Touched by Darkness (31 page)

porcelain skin.

"I'll bet."

A smile tugged her lips. "You're such a guy."

"So you noticed."

She turned and punched him lightly in the arm.

"You actually have a sense of humor. Hard to tell,

though, with all that macho attitude and

testosterone swirling around you."

She became pensive again. "Richard rarely

laughed. He was so serious all the time. Alex is so

much like him. I wish Richard had lived to see his

son."

"Unfortunately, being a Sentinel is a very

dangerous occupation. Which is why I don't get

involved with anyone." Now why the hell had he

said that?

"Sometimes it's worth the risk," she said quietly. "I

wouldn't trade what I had with Richard for

anything. I'd do it all over again, even those last

moments—"

Hearing the catch in her voice, he glanced over at

her, but she was staring out at the road again. "Must

have been tough."

She blinked rapidly. "It was horrible. But now I

have Alex. And I have some wonderful memories."

Sometimes the horrors overrode the good

memories,
he thought.

They made the rest of the drive back to Zorro with

very little conversation, He dropped her off at her

office, over her protest that she needed to get her

truck. "I'll pick you up when you're ready," he told

her. "Just call my cell phone."

"I can drive myself. Besides, people will start to

talk if they see you chauffeuring me around."

"And they're not going to talk when they see my

car parked at your house all night?"

"They most definitely will," she said. "We'll

become the center of town gossip. With Alex safe

now, there's no reason you can't return to the

Magnolia Bed-and-Breakfast."

"That's not an option. I can't—and won't—take the

chance that the Belian might have identified Alex.

Not to mention that, as the town's resident stranger,

I'm automatically suspect, and we've already been

seen together. I'm not going to risk anything

happening to you."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, that's right, then you

wouldn't have a conductor."

He felt a flare of unidentifiable emotion from her,

but before he could respond, she said, "I'm sorry.

I'm tired, and I miss my son, and I'm more than a

little scared. I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

"Like I said, it goes with the territory. Do you have

your gun with you?"

"No. I don't have a permit to carry it yet."

"That's right. Damn. I'll get you some police-grade

pepper spray. You can keep that in your lab coat

pocket."

"That will barely slow down a Belian, as you keep

pointing out."

"It will cause any human body to react and cough

and gag. That will buy you some time to escape."

"All right." She jerked open the car door, obviously

unsettled.

"Call me when you're ready to leave. I won't be far.

And Kara, be very careful."

She turned to look at him. "The same goes for you

Sentinel. Watch your back out there."

Her concern shouldn't have mattered to him... but it

did.

#

That evening, Kara brought home a stack of lab test

results she said she needed to read before they were

filed. She also brought medical files on her patients

with serious health problems, as Damien had

requested. They sat at the dining room table and

went over the files.

There was Belle Williams with her breast cancer;

Sal with his heart condition; Katie Woodward, an

ovarian cancer survivor; Mary Roberts, who was

battling lung cancer; and Police Chief Tom Greer,

who'd had prostate cancer. There were also fifteen

other patients whose names Damien didn't know,

but would be checking out. And there was one

surprise: Luz, who had severe asthma, and had to

carry an inhaler with her at all times.

He tapped Luz's file. "This is very interesting."

Kara's eyes were troubled. "I brought Luz's records

because you requested all those with ongoing

serious medical conditions. But she's not the

Belian. I can't believe that."

"The Belian could be
anyone,"
Damien said.

"They're very adept at hiding their true natures."

"But surely Luz would have picked up on Alex

before now. He's had to be broadcasting from time

to time."

"Maybe. But the Belian might not pick up on it if it

wasn't consciously tuning in."

"I don't even want to consider the possibility." Kara

closed the file and tossed it onto the pile. "At least

not tonight. I'm too tired to think straight. And I

still have to read those lab reports. I've been leaving

the office early, and going in late, and I'm getting

behind."

"I want to look through these records again,"

Damien said, pulling the stack over. "We might

have missed something."

He studied the files, while Kara perused lab reports

and initialed them and made notes on a legal

yellow pad about the patients she needed to call.

After a while, his stomach started demanding food.

"I think I'll putter around in the kitchen and see

what there is to eat."

"Good luck finding anything," she said absently,

her brow creasing as she studied a report. "That

cholesterol level is way too high. I'll have to call

Bill Donovan tomorrow."

Her concentration appeared formidable, and it was

matched by an impressive intelligence. Damien left

her to it and went to the kitchen. Mac, apparently

having decided he was a friend rather than a foe,

followed him and settled by the back door,

watching expectantly.

Damien found a well-stocked pantry and fridge,

probably thanks to Luz. He also found leftovers in

the fridge—a chicken and tomato sauce dish that

looked very similar to the Chicken Cacciatore his

father used to make, and tossed green salad. In the

pantry, he found rice and packaged dinner rolls. He

got to work heating up the chicken and rolls and

cooking rice.

