Dream Shard (5 page)

His head hurt.

Devon focused on the pain, letting the burning keep him aware of everything.

Devon Ross.

It pissed him off to roll the name around in his mind and feel nothing. Not even a twinge of recognition. Maintaining his relaxed pose took all his self-discipline because he wanted to smash the man carrying him. Send his fist into the guy’s face enough times to maybe send him into the cloud of ignorance Devon was stuck in.

At least they had to carry him.

There was small comfort in hearing their panting as they labored to haul his dead weight.

Well, he might not have known his own name, but he had a firm sense of how to form an action plan. It was second nature to him and brought to mind Kalin’s opinion that he was military trained.

Kalin.

Her face filled his mind, and he risked opening his eyes because he just couldn’t remain still any longer.

She was dying.

Back on her kitchen floor, she was slipping away because of him. A memory stirred of blonde hair and blue eyes. It hurt, like a razor-sharp sword cutting through his flesh. Failure filled him with a bitterness he recognized as familiar.

But Kalin was dark haired, and it was her hazel eyes that took the place of the other woman from his past. It was Kalin he was desperate to return to, but the bitterness haunted him with a failure from long ago.

“I’ve got to put him down for a second,” the man carrying him in a fire-rescue hold declared with a wheeze. “Asshole has to weigh over two hundred.”

The man bent, letting Devon slide off his shoulder. As gravity took him down, Devon grabbed the pistol sitting in the man’s shoulder holster, pulling it free and slipping the safety off before he hit the dirt.

Devon discharged the weapon before the man knew he’d been disarmed.

“Shit!” his companion yelled, but Devon was already pulling the trigger for a second time, the barrel leveled at his target. The gun fit in his hand with a familiar ease and it was second nature to line up the shot.

“We need him alive!” Gold Tooth yelled.

Devon rolled and dropped another man before lunging away from a shot aimed at his leg by Gold Tooth. It was the only shot he got off. Devon kept going, allowing centrifugal force to help him rise onto a knee and then his feet. The crouching position was familiar, his knees and legs perfectly trained to support him. Gold Tooth hesitated, obviously trained to kill. He angled the muzzle of his rifle at Devon’s heart but had to adjust his aim.

Devon dropped him in that moment. The sound of the single shot echoed off the trees and startled a few birds.

“But I don’t need you alive,” Devon muttered softly. He maintained his position for a long moment, making sure Gold Tooth’s chest didn’t rise. Blood slowly leaked out of the head wound and Devon dismissed the body.

He stuck the gun in his waistband before looking through one of the dead men’s pockets for the keys to the handcuffs. He dropped them beside the body along with the handcuffs before pulling one of the high-powered rifles over his shoulder. He took only a moment to yank the vest off the man who had carried him, looking for ammunition, before turning and running back down the road.

It was another thing he took to with ease, his heart and lungs performing well as he pressed himself faster and faster toward Kalin’s cabin.

He couldn’t be too late.

Not again.

Grace Campbell wasn’t much on conversation. She was dressed head to toe like any one of the Army Rangers lined up in the cemetery. Normally, her gloves set her apart. Today, only her petite frame did as the honor guard turned out in formal dress to lay Devon Ross to rest.

“Present arms!”

The honor guard performed perfectly, executing their order with a precise motion. The rifle salute rang out in the early morning air before the bugler finished the graveside ceremony with the lone, mournful sound of his instrument.

General Slynn gained a salute from everyone except for Grace. She wore fatigues instead of a dress uniform, set apart by Operative status. The gap was closing and the headstone of her fellow Operative bore more signs that they were no longer invisible members of the armed forces.

“There was a time I hoped you and Ross would pair up. Today, I’m glad that didn’t happen,” the general remarked in a low, gravelly voice.

“Because you hope this won’t be my last child, or because you don’t want to see me unhappy?”

The general’s attention dropped to her distended belly. There wasn’t much fat on her frame, making her advanced pregnancy look even more pronounced.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to watch another widow receive a flag.”

