Heat of the Night

Chapter 13

The drive from the massive wrought iron security gate to the front of the McDougal mansion was not a short one. It was at least two miles long and it wended up the rather steep hill in a series of sharp turns. Cameras on poles turned their eyes to mark Connor's progress, a precaution the McDougal security team made no effort to hide.

Having seen Aidan's memories, Connor knew the first time his friend had come here he'd been slightly intimidated by the rather forbidding welcome. Months later, it still put Aidan on edge, but the job was uniquely suited to their needs so he managed. A bit of discomfort was worth the money the job paid and the unlimited travel expenses.

Connor didn't have the luxury or inclination to be nervous about the task ahead. Stacey and Justin needed him and his personal discomfort didn't matter as far as he was concerned.

He rounded the circular drive and parked Lyssa's BMW in the parking spot designated with Aidan's name. The main house was located around the next bend. This smaller building was set aside for Aidan's use.

When Aidan was ready to work, a team of six assistants would be on hand to help him. Since he was supposed to be in Mexico, the building was deserted, which suited Connor's aims perfectly. He was going to "borrow" the items he needed. He was pretty certain McDougal would consider it stealing.

Pulling Aidan's keys out of his pocket, Connor unlocked the heavy metal door. He pushed it open and the lights came on, illuminating a linoleum-lined hallway flanked by rooms suiting various purposes on either side.

In some respects, it reminded him of both the rock cavern in the Twilight and the private gallery in the Temple of the Elders where the floor dissolved into multi-colored swirls and glimpses of a starry expanse of space. Fanciful, he knew, to compare this sterile human environment to the mysteries of the Twilight, but he couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu.

Connor unlocked the third door on the right and the sensor by the door picked up the movement and turned on the lights. Scattered across the room were numerous stainless steel tables covered with electronics in various stages of assembly. Against the far wall, a specially designed rack held dozens of silver laptops and he went there first.

They were all charged, due Aidan's lengthy absence, so Connor grabbed the first one he found and turned to scan it into the computer, which would activate it.

The level of security utilized by McDougal was astonishing even to a man possessed of Connor's vast knowledge. He often wondered why the man was so intrigued with the ancient past and what it was about his present that made him so neurotically wary. McDougal never accepted visitors and was often compared to Howard Hughes in the latter stages of his dementia.

"Who are you?"

Connor jumped at the sound of McDougal's distinctively raspy voice. He glanced behind him, but he was alone in the room. McDougal was speaking through the crystal-clear speakers positioned in every corner.

"Connor Bruce," he replied, imagining what the man looked like who went with that voice. It sounded almost as if he was on a respirator.

"Should I know you, Mr. Bruce?"

Smiling wryly, Connor shook his head. "No. I'm afraid not, Mr. McDougal."

"Then why are you absconding with my expensive equipment?"

Connor paused in the act of placing the now-functional laptop into its padded case. A reasonable question. And he valued Aidan's job enough to be honest. "Something pressing has come up and I need help."

"Ah, yes. You mercenary types are never completely free of danger are you?"

"You're taking this well," Connor noted.

"How does Mr. Cross figure into this plan of yours?"

"I brained him and stole his car and keys."

"And you magically know your way around my facility as if you've been here many times?"

"Uh… something like that."

There was a long hesitation, but Connor kept moving, gathering up all the many items he'd need to track Rachel's cellular signal. "I'm a very wealthy man, Mr. Bruce."

"Yes, sir. I know that." He caught up the bag and left the room, moving with bold strides down the hall.

"There is a good reason for that."

"I'm sure there is." Connor keyed in the code that opened the armory door.

"I don't allow people to take advantage of me."

The lock mechanism beeped its approval and the pneumatic locks disengaged with a sharp hiss. Connor pushed the heavy door open and set his bag down on the table in the center of the room. A marksman's paradise.

"I'm riot taking advantage of you, sir." He began pulling handguns from their respective racks and laid them out next to the laptop. "I promise to return everything I'm taking with me today."

"Including Mr. Cross?"

