The Warrior (6 page)

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Alicia didn't know she was crying until she tasted the salt of her own tears. Angrily, she swiped at them with the back of her hand. “What I do is no longer any of your concern.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then one last question. “Alicia.”

“What?”

“Are you going to tell?”

Alicia disconnected, threw the phone down in the seat and pulled back out onto the highway, still heading for Justice.

 

Richard's heart was hammering so hard he couldn't catch his breath. How had this happened? They'd always been so careful. He shoved a hand through his hair and then covered his face with both hands as his mind began to race through the possibilities of what might happen next.

She wouldn't tell. She was his daughter—his own flesh and blood. Surely she wouldn't turn in her own father? But he couldn't be sure. She'd sounded so angry. He'd never heard her like that before. So…what next? Sit here and wait for the hammer to fall on his carefully balanced empire—or take back control?

Shock was soon replaced with anger. There had been dozens of times throughout his life when he'd felt as if
he'd been here before, in another time and place. faced with ruin through the behavior of others. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized he wasn't going to sit back and let her destroy everything he'd built. He would get her back first, then figure out what came next.

He reached for the phone and quickly dialed Dieter Bahn's number. By the time the other man answered, Richard was completely calm.

“It's me,” Richard said. “How close are you to Alicia's location?”

“Less than five miles, I think,” Dieter said.

“When you find her, bring her back…even if you have to tie her up to do it. Do you understand?”

Dieter was the kind of man whose loyalty to the man who paid his salary ran bone-deep.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

“And, Dieter…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Let me know when you have her in the car.”

“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

Without even bothering to say goodbye, Richard ended the call. Then he stood up and moved to the windows overlooking his estate, the seat of his empire. If things went wrong, he could lose all of this tomorrow. But that wasn't going to happen. Things wouldn't go wrong. Dieter would get Alicia, and then…

He paused, jangling the change in his pocket without thinking. What was he going to do with his daughter when he got her back? How could he keep her quiet? What assurance did he have that she would keep his secret? He sighed.

He had no assurance. None.

He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the window, then yanked his hands out of his pockets and quickly looked away. He'd worked too hard and too long to be brought down by anyone—even his own daughter. If she didn't comply…

A muscle suddenly jerked at his temple as the thought slid through his mind. Then it would be too damned bad for her. Accidents happen.

 

John Nightwalker was in his Jeep and heading out of Justice. The sun was warm on his face, even though his eyes were well-hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses as he drove down Main Street. Someone yelled out his name, and he waved before he looked.

It was Mildred, the pharmacy clerk. She'd tried to hook him up with her daughter for the last two years until, thankfully, her daughter had eloped with one of the Samson brothers, who had a roofing business in a nearby town. When Mildred figured out that having a son-in-law who owned his own business was better than a man with secrets, she'd let him be.

He braked for a red light while the wind whipping through the open windows tugged at his hair like the fingers of a jealous lover. His hands, brown and strong, curled around the steering wheel as they'd once curled around the shaft of a spear. Time had not taken the warrior out of the man—only increased it. As he neared the city limits, he glanced down at the gas gauge. Better fuel up now and get it over with, even though the day was hot. He had milk and eggs in the backseat, as well as some fresh vegetables, but a quick fuel stop shouldn't hurt anything.

He pulled up to an empty pump at Marv's Gas and Guzzle, waved at a local who was pulling away and got out. He swiped his credit card at the pump just as he'd done countless times before, then began to refuel. It was a slow time of day. There was only one other vehicle in sight, and it had two flats, which told John it had been there for a while.

A flock of gulls circled overhead, probably checking out the fish heads behind the bait-and-tackle area of Marv's store. He thought about the ocean and decided that when he got home, he would go for a swim. Water was always a source of renewal for him.

The pump kicked off, breaking into his musing. He was replacing the hose when a white BMW wheeled off the highway, coming toward the pumps at a high rate of speed. He stepped back in reflex, even though the car was going to be stopping on the opposite side from where he'd parked.

All of a sudden his heart started beating erratically and his stomach knotted in pain. The air around him felt charged with an electricity that, in the last five hundred years, he'd experienced only a handful of times before.

Whoever was in that car was either the reincarnated soul of the pirate he'd learned was named Antonio Vargas or someone close to him. His fingers curled into fists as a dark, bloody rage swept through his mind. Suddenly he was seeing the village all over again—puddles of blood beneath rain-soaked bodies, children's bodies burned and broken, clothing ripped and ornaments cut from the corpses of his people.

