Guardian (32 page)

A spider crawled onto her arm from a blade of grass and she flicked it away.

At that moment, she almost backed out. Was she nuts? No, not nuts, desperate. Although he hadn’t come right out and told her, Vessler had information on her parents’ deaths. She needed that information, and his office was the best place to start looking. She’d ceased to think of him as Damon, the man who “loved” her, the man who gave her a hundred-thousanddollar concept bike and promised her the world. The man who’d bought her a dog as a child then sent the very hell hound that stole its life. No, she’d never call him Damon again, unless, of course, it was to gain the advantage. Because annihilating an opponent was all about having the advantage. Vessler had taught her that.

Now he was the enemy, the man with a plot to destroy her by turning her into a dark creature. But darkness had become shades of gray, and Nikki prepared to sink to a depth Vessler wouldn’t believe her capable. When she was done, gray would be a welcomed if not unattainable gift. For where she intended to go, there was no color at all.

Learn your opponent’s weakness, he’d taught her. Who knew him better than her, the person he’d trained? No one. If he had a weakness, she’d find it. Then she’d use it to annihilate him.

Because she was finally free to make her own choices.

The chilly earth made a comforting bed. Silent, still, she rested her cheek against the grass and closed her eyes. Something inside begged caution, and her eyes snapped open as if denying the sound, the conscience, the warning. Dark surrounded her, but she had no trouble seeing through it. She was a Halfling, after all.

Along the driveway, two black sedans sat at the ready, cars Vessler kept in the adjacent garage. Her eyes scanned the oversized building. Inside, her concept bike waited patiently. When she was done in Vessler’s office, she’d go get her motorcycle. Even if she only drove it out of the garage and into the nearest lake on her way back to the room under Will’s roof, she’d take one more ride on the awesome machine.

Because this trip was just a quick investigation, something her Halfling “siblings” could know nothing about. She couldn’t afford to tip them off before her real mission began.

Yet her gaze trailed the walls of the garage. Something in her core pulled her toward the place, dimly lit by a security light and scrunched by a row of trees butted against its backside like chairs shoved against a table.

A half moon hung over the building, but something about it was off. Her eyes fanned the treetops. Yes, that was it. In the very center, a division in the trees on either side split the woods like a curving river. It was subtle, and if she shifted her body a few feet to the left or to the right, she’d not even notice the breach in the foliage. But there was no doubt it signaled a path that led into the woods from the back of the garage. As if looking at something for the very first time, Nikki tilted onto her elbows. She’d passed the garage a million times, parked inside it on numerous occasions. How could she have missed the trail?

Vessler’s office held little interest for her now. The garage waited, ready to divulge its secrets, and Nikki was eager to listen.

She slipped along the back wall of the structure. Through a thicket of shrubs and overgrowth, she tried to keep her movement silent, though there was no one to hear but the bugs and spiders. She stepped onto the path leading from the back of the oversized building and inspected the wall, her hand running against the wood. No, not wood—metal. The framing, the blades of grass trampled and caught beneath the ground-level section—it all told her what she’d expected. This wasn’t a wall, but another garage door. But there seemed to be no way to get in. She looked down the trail, newly scarred by car tires. The winding dirt road must lead to the main street beyond.

Counting off each step, Nikki returned to the front of the garage then tucked inside. From the door she started counting again, suspicions confirmed. The garage was much deeper than the inside wall suggested. With her knuckles she rapped on the structure and listened as the echo floated and disappeared. Hollow.

Within minutes she found tiny scrapings of paint on the floor beside a large tool closet. Point of entry? If there was a hidden garage behind the known one, maybe there was a way to get inside separate from the outside door.

Nikki shoved the tool closet, but it wouldn’t budge. She went to the other side and inspected the scrapes. It definitely slid this way. Think like Vessler. She paced for a few minutes, avoiding the three sports cars and her Ducati. What tricks would he use? Nikki spun and returned to the side of the closet, but opened its door before pushing. The entire closet slid easily out of her way.

She entered a cavern of a room where a large vehicle took up much of the space. Should she risk leaving the door open? Someone could come in and catch her. Judging stealth was best, she reached through and closed the entryway, hoping there was a trigger from her side as well. Along a wall was another closet like the one she’d moved. She pulled it open and found a flashlight resting among three shelves of various handguns. All Vessler’s guns aren’t locked in the gun room inside the house. Interesting.

Vessler had taught her to shoot at his private firing range, offering her a mix of guns to practice with. When she spotted her favorite, she reached for it: a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum, with a corresponding box of hollow-point ammo. Her hand had paused over the Ruger Blackhawk, but no, too heavy. Then the Colt 1911. She loved its accuracy, but the Smith and Wesson felt more comfortable in her hand. She’d spent more time practicing with it than the others. And since the shot she may need to make was an important one, comfort factored in.

Nikki turned her attention to the vehicle, and as she looked at it her blood began a slow drain from her head to her feet. Nikki hugged her upper arms, handgun dangling beneath an elbow.

A yellow Hummer.

Mace had told her a yellow Hummer had been parked nearby the night the lab was on fire, and the man beside it had shot and killed the scientist she’d just resuscitated, missing her by mere inches.

This was the car of a murderer. And it sat in her godfather’s garage.

She should leave. Instead, she reached to the door handle and pulled open the driver’s side. She smirked at the discovery the keys were dangling from the ignition. Always so confident, so sure of yourself, aren’t you, Vessler? Had her godfather pulled the trigger on the scientist? She figured not. He had thugs to do his dirty work.

She slid into the driver’s seat and closed her eyes.