It felt strange to be preparing a meal for more than

one. He often stayed in hotel suites where he had a

microwave and fridge, so he was used to putting

together informal meals. But Kara's bright, homey

kitchen carried him back to his parents' big blue-

and-white kitchen in Syracuse, New York, and

resurrected memories of helping his father prepare

family meals—and with them, emotions best left

buried.

He didn't know why the memories were so vivid,

because they were from over thirty years ago, and

because he'd managed to keep them obscured, for

the most part, until now. Maybe it was the

surprising punch of nostalgia, or the cozy kitchen,

or the easy familiarity of Kara working in the other

room—as if they were a family unit—but he felt

more at home here than he'd felt anywhere since his

parents' deaths.

After they'd died, the family duplex in Syracuse

had been sold, and he'd been sent to live with his

newly appointed Sentinel mentor. He'd gone from a

warm and loving family environment to a sterile,

utilitarian condominium and a man who had no

experience with ten-year-old boys, especially one

who was inconsolable with grief.

All of that was in the past, Damien told himself

firmly, and every event had a reason, was a part of

the Divine plan. He was right where he was

supposed to be, and his focus needed to be solely

on tracking and dispensing the Belian. Nothing

more, and certainly no emotional involvement.

Resolute, he pulled the chicken and rolls from the

oven and took the rice off the stove. He got out the

salad and some salad dressings, put everything on

the kitchen table that he had set with plates and

silverware, and poured iced tea, which was served

year-round in Texas.

"Kara," he called out, heading for the dining room.

"Dinner's ready. Prepare to be impressed by my

culinary abilities—" He stopped, seeing her

slumped over the table, her pen still clutched in her

hand.

A soft snore verified she was asleep. He gently

shook her shoulder. "Kara, wake up. The food is

ready."

She didn't move. He knew she was exhausted, and

maybe rest was more important than food right

now. Pulling her chair back, he lifted her up. She

settled against him with an incoherent murmur. Her

breath was warm on his chest, and her musky,

feminine scent wafted upward, assailing his senses.

The peach silk blouse she wore gaped away from

her chest, revealing the lacy low-cut bra she wore

beneath it. A dainty gold locket on a delicate chain

was nestled between her breasts, which swelled

enticingly above the cups. He knew from last night

that her smooth skin would be soft and warm

beneath his fingers, her breasts exquisitely

sensitive.

Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply. Damn, she

smelled good. His body hardened in reaction,

causing him to suck in another breath. Even as he

told himself he shouldn't let his libido get the better

of him, he was remembering how Kara's lithe body

had responded last night.
Cut it out,
he ordered

himself.

As he turned to carry her to her bedroom, he was

struck with the sudden image of his father carrying

his mother. He'd only seen that once, when his

parents thought he was asleep. He'd come quietly

from his room, hoping to sneak a snack from the

kitchen, and he'd seen his father carrying his

mother to their bedroom. Even though he'd only

been eight at the time, he'd noticed the incredible

tenderness and caring between his parents, seen the

way his father held his mother as if she were a

precious treasure, and how her head rested against

his shoulder.

His Sentinel mother had been far stronger than his

human father, and could have carried
him
ten miles

without breaking a sweat. Yet his father had always

been protective toward her—even though it

ultimately got him killed.

Just another reminder of a past that was long gone.

Damien strode to Kara's bedroom, mentally

opening the door. She murmured again when he

placed her on the bed and slipped off her shoes. Her

toenails were painted a glossy red, a feminine touch

that sent another punch of desire through him.

Damn, he definitely needed to get laid—but that

required a willing party.

Determinedly he pulled the comforter and bedding

from beneath her, and resettled it over her. She

curled onto her side and sighed. Her auburn hair

fanned over the pillow like flowing silk. She

looked vulnerable and innocent—and sexy as hell.

And very human, Damien reminded himself. Off

limits, except for conductions—and that was

another murky issue.

He headed to the kitchen, where he and Mac would

share dinner and celebrate their bachelorhood.

Then, if the lust ravaging his body hadn't abated,

he'd take another cold shower.

#

The next morning, Kara stepped out of examining

room three and walked into the nearby nurse's

alcove to make a few notes on Betty Libby's chart.

Mrs. Libby was the grandmother of one of Alex's

soccer buddies, and was often at soccer games.

Seeing the elderly lady had nudged Kara's thoughts

of Alex into even higher gear. He'd only been gone

one day, and she missed him terribly.

"Dr. Kara? Are you at the nurse's station?" came

Bonnie's voice over the intercom. The receptionist

had an amazing sixth sense when it came to

knowing where Kara was at all times.

"You tracked me down, as usual."

"Chief Greer is on the phone. Line one."

Kara didn't think any phone call from Tom Greer

could be good. She strode to her office, fingering

the small metal cylinder in the pocket of her white

coat. Pepper spray, courtesy of Damien. She'd gone

outside early this morning and practiced the correct

way to hold it, flip up the plastic shield, and

discharge it. She just hoped an innocent patient

didn't make a wrong move; her nerves were frayed

to the point she felt like she might snap at the least

little thing.

She picked up line one. "Hello, Chief."

"Kara. I have some news."