The need for revenge swept through his mind so fast that he staggered. Then he caught a glimpse of a tall,
shapely body, the silhouette of a beautiful face, hair as black as midnight, and knew a moment of regret. What an irony, that the soul he sought had come back in such a form.

Then their gazes met, and within the space of a heartbeat, all the warning signs John had come to recognize were gone and he knew this wasn't the person he sought, although there had to be a connection.

Her face was heart-shaped, her features strong but perfectly proportioned. Full lips marked a wide, expressive mouth that was, at the moment, twisted in some sort of grief. When his gaze moved back to her eyes, he felt himself drowning in the tears blurring her vision.

Pain shot through his gut so fast it left him momentarily breathless. He hated to see a woman cry. They stared at each other, eye to eye, separated by less than a yard. Finally John found his voice.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

Alicia shuddered. His voice sifted through her wounded spirit like cold water on a burn, easing the shock and pain of what she was feeling, if only for a moment.

“No…I, uh…” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks and then threw back her head, unaware that the simple lift of her chin had given her the look of an able opponent, not a victim. “Crap,” she mumbled, her fingers shaking as she tried to pull the nozzle away from the pump. “I need gas.”

Not wanting to lose the connection with her, John moved a step closer.

“Swipe your card. I'll pump it for you,” he offered.

But Alicia knew that credit card transactions could be traced, and since the last thing she wanted was to let
her father know where she was, she hadn't even brought a card with her.

“Uh…I'm going to pay cash.”

John pointed toward the sign at the pumps. “Then thank the economy for the problem, but they won't turn on the pump until you've prepaid.”

“Yes…of course,” Alicia said, and tried to put the nozzle back on the pump. But her vision was still blurred from tears, and she kept missing the slot.

“Here, let me,” he said softly, then swiped his own card, waited for the approval to come up, then stuck the nozzle in her gas tank.

Alicia took a deep breath. When the stranger moved between her and her car, she suddenly shuddered. In spite of the mess she was in, she didn't understand the urge she felt to put her hand on the back of his neck. Instead, she began digging through her purse, pulled out a handful of bills and then found herself fixated by a single bead of sweat that had escaped his hairline and was sliding down the jut of his jaw.

Her nostrils flared as the thought of being naked under this man flashed through her mind.

God.
Where had that come from?

When the man turned around, Alicia thought that from the look in his eyes, he was on the same page.

“Thank you for your help,” she said, and thrust the handful of bills into his hand.

Before John could respond, another car pulled off the highway and up to the pumps, coming to a stop right behind the woman. He saw her eyes widen and her pupils dilated in shock.

“Oh no. Oh God…He found me.”

J
ohn didn't know who the man was, other than a big bald bodybuilder, but the woman was obviously afraid of him. He made a point of never involving himself in marital discord, but there was no way he was going to lose track of her until he figured out how she fit into the puzzle of the soul he sought. He replaced the nozzle and stepped back to watch from between the pumps as the man continued to approach.

“Get away from me, Dieter,” Alicia warned.

Dieter paused, smiling openly as if to say this was out of his hands.

“Come, come, Alicia, your father wants you to come home.”

“How did you find me?” she asked.

Dieter shrugged. “GPS.”

Alicia's lips went slack. “You're not serious. Dad has a tracking device on my car?”

“They're on all his cars,” Dieter said. “I would have thought you'd known that.”

“It's obvious I don't know him nearly as well as I thought I did,” she muttered.

Dieter took a step closer. “So you'll come with me now?”

Alicia's pulse skipped as she took a nervous step back. “I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Oh, but you are,” Dieter said, and lunged, only to find himself suddenly face-to-face with a man who'd come out of nowhere.

Dieter frowned, then looked at Alicia. “Who is this? Is he with you?”

John answered, “Who I am is not what you should be worrying about. I heard the lady tell you to back off at least twice, and you're not paying attention.”

Dieter jabbed a finger at John, poking him in the chest. “You aren't part of the equation,” he said. “I take my orders from her father, and he wants her home.”

When John grabbed the finger and twisted it backward, it sent a shooting pain up Dieter's arm all the way to the back of his jaw. Even worse, it somehow rendered him immobile, and he didn't know why.

“Ow! Shit! Let me go. Let me
go!”
he yelled.

But John continued to maintain pressure as he addressed Alicia. “I take it this man isn't your husband?”

Alicia's voice was shaking. “No, he works for my father.”