"Especially Cross," Connor said, filling the magazine tube with rounds. "He'll have a nasty bump on the head, but otherwise, he'll be no worse for wear."

"I'm inclined to stop you."

"I'm inclined to make it difficult for you to do so."

"I have a dozen armed men surrounding Cross's vehicle as we speak."

Connor reached behind him and tapped the hilt of his glaive over his shoulder.

"Hmm… I have a fondness for swords," McDougal said.

"Me, too. I can kick a lot of ass with one. It's not pretty, so I'd prefer to take a more peaceable route, if you don't mind." Working industriously, Connor dumped out another box of rounds and filled more mag clips.

"You know your way around an armory, Mr. Bruce."

"It's a prerequisite for us mercenary types."

"I could use more men like you," McDougal said, though in truth it was a demand. They both knew Aidan was at his mercy. "I think you owe me for my cooperation, don't you agree?"

"What do you want?"

"A credit for a future task. Of my choosing."

Connor paused and stared grimly down at the weapons in his hands. His instincts were finely honed and he trusted them implicitly. Right now they were clanging hell-for-leather. He exhaled harshly. "Cross keeps his job?"

"Certainly. After all, it's not his fault you brained him, right?"

"Right."

"Excellent!" Satisfaction dripped from the coarse voice. "Puts me in a good mood. Perhaps you could use some assistance? Some manpower? Equipment?"

Oh yeah… he was in deep shit if McDougal anticipated his "credit" being worth all that. But what the hell. If he was going to strike a bargain with the devil, he damn well expected to get his soul's worth out of it.

"All of the above," he said, getting back to work. "Can I get a chopper, too?"

Aidan stared down at the somewhat tiny filigreed triangle with its intricate design and wondered what value it held. It was thin, about two inches in diameter with no back to it. He could see right through it, so there was no compartment to hide anything inside. In fact, if he found this without having any preconceived notions of what it was, he'd guess it was a necklace charm or some other bit of jewelry.

"Hey." Lyssa pulled out the chair beside him and sat, setting a cup of steaming coffee down in front of her. "Is that it?"

He shrugged and twisted the book around so that she could see the rendering that had been made of it in the pages. "It's definitely one of the items I was hoping to find, but there are pieces that work in conjunction with it and we don't have them."

"At least it's a triangle," she offered. "That's a good sign."

"Yes, it's hopeful. There's a mention of the Mojave Desert. The coordinates here-" he pointed to the page "-line up to that area and the mentions of caverns seem to confirm it."

She reached out and set her hand over his. "I'm worried. If something happens to Justin, I don't think Stacey can take it. He's all she has."

"I know." He straightened in the chair. "The Elders are very good at finding weaknesses and exploiting them. I anticipated something like this. I just wasn't prepared for them to strike against Stacey."

"How could any of us know?"

"Connor suggested that she might be vulnerable because of how close she is to you. I thought he was bullshitting me, using it as a way to excuse his interest in her. Obviously, I was wrong."

"I think he really likes her."

"Yeah." Aidan heaved out his breath. "I think so, too."

"So where do we go from here?" She released him and sat back.

"I'm going to have to search for more things like this-" he held up the filigreed triangle, "-using a book written when the landscape was totally different than the way it is now. I'll be gone more often than not. If Connor and Stacey can work things out after whatever happens tonight, I'll feel better all around. I can't protect everyone alone, Lyssa. The shit just keeps on coming."

"I'm not sure that his help will be enough, as much as I value it."

"True." Aidan's mouth thinned grimly. "We need reinforcements. As soon as we can catch our breath, Connor is going to have to sit down and figure out who is best to bring over from the Twilight. I haven't been with the men since they've become rebels. I have no idea who is up for the task and who isn't."

Lyssa leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I can't believe all the sacrifices the Guardians are making for us."

"It was our fuck-up, Hot Stuff." He cupped the back of her neck and nuzzled his nose against hers. "It's our responsibility to clean it up."