She could smell the guy, could taste in the blend of sweat and precision that this man was a professional. Deodorant barely masked the scent of stale flesh and old coffee that lingered. Nikki glanced down to the cup holder splattered with the brown evidence of an uncareful drinker.

She got out and climbed into the backseat. Nothing unusual. Her hand trailed along the edge of the seat, but still felt nothing out of the ordinary. Then she saw it, a darkened stain in the puckered corner where fabric met fabric. She had to press with her fingers to see it, but in the bright dash light, it was unmistakable. Dried blood.

Why should she be surprised? She’d already established this as a murderer’s car. But something about the blood cried out to her.

Nikki closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into the crease of the seat. Talk to me, she urged. All was still and quiet. When her father’s face flashed in her mind, she jolted. Nikki’s eyes flew open and she jerked her hand from the spot. The silence of the room closed in with fresh horror.

Pulse racing, she slowly reached toward the fabric again, hoping—praying—she’d imagined it. Her fingertips trembled as they approaching the stain. And again she saw her father’s face.

Her fingers closed into a fist, trying to capture the life that was no more. “No,” she whispered to the hollow room. It was a plea and a cry and a resolution. So this was it, proof they were truly gone. Dead. At the hands of the man who’d killed the scientist and who was parked in Damon Vessler’s garage. Sorrow turned to rage, its slow transformation burning away any innocence that remained.

She didn’t need to be told her eyes were darkening. She felt it. She was turning. Killing the killer would complete the change, she was sure, but she gave it little thought. If she’d been uncertain about what she’d do, now it was evident and the only thing she could do. Nikki would kill the man who’d killed her parents. Then she’d deal with Vessler.

She checked the gun’s safety and tucked it into the back of her jeans, gangster-movie style, but that felt completely uncomfortable, so she returned to the gun closet and searched. On the bottom shelf were a variety of holsters. Vessler had taught her how to shoot, how to handle a gun, but how to use a holster? No. She pulled a smaller one out and gripped the largest section upside down so the straps dangled below and offered a clue how it worked. Then she flipped it over and slid the shoulder harness into place. The gun fit nicely and she adjusted the straps for comfort. She pulled the gun from the holster and held it in her hand.

Nikki settled in to wait.

She heard movement outside and slid into the back of the car to hide beneath a wadded-up tarp. She couldn’t kill him here on Vessler’s property—too obvious—so she’d tag along and discover where murderers go late at night.

The man’s smell intensified as he got into the driver’s seat. Movement of keys, the motor’s rumbling, and soon they were bouncing along the hidden path. She wished she’d found something else to hide beneath or nothing at all. The tarp seemed to screech and moan every time she moved. Her leg and shoulder ached, but she didn’t dare readjust. Her side was screaming in protest of every pothole until the driver finally pulled onto the smooth street.

When Nikki heard his voice, she nearly screamed, until she realized he must have called someone. “Almost to the park.”

Then another voice filled the air. A familiar voice, muffled through the tarp and a phone speaker, but undoubtedly Vessler’s.

“Leave it in the bin in the center.”

“You sure you want me to follow through with this? This is a lot of cash. It’d be easy to just finish them.”

“No, I may need them later.” Vessler’s tone was clipped.

“A lot of good that will do if they flee the country,” the driver said.

“The money is marked. I’ll know everywhere they go.”

“So this is just insurance?”

“Exactly.”

“Why now?”

“Because the bird has left the nest. Obviously, they’ve been watching.” Vessler did nothing to disguise his frustration.

“But you weren’t worried at all when they disappeared, so you must have expected this.”

“What could they do without me? I’m their life.”

“Will you need me tomorrow to start the search for her?” The driver was reaching for something, Nikki could tell by the change in his voice. “Hold on a sec, gotta plug in my cell.”

Vessler released an aggravated sigh. “Tomorrow morning my shipment comes in at eight. I’ll call you after.”

“You need me to go along?”

“No. There’s no threat.”

“Okay. I just reached the park.”

Nikki felt the motor slow to an idle as the car rolled to a stop. If only she could breathe more silently. She prayed he wouldn’t shut the motor off completely, and someone up there must have been listening because the Hummer continued to rumble. Not that it was enough to allow her movement. Her left leg was asleep and stabbing her with tiny little needles. It masked the pain in her side. A glorious—albeit painful—reprieve.

“You’re sure you need them alive? I’ve got a great vantage point above the trash bin. It’d be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

“No.”

“I’ve got a new scope too. Need to try it out.”

She could feel the tension on the other end of the line as Vessler said, “No.”

The man rustled something on the seat beside him. It sounded like a trash bag.

When he got out and she heard his footsteps become faint, she felt relief. Now to get out of the car. Nikki peeked over the seats and carefully transferred the tarp to one side. He was almost halfway to the trash can and carrying a lumpy bag. She had to move fast and wasn’t sure how loud opening the rear door might be, so instead she clambered over the seats and slipped out of the driver’s door and into a patch of woods about fifty feet from the vehicle.

They hadn’t driven far. Once she did what she had to do, she’d walk back to the house on Pine Boulevard. She wouldn’t drive his car. You don’t kill a man then drive away in his vehicle.

Nikki took her station in a row of trees near the Hummer. She was a good shot, but not a perfect one, so she stayed close. Probably too close, but what did it matter? There was no going back. With the gun in her hand and the safety off, she sat patiently.

Once he’d dropped the bag into the bin below, he started back up the incline to the Hummer, which was still running, lights shimmering on a row of trees across the park.

As he approached her position, he slowed his pace and stopped to face the trees, and her. Keen eyes, one with a teardrop tattooed beneath, scanned the ground around her. Nikki closed one eye and took aim, hand shaking.