“Did you do something illegal?” John asked.

Alicia rolled her eyes. “No.”

“You're not wanted by the police?”

“No. Lord, no.”

“I'm assuming you're of legal age.”

Alicia stifled a snort, which John interpreted as a yes.

“Then I'd say you're free to do what you want.”

Alicia's eyes filled with tears all over again.

“I'll never be free again,” she said, more to herself than to John, but he heard it and knew her peril was working to his advantage.

John looked back at Dieter, whose face was turning paler by the minute.

“Are you going to keep following her?”

“It's my job,” Dieter moaned, still trying to figure out why he felt numb all over.

“Then I guess she'll need a head start,” John said, then grabbed Dieter's neck with his other hand and squeezed. Dieter dropped between the car and the gas pump like a stone.

Alicia shuddered. What had just happened? “I need to hide,” she mumbled, still staring at Dieter's body.

“Why are you afraid of your father?”

She wiped her hands across her face. “This is a nightmare. Please…I need to get another car and get to a place where he can't find me until I can figure all this out.”

John exhaled softly. Bingo. Right into his lap.

“I can help.”

Alicia swayed where she stood, then looked up. His eyes were so dark that she couldn't see the pupils. She shivered. She didn't know this man from Adam. He could be a serial killer, a sadist—anything. Then she asked herself: Was her father any different? Should she trust the devil she knew or the devil she didn't?

John felt her pulling away. He had to act fast.

“My name is John Nightwalker. I live about fifteen miles from here, and as you can see, I have a car. You'll
have to leave your car here anyway, and I'll help you all I can. Just tell me what you need.”

Alicia saw his lips moving, but she'd lost track of his words as soon as he'd said his name. The skin was still crawling on the back of her neck, and she had the strangest urge to cry.

“So…what do you say?” John asked.

Alicia blinked. “Um…I, uh…”

“You can trust me,” he said.

Somehow she knew he was telling the truth.

“Yes, okay.”

John's pulse skittered, then settled. Was this it? Was this the beginning of the end of his search?

“Better get your things out of your car,” he said.

“What about him?” she asked, pointing to Dieter.

“I'll take care of that,” he said.

She hurried to get her suitcase. When she turned around, John was pulling a six-pack of beer out of his Jeep. He popped the top of a can and forced Dieter's lips far enough apart to pour the tepid amber liquid down his throat. At that point Dieter coughed and came to, hacking and spitting. John helped him up, opened the door to Dieter's car, then squeezed the same nerve on his neck that he'd squeezed before and once again rendered him unconscious.

John grunted softly as he maneuvered the other man into the driver's seat. Once he had Dieter behind the wheel, he poured the contents of two more cans of beer onto his clothes and then onto the seat, tossed the rest of the six-pack onto the floorboard, then stepped back and shut the door. To the observer, Dieter would now appear to be drunk and passed out in his car.

John turned toward Alicia. “Get in,” he said as he took the suitcase out of her hands and put it in the backseat.

Alicia took a deep breath and looked back down the road on which she'd been traveling. She knew what was behind her. Time to take a chance on what was ahead. Then she looked at John, exhaled slowly and scooted into the passenger seat as John slid behind the wheel.

“Buckle up,” he said, and pulled out onto the highway.

She began fumbling with the seat belt as he picked up his cell phone and punched in a number.

“Police. Whatcha need?”

“Hi, Carl, it's John Nightwalker. I want to report a situation at Marv's Gas and Guzzle. There's an abandoned car at one pump and a drunk passed out in the car behind it. Someone needs to get those two cars towed out of the way so people can get gas when they need it.”

“Is the drunk a local?” Carl asked.

“Nope. Out-of-state license. Don't know anything more.”

“Figures,” Carl said. “I'll get someone down there right now. Thanks for calling.”

“No problem,” John said. There was a glint in his eye as he disconnected.

“Thank you,” Alicia said.

John nodded.

At that point, the silence inside the Jeep became uncomfortable. What on earth had she just done? Alicia wondered, realizing how completely she'd given herself over to this man. All she could do was pray she hadn't put herself into a more dire situation than the one she'd been running from.

“I won't hurt you,” John said, then turned and caught her staring. Once again, he looked straight into her eyes.

It was a fleeting look, but there was something in it that Alicia found comforting. A second or so later, he turned his attention back to the road, but it was enough for her to relax.