The sound of a car pulling into the drive caught both their attentions. Then another car. And another. Pushing to their feet, they ran to the front door. Stacey stood on the porch, watching the invasion with a blank stare.

A fleet of cars flooded Stacey's property. Hummers, Magnums, Jeeps, and vans, their headlights angled in every direction as they covered the lawn in a broad pattern.

"Holy shit," Lyssa said.

"I'm insane," Stacey muttered, her hands on her sweats-clad hips. "There is no other explanation for this madness."

Connor hopped out of the nearest car, a black Magnum. He caught Aidan's eye and shrugged. "I brought reinforcements."

"I'll say."

The yard was reclaimed by the darkness as headlights were extinguished one by one. Men and women began to climb from their vehicles. Cargo doors and trunks were opened and masses of equipment brought out.

Sprinting up the steps, Connor gestured everyone into the house. "Your home is going to be headquarters, Stace," he explained, holding the door open for her and Lyssa to enter. "There's a transponder in Rachel's cell phone that is sending its location to a receiver on her end. By setting up shop here, it'll appear as if we're staying put."

"Do whatever you want to the damn house," she said, green eyes hard and determined. "As long as I get Justin back, I don't give a shit about anything else."

The screen door was pulled open and a flood of urban camouflaged individuals poured in.

"First," Connor said to the group at large, pointing to Tommy. "Tranq him so he stays knocked out." He looked at Stacey. "We'll take him back to the hotel. Can you write a note saying that Justin called you and complained of homesickness? Make up something about not wanting to get in a fight about it, so you came and left without waking him."

Stacey arched a brow.

"It's as close to plausible as we're going to get on such-short notice," Connor argued. "If you've got a better idea, let's hear it."

"Fuck it."

"Right." Connor glanced at Aidan. "Well?"

"It's triangular," Aidan replied, "but it's a small part of a larger whole and until I figure out what the other pieces are, I can't figure out what the purpose is."

Connor caught the bag thrown at him by one of McDougal's men. "I've got to change into the latest fashion on display here." He gestured at the black, white, and gray-clad people around them. "McDougal didn't have much of a selection in the sportswear department."

"How the hell did you get away with all of this?" Aidan asked.

"A favor of some sort or another."

"I've got your back," Aidan said.

"Thanks. I've got to change before Rachel calls. Hopefully, we can get a beat on her location."

Connor traversed the hall to the guest bathroom, which was decorated in soft sea foam green. Stacey liked color because she had a colorful personality. As he stepped into the shower, he thought of this, thought about how he considered such things about her.

There was a Guardian in the Twilight named Morgan who had been something of a "booty call" to him for centuries. If he wanted a quick fuck with no expectations and even less conversation, she was his girl. Still, despite how often he'd slept with her, Connor couldn't recall what the interior of her home was like. He knew she liked flowers and he always brought her some, but he didn't know what her favorite flower was or what her favorite color was.

He wanted to know everything about Stacey.

Why her? Why now?

"Aw, fuck it!" he muttered, scrubbed out the soap in his hair. His brain hurt from trying to comprehend his feelings.

He cared. Period. Why the hell did he need to know why? He just did.

When Connor exited the steamy bathroom a few minutes later, he found the living room, breakfast nook, and kitchen completely commandeered.

The industrious hum of conversations died suddenly. He frowned, then the soft trill of an uninspired cell phone ring explained the ensuing silence. He jogged to the threshold between the living room and kitchen. Aidan tossed him the phone when he came into view.

Connor caught and flipped it open in one easy movement. "Yes?"

A cord connected the phone to the laptop on the table, which was monitored by a young lady with severely restrained brown hair and an emotionless expression. She gave the thumbs up signal that the trace was in progress.

"Captain Bruce," Rachel purred, "do you have the trinity?"

"Gold scrollwork triangle?" he queried. "I've got it."

"Excellent, after it is safely in my possession, I will send someone-"

"No way." His grip on the handset tightened. "Even trade. I see the boy alive, you see the trinity."

"You wound me, Captain. After all we have been through together, you still do not trust me?"

