Surrender to Darkness (35 page)

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Authors: Annette McCleave

BOOK: Surrender to Darkness
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“No red sparks,” Murdoch confirmed. “The body vanished, but that might have something to do with the runes on his flesh.”
Emily smiled at him. “Good job, Murdoch.”
“Thanks, lass.” His return smile faded. “As for the task you set me to, I wasn’t able to twist Stefan’s arm with that package. By the time I got back down the hill, it was gone.”
“He snuck out of the trailer and picked it up while you were fighting for your life with a demon?” she asked, scandalized.
“So it would seem.”
“What the hell’s got into the guy?” Webster asked, looking at MacGregor. “He’s gone right off the deep end. Can’t you talk some sense into him?”
Lena and Kiyoko entered the house, both wearing a gi and sporting sweaty hair. Kiyoko was guzzling bottled water, her head tipped back and her throat working with each swallow. Murdoch couldn’t take his eyes off her.
MacGregor stood. “I can try. But right now I’ve got a date with a wee lass and a diaper.”
Lena snorted as she grabbed a chicken wing. “I’ve never seen a man look quite so pleased about that chore.”
“Good men excel at even the most unpleasant deeds.” He smiled at her. “I’ll bring Katie over to the house for a viewing in the morning.”
The female Soul Gatherer’s normally crisp expression softened a little. “A baby in a house full of warriors. That should be interesting.”
“I’ll come home after I clean the kitchen,” Emily told her stepfather.
MacGregor nodded and left.
Lena had a wistful look on her face. Webster tugged her away from the chicken wings and against his chest. He didn’t say anything, just held her, displaying more empathy than Murdoch would have given him credit for possessing.
“I’m going to retire for the night,” Kiyoko said from the doorway. “It’s been a long day.”
Murdoch scrambled to his feet. “I’ll walk you upstairs.”
“That’s hardly necessary,” she said.
“Actually, it is,” he said drily. “I’ve got something I need to tell you about Ryuji Watanabe.”
 