She nodded. “I believe you.”

He pulled his hat from beneath his forearm and sat it on his head again. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know he counted you among his friends.”

“Thank you.”

She meant it. Even if personal relationships were a new thing for her. At least when it came to the officers. “But I think it’s Major Gennaro who needs comfort more than me.”

The general cut a look toward Garrick Gennaro. The man was textbook perfect in his dress, every button gleaming and his back ramrod straight. Too rigid really—he looked ready to snap.

“He’s closed off,” Grace remarked.

“I don’t need your abilities to know that,” Slynn said. “But it’s something he’ll have to work through. No one can teach a man how to deal with losing those under his command.”

The general moved toward Gennaro anyway and Devon’s Commanding Officer turned to cut him a salute.

“I never thought Devon would be the one to go down.”

Grace’s fellow female Operative glided up beside her and flashed her a smile. Sonya Roberts was blonde haired and green eyed but her eyes were a light green compared with Grace’s emerald ones.

“You know, since you went and did that again, I’m working overtime.”

Sonya pointed at Grace’s belly, but her tone was teasing.

“I’m bored out of my skull,” Grace confessed. “Jacobs won’t let me do a thing.”

Sonya titled her head to one side. “I bet it’s more than your C.O. making sure you stay down. You do have a bit of a reputation for running yourself hard. Pregnancy doesn’t take too well to that sort of thing.”

Grace made a low sound under her breath. “I’ll be sure to remember your kindness when it’s your turn.”

“Yeah.” Sonya looked back at the casket. “I don’t think that’s coming anytime soon.”

There was a touch of doom in her tone that Grace understood. Devon had known it as well. They were Operatives. The men of their units did their best to safeguard them, but today was a harsh reminder of just how high the stakes were. Devon had enjoyed his role among the Special Forces more than Sonya or Grace. He fit in with the male members of his escort and maybe it was fitting that he’d died with them. The emotions bleeding off of Garrick Gennaro were thick with rage and regret. He was holding back a wave of intense feelings that just might drown him when he ran out of strength.

But Grace still couldn’t bring herself to say Devon was lucky. He’d had rough blows in his life, but being gone seemed a terrible waste. The baby inside her moved, threatening to send tears down her cheeks as she recalled just how close she’d come to being the first among them to die in the line of duty. Devon had left no one.

At least no one who knew he was related to them.

For a moment, she considered the secret he’d left behind. She was the only one among those he’d lived with who knew he had a daughter, and that was only because he hadn’t been able to shield his thoughts completely from her.

It wasn’t her secret to tell. She’d understood his reasons for making sure his daughter wasn’t known to the military. In fact, Grace agreed with many of those reasons. Being a female Operative was a harsh life, one that had already driven two of their number to suicide.

But that wouldn’t matter. No, not a bit. If any of the officers running the psychic branch found out Devon had left behind a child, they’d stop at nothing to obtain her. They’d find some way to twist their data into a convincing picture of the odds being better if they were able to train her young.

There were times the black-market thugs and her own commanding officers had a great deal in common. Grace caught one watching her from across the road. His gaze settled on her distended belly. He was already calculating when her unborn son might begin testing. Unlike her and Sonya and Devon, her sons would know no life beyond being Operatives.

She just wasn’t completely sure if it was the right path. Maybe they would never know the frustrations she had or maybe she was robbing them of a normal childhood.

No, she wouldn’t tell Devon’s secret. His daughter would grow up with stuffed animals on her bed and maybe a nightlight, not the scratchy wool blankets of a barracks and a location-beacon armband.

Maybe he’d rest in peace.

He’d earned it.

It wasn’t the first time he’d caused a woman’s death.

Devon felt the icy touch of a memory, one that was so devastating he hurt without even recalling the details. Only the rage that had flooded him as he’d looked into a face that stared sightlessly into the night sky.

Heather.

No…Kalin.

The memory was enticing. But he needed to focus on the moment. Even without the details of his past, he sensed one thing—he’d have plenty of time to wallow in despair later.