She shivered slightly, then leaned back against the seat as the wind whipped through the windows, putting her long dark hair in disarray. But her appearance was the last thing on her mind. For the first time since she'd starting running, she felt as if she was at least partially in control. Maybe this nightmare was going to have a positive outcome after all.

 

Richard waited for the phone call from Dieter telling him that he had Alicia and was on the way home, but it never came. He left a scathing message on Dieter's cell, then left to attend a business dinner, confident that everything was under control and his subordinate was just off the radar for some reason.

Dieter, however, was not as certain. Waking up in jail was the single biggest shock of his life. He'd been in jail before, but he'd always seen it coming. This time, he had no idea how or when—or why—it had happened. He swung his legs off the bunk, swiped his hands across his face, then stumbled to the bars, rattling them to emphasize his demand.

“Hey!” he yelled, then winced. Yelling made his head ache. “Jailer! Jailer! I need to make a phone call. It's my right. I get to make a call.”

A few moments later, the door across the aisle opened and a tall scrawny man in a khaki uniform saun
tered in. Dieter stared. The man was rail-thin with a hawk nose and a big bushy mustache.

“What?” the man drawled.

“I get to make a call! Bring me my cell phone.”

The jailer shrugged. “You use our phone and reverse the charges…understand?”

“I don't understand anything,” Dieter muttered. “How did I get here?”

“Hauled your drunk ass in, that's how.”

Dieter frowned. He hadn't been drinking. He'd been—“Oh hell,” he muttered. Alicia. The big Indian. Richard was going to kill him.

“Here's the phone,” the jailer said as he thrust a cordless headset through the bars. “Make it quick.”

“Where am I?” Dieter asked, realizing he didn't even know the address of the jail.

“You're in jail, mister,” the jailer said dryly.

Dieter cursed beneath his breath. “Very funny. What's the
name
of this godforsaken place?”

“You're in Justice, Georgia, and I hope the irony of that is not lost on you.”

Dieter glared. “I need privacy.”

“Tough shit. You get one call, and I'm not going anywhere.”

As Dieter punched in the number, it occurred to him that he was probably safer in jail. At least here, Richard would have a harder time killing him. However, Richard didn't answer the call, and Dieter was forced to leave a message.

“Mr. Ponte, it's Dieter. I'm in Justice, Georgia…in jail. I caught up with Alicia at a gas station, but she wasn't alone. She had someone with her who knocked
me out. I'm not sure how I got from there to jail, but I need someone to bail me out.”

As soon as he'd disconnected, he handed the phone back through the bars. The jailer took it, smirked and slammed the door behind him when he left.

Dieter dropped back down on the bunk, then put his head in his hands and groaned. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

 

Alicia was accustomed to the best. The best cars. The best clothes. The best of everything money could buy. So when John Nightwalker said he was taking her to his place, she didn't expect to find much of a house at the end of this road through nowhere, but to say this exceeded her expectations was an epic understatement. His home was a magnificent edifice of wood, rock and glass that appeared to have grown from the very bluff on which it was sitting.

The front of the house faced the driveway, which left the back to overlook the ocean. She could see all the way through the soaring front windows to two stories of glass at the back that seemed to go on forever—disappearing up and into the startling blue of the sky overhead. The panorama they would reveal up close had to be amazing.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. The beauty of it was obvious, but it was the loneliness she sensed along with that beauty that brought tears to her eyes.

She got out without speaking and walked toward the rim of the bluff, mesmerized by the view beyond. But the longer she stood there, the more she felt he hadn't built here for the view. As she looked around the area, she
realized that from where she stood, it would be impossible for anyone to get to him without being seen. She couldn't help but wonder what demons John Nightwalker watched for when he looked through those windows.

“Welcome to my home,” John said.

Alicia couldn't find the words to answer. She just nodded, then turned around and followed him back to the car, picking up her suitcase as he took the groceries and led the way inside.

John was so wired he could hardly focus. After centuries of waiting for this day, it was the closest he'd ever been. Only once before had he been so near. But that had been ages ago, on a train running through Central Europe. That day he'd known, as surely as he knew his own name, that the man he sought was only a few cars away. He'd felt the rhythm of his heartbeat as the pain of recognition spilled through him. He'd been running through the cars, searching for the person who held the key to all he sought, when a hard jolt sent everyone flying out of their seats, followed by the sounds of buckling metal and steam spewing into the air as the train derailed violently. He woke up some time later to the sound of people screaming and a horrible emptiness that meant one thing: the gut-wrenching knowledge that whoever it was he'd been after was dead, but not by John's hand.