never bothered him that Alicia was physically stronger than he was, so psychically gifted. But perhaps it had. Maybe that's why he'd turned against her in this time of strife.

She blinked away useless tears, distressed and disgusted that she could be so weak in the presence of others. Alicia never cried, and she couldn't have said why she lately had trouble containing her emotions. To her relief, Berstrom and Robert seemed to be engaged in conversation and unaware of her distress.

Subtly composing herself, Alicia reined in her awkward emotions, not used to feeling so much uncertainty. She believed in a higher power, in the spirits that guided her. She'd deal with Lonnie the way she'd dealt with so much other stress in her long-lived life. One day at a time.

“Right, Mrs. Sharpe?” Robert said.

“I'm sorry, dear. What was that?”

Berstrom sniffed. “He just said that there's no reason for you to remain while he and I iron out the details the two of you already agreed upon.” She smiled and nodded at Robert, grateful he'd decided to deal with Berstrom's unpleasantness by himself. No reason for them both to suffer. But before she could thank him, she felt a distinct sense of wrongness. Without letting either man see her unease, she slowly rose from her chair.

Robert moved forward to assist her and caught her hand in his. She felt the slow draw of his finger over the back of her hand, a familiar stroke he often used when they met. Come to think of it, Robert often found an excuse to touch her.

Nothing sexual, just platonic touches to endear himself, or so she'd once thought.

Not sure why she'd never noticed it before, she instinctively pushed a psychic block at the contact. Then she caught the faint trace of Melissa Ramirez on him.

Stunned and not sure what to think, she kept her expression pleasantly polite and nodded her thanks. “I'll see you later, Robert? Dinner, my treat.” She forced a smile and glanced at Berstrom.

Robert's lips quirked. For an older man, he kept himself in shape. Thick black hair threaded with silver was coifed in a sophisticated cut and gave him a polished look. His nails, his grooming, even his manners were always so carefully displayed.

Wondering if Melissa thought to use Robert against them or if Robert could possibly be an enemy to beware, Alicia kept up her internal shields while projecting friendship and the scent of trust. Unlike others of her kind, Alicia could and did scent emotions. Robert's seemed typically driven, nothing dark or untoward. Yet Alicia couldn't help feeling a bit hazy where he was concerned. Too bad Olivia or Jesse couldn't have accompanied her. She could have used their input.

No matter. By projecting her own light scent of trust, she'd control the players of this game she had no intention of losing. Her Circs, her great-great-granddaughter, and her entire future depended upon coming out the winner.

Her mind now on this new mystery, she slowly made her way from the room into the hallway. She walked down the corridor toward Admiral London's office in this five-sided puzzle palace. Time to see just how deep Lonnie had sunk in this quagmire of deceit.

He watched carefully as she walked down the hall. Lonnie had to make damn sure the woman couldn't see the truth. She had eyes like a bat and the intuition of a soothsayer. For all he knew, she really did see the future. Alicia Sharpe knew enough to be dangerous, like that asshole Kisho Hayashi. Personally, Lonnie had no use for prognostication. What was the use of knowing a future that might or might not come true? It gave him a headache to ponder the probabilities—if tomorrow would happen because he'd affected it that way, or because it was meant to happen.

Fortunately, his talent lay elsewhere. He'd been working his mojo on Sharpe for years. Though they'd only come together officially on this project, he'd set the stage some time ago. He needed her to trust him, and with the press of his fingers against her hand, those harmless handshakes, he'd infused a link she had yet to deny. He had her right where he wanted her. If she'd found him out, she'd have killed him long ago.

He could respect that. From one predator to another, taking out the weak, disabling the enemy, made sense. And speaking of weak… He felt the small note Melissa had left in his jacket pocket and wanted to kill her, right the fuck now. He'd been so careful for so long. Apparently, forcing her to leave the other night hadn't done him any favors. The bitch had sneaked an apologetic love note into his inside pocket, amid a few other business cards he'd tucked away.

He had only himself to blame, of course. He should have gone through his things before coming to work. Aside from Sharpe, there were hidden psychics running amuck in the Pentagon, more turnouts from the PWP. Both a blessing and a curse. While he took credit for the project's successes, he also had to guard against being found out. Unfortunately, he couldn't count on all of his men standing by him, not when he sometimes awarded foreign nations rights that ran counter to American objectives.