The cabin came into view and he forced himself to stop and scan the road in front of the house. Charging out into the open was a good way to get himself recaptured.

He didn’t bother to worry about being killed. Surviving didn’t necessarily mean he was lucky.

No, it meant he was left with the memory of how knowing him had been fatal to another woman.

The birds were calling to one another as they searched for food. He watched them for a moment before moving across the road. Wildlife would always tell you when there were humans moving nearby.

He took the steps in one stride before opening the door and scanning the cabin. His blood chilled as he caught sight of one of Kalin’s feet. The sole of her boot was caked with the soft soil that surrounded the pool. It was dry now and falling onto her kitchen floor.

The bottle of prescription pills was still on the counter. He refused to let it keep him from trying to help her. She was lying on the floor, looking like a broken doll. He knelt beside her, slipping his hand along her neck to search for her pulse. The tiny throb beneath his fingers was a relief, but he knew it didn’t mean she was going to survive.

Still, it was better than a bullet to the brain.

The scent of stomach acid teased his nose. He shifted his attention to a glistening patch on the floor. The white pills stood out plainly.

She’d managed to vomit.

“Kalin?”

He patted her cheek and her eyelids fluttered.

“Kalin, open your eyes.” He was being harsh, but strength meant you survived. “Open them now.”

She was sleepy.

So incredibly drowsy.

Someone slapped her. The sound seemed like it was somewhere off in the distance, but the sting was definitely on her cheek. She reached up to push her tormentor away.

“Look at me, Kalin.”

“All right.” She opened her eyes but it took a moment for her vision to focus.

“You threw up the pills.”

Devon was leaning over her, his gaze locking with hers. She felt the touch of his mind and smiled.

“You escaped.” Everything felt fuzzy and off balance like a dream. Even if it was a dream, she was still going to enjoy it.

“And it looks like you’ve managed to escape too.” His tone was full of something that she wanted to savor. Like appreciation. He wasn’t the sort of man who handed out compliments to the undeserving.

Escape
.

Her mind shook off enough of the haze from the medication. “Oh God. I’ve got to get up. Don’t let me sleep.”

She tried to push her body off the kitchen floor but didn’t have any coordination. Her hands were half-numb and slipped out from behind her when she tried to push herself up.

Devon grasped her clothing and hauled her off the floor in one powerful motion. She gasped, unable to hold back her emotions. It was all she could do to keep her knees from folding.

“Tell me what to do,” he demanded.

A rush of dizziness assaulted her. She closed her eyes to avoid pitching forward.

“Open your eyes, Kalin.”

“You sound like a drill sergeant.” But she complied, and this time her vision wasn’t blurry. “Coffee. I don’t know how much is in my system. I need to stay awake. Caffeine…sugar. How many are left in the bottle?”

She tried to turn around and find the little beige bottle. Devon set her against the counter with an ease that stunned her. All those cut muscles weren’t just for show.

He counted the remaining pills and the ones on the floor.

“There are two in your system.” He came back around into the kitchen. “That’s a double dose. Can you survive it?”

Her brain was foggy. “I need to move, work it out of my…um…system.”

“We have to leave anyway,” he said. “This location isn’t secure.”

He rummaged around in the cabinet and pulled out a soda. “I put those four down, but there will be another team. They will be looking for us.”

He popped the top on the soda and put it in her hand. He didn’t just hand it to her, he actually closed her fingers around it and lifted it to her lips. The sweet, fizzy beverage helped wash the oil from her mouth. “I haven’t done that since college.”

He was halfway into the living room and turned around to peg her with a questioning look. “Taken an overdose?”

“Willingly drunk vegetable oil…to avoid getting too drunk…”

Instead of a look of distaste, his face brightened with approval. “That’s thinking on your feet.”

He disappeared into the bedroom. She heard him rummaging before he returned with her small backpack. It was stuffed full of clothing and he dropped it on the kitchen counter with the top still open. He began to pull packaged foods from the cabinets. Just the lightest and quickest things like crackers and peanut butter.