Kiyoko spent most of Sunday on the phone with the board of directors, dealing with Ryuji’s disappearance. The “official” story was that he’d gone out for a bike ride and never returned. She’d even called in the police to support the tale.
The police officer had berated them for allowing him to ride off on his own, but had accepted the story.
The company had a succession plan in place, but losing two top executives in a matter of months had hit hard. The choices for an interim president were not stellar. In the end, the board settled on the head of the manufacturing division, a solid man with a good reputation. But no Ryuji Watanabe. The options would have been better if the board had been seeking a permanent replacement. With the recent rash of failed companies, there were a number of excellent prospects to approach. But there was still hope that Ryuji would reappear and the board acted accordingly.
By the time Kiyoko got off the phone, the ranch house front yard was a hive of activity. New trainees mingled with the old, bags and suitcases littered the lawn, and the oily exhaust of bus engines filled the air. Murdoch shook hands with Quinn and the others, then rounded up the new batch of trainees with an authoritative command. A larger group than the last. Sixty-three men and nine women.
“Did you tell him?” Sora asked as they watched Quinn’s van depart for the airport. The cocky Irishman waved to Kiyoko from the backseat.
“No.”
“Do you intend to?”
She leaned against the porch beam and stared up at the twilight sky. “He will not endorse the idea.”
“Perhaps not. But we need his help.”
“Yes, we do.” The only star visible at this early-evening hour was Polaris. A lone twinkle in the heavens. “Do you think Ryuji Watanabe was a lie from the beginning? That my father was fooled from day one?”
Sora’s gaze followed hers. “I cannot imagine a demon having patience enough to play the part for over a year,” he said.
She agreed. Which meant a good man had been murdered—probably several months ago—and they had failed to mourn his passing. And it meant she had given her trust to a demon. Perhaps even fed him valuable information. The notion made her stomach heave. “My father was carrying the Veil the day he died. Ryuji-san was the first to arrive in the garage after the attack.”
“You suspect it was he who battled your father?”
Kiyoko nodded. “But why not kill us both that night? Why spare me and leave the Veil behind?”
“Perhaps a simple case of exhaustion? The battle with your father would have taxed the demon greatly. Tatsu-san was a formidable warrior. If the real Watanabe-san entered the garage as the battle was ending, it would have been forced to slay him as well.”
“That might explain why I survived the initial attack, but not why I am still here. Why did it not kill me the moment it recuperated?”
Sora scratched his chin. “A valid question.”
“We’re missing something.”
The door to the bunkhouse rattled shut, and she looked up. Having settled his brood in their quarters, Murdoch strode across the lawn toward the house, ignoring the path in favor of the shortest route. He wore a gray long-sleeved T-shirt and his typical black jeans, and his hair hung down his back in a riot of dark waves. Except for those few slightly shorter locks that teased the sides of his face. The ones he shoved away with a careless hand but kept returning to torment him.
It was remarkably easy to imagine him in chain mail. Urging a mighty steed into battle. Mowing down the enemy with his blade, delivering swift, sure justice.
“Does anyone have a pair of tweezers?” he said as he bounded up the two steps onto the porch. “I have a sliver.”
Kiyoko’s lips twitched.
Or not.
She straightened. “I have one in my purse.”
He nodded politely to Sora, then followed her into the house and up to the second floor. “Did you get everything straightened out with the board?”
“As best I could,” she said. She pointed him to the chair by the window, then dug into her purse on the dresser.
“How long before they accept that he’s gone?”
“I don’t know.” She tossed him the tweezers. “It’s not a common occurrence, misplacing your president.”
Head bowed to his task, Murdoch didn’t respond right away. He struggled with the tweezers, made an attempt to grab the offending piece of wood embedded in his skin, then lost the tool when it sprang from his fingertips.
“Bloody hell.”
Kiyoko retrieved the tweezers from the floor. “The sliver’s in your right hand?”
“Aye.” He glanced up. “I don’t suppose you could take it out?”
Her brows soared. “Without touching you? I doubt it.”
His dark gaze firmed on her face, and she knew where his thoughts had gone. To the hot, delicious gropings that filled his dreams. Just like hers had. “Technically, only the tweezers need to touch me.”
“It would be too risky. One slip and—”
“I’ll make certain we don’t touch,” he said.
It was an absolutely crazy idea. The very epitome of playing with fire. But her pulse raced at the notion of being so close to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.
“All right.”
She perched on the edge of the window seat and leaned over his hand. A dart of wood had buried itself deep in the pad of his thumb. But no matter how she angled the tweezers or how she twisted her body, she couldn’t quite grip the sliver.
He opened his legs and nodded at the floor. “Sit here.”
Her breath caught.
There? Between his thighs? Resting against that smooth-worn denim, grazing the inside of those heavy muscles as she worked? Was he determined to drive them both to the brink of sanity? Or was he purposely pushing himself, taunting himself, testing his ability to resist her?
She sank to her knees on the hardwood.
If he developed the strength to turn her away, her plans for tomorrow would fail. To unleash the berserker, she’d have to convince him to kiss her …
seduce
him into breaking his vow. What better place to start than right here?
On her knees, her bottom lip caught artfully in her teeth, she advanced into the vee of his thighs. She paused there, her breasts scant inches from his legs, and released the now swollen lip. To her delight, he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Extend your hand,” she said.
He did.
She turned around, leaned back against his pelvis, and tucked his arm tight against her body using her elbow. His hand was now perfectly positioned to work on.
Except that it was trembling.
In fact, his whole body was shuddering.
“Hold still,” she said with a grin. “I’ll be very gentle, I promise.”
“I don’t give a damn if you’re gentle,” he said hoarsely. “Just be quick.”
She bent over his hand. “Got it.” She held up the tweezers for verification, then released his arm. “I’d kiss the wound better, but …”
“No kissing,” he finished for her, on a ragged sigh.
She scooted back to the window seat and lifted her gaze to meet his. “No kissing,” she confirmed.
He scowled and jabbed his thumb in his mouth.
“Are you done for the evening?” she asked. “Or do you have more work with the trainees?”
“I need to track down some extra practice weapons,” he mumbled. “Why?”
“I wanted to discuss tomorrow.”
A wary look replaced the disgruntled expression on his face. “What about tomorrow?”
“I’m going to attempt the transcendence.”
He shot out of the chair, his wounded thumb forgotten. “No, you’re not. We discussed this. I am going to work on Stefan, and you’re going to be patient. We have a month.”
Kiyoko studied her hands. A more ruthless person would have kept silent, seduced the man, and accomplished her goal. But she was done with lying and hiding. She needed Murdoch to understand, and to willingly offer his help.
“Azazel knew about the Veil.”
“You
told
him?”
Her head popped up at Murdoch’s angry accusation. “No, of course not. Watanabe was there the night my father died, and now that I know he was a demon, I can’t believe it was a coincidence.”
He paced the room, from the foot of the bed to the fireplace, his hands fisted at his sides. “That’s still no reason to go off half-cocked. I killed the filthy bugger.”
“You can’t really believe that’s the end of it.”
“As long as you remain on the ranch, everything will be fine,” he insisted. “We can keep the Veil hidden.”
“Murdoch,” she said softly, “I’ve corrupted you.”
He halted and stared at her. “What?”
“When we first met, your commitment to keeping the Veil out of Satan’s hands was vocal and passionate. Today you’re willing to invite unmitigated disaster to minimize the risk to a single woman. All because I’ve personified the consequences.”
“That’s quite a turnabout. From devoted demon slayer to weak-willed herald of the apocalypse in less than a month,” he said drily.
Kiyoko flushed. She hadn’t meant to insult him. “You know the only way to ensure the Veil’s safety is to hide it away, buried beneath layers of magic and protected for eternity by immortal warriors.”
“I don’t deny that.”
“Then don’t deny my opportunity to do what’s right, either. Once I transcend, I’ll be able to give up the Veil. If you fear harming me, perhaps we can restrain you for the duration of the ritual.”
He snorted. “You think I haven’t tried crating the beast in the past? I can tell you, a locked door is pointless. Chains won’t hold me. Hell, I’ve even broken out of a jail cell.”
Not terribly surprising. She’d witnessed the enhancement of the muscles in his back and felt the post-berserker weight of his body. “Sora-sensei says a binding spell won’t work, either. Any magic I cast to hold you in will also serve to keep me out.” She sighed. “The best hope still lies with you.”
“No,” he said, turning his back on the plea in her eyes. “The best hope lies with Stefan Wahlberg. And by God, I’m going to make the man see reason.”
He yanked open the bedroom door and stalked out.
Kiyoko listened to his footsteps pound down the stairs and the front door creak open and slam shut. A moment later, his large and very determined body appeared around the corner of the house and strode down the gravel path. Murdoch was a force to be reckoned with. He might yet succeed in browbeating Stefan and ending this painful trial.
But what if he failed?
Could she do what needed to be done?
Could she go ahead with her plan anyway?

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