"Nope. Not a bit."

"Very well, then. Meet me in the parking lot of the Del Mar Mall in Monterey."

"Got it." He glanced at the gal on the laptop. She shook her head.

Damn it, he had to keep her on the line a little longer…

"Rachel? A word of advice? Not a scratch on the boy." His voice lowered ominously. "You won't like what happens otherwise."

Connor's teeth grit as Rachel laughed, but he waited for her to disconnect the line before hanging up.

"According to last tower position, that call didn't come from the north," the brunette said. "It came from the Barstow area."

Aidan glanced at Connor. "I think she's headed to Mojave."

"Can we go now?" Stacey asked, stepping into view from the kitchen.

She was wearing a black ribbed tank top, urban camouflage pants, and jungle boots. More important than that, however, was her expression. Burning eyes and pursed lips told Connor that dissuading her from tagging along was going to be a bitch. "Why don't you help Aidan figure things out?" he suggested.

"Nice try," she retorted. "But I'm not staying here."

He looked back at Aidan. "Are you sending someone up to Monterey?"

They knew each other so well, they could communicate without words. The chances of Rachel separating from her bargaining chip were so slim, they didn't even signify. Justin was with her. Monterey was a decoy. Since it would take three hours to get to Mojave and several to get to Monterey, she was stalling for time.

"I'm not an idiot," Stacey said, coming over to him. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, but she set her hands on her hips and looked ready to take him on anyway. "You think you can send me along to Monterey, don't you? It's faster to Mojave and you're hoping that you'll wrap this all up before I'm in danger."

Connor struggled to keep his face stern when he really wanted to smile. "If Justin's in Monterey, that's where you'll want to be."

"Listen." Her head tilted to the side. "I'm going with you. If you're going to Monterey, that's where I'm going. If you're going to Mojave, that's where I'm going. Now grab your shit and let's go."

Stacey glanced at Aidan. "Which car are we taking?"

"Stace, please," Lyssa begged. Standing from her seat at the end of the small table. "Stay with me."

"Sorry, Doc. No can do."

Grabbing her arm, Connor led her out through the crowded living room and then outside. He took her to the far corner of the porch, by the bedroom window, as far away as possible from the steady foot traffic moving in and out of the house.

Stacey followed Connor with shaking legs. She hoped he didn't notice how unsteady her steps were. She was terrified he would find a way to leave her behind. Maybe it was unreasonable to feel like she had to be with him, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Her home was no longer her own, Lyssa was a walking guilt-trip, and Aidan was focused on keeping everything running smoothly. She felt like an outsider. Lost, confused, and really goddamned scared.

Connor was her only anchor in the mess that was her life. He was stoic, prepared. Ready to go. What would she do if he left her behind?

He drew to a stop and heaved out a breath. The roof of the porch hid him in shadow, but his eyes glittered with emotions she both longed for and resented.

"Stacey," he began in that low, rich brogue she adored. "What can I do to get you to stay behind?"

"Nothing." Her voice came out hoarser than she would have liked.

"Sweetheart." The aching note in his voice made her cry.

"You can't leave me here, Connor. You can't."

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed firm lips to her brow. "I won't be able to think if you're with me. I'd be too scared for you."

"Please," she begged in scarcely more than a whisper. "Please take me with you. I'll go crazy here."

He was going to say no, she could tell. Her hands fisted in his T-shirt. His skin was so hot she could feel the humidity through the black cotton. "You owe me," she said. "I swear to God I'll never forgive you if you leave me behind. We'll never have a chance-you and me-if you go without me."

Tension gripped his frame and his head lifted. "Do we have a chance now?"

She swallowed hard, her chest compressed in a vice of misery and yearning.

"Stacey?" He pressed his parted lips to hers, his tongue flickering along the seam.

"I don't know," she breathed against his mouth. "I can't think about everything now. What you are… what this means… But I need you. I need to be with you."

Connor nuzzled his temple against hers and cursed under his breath. "You have to listen to me. Obey every command without question."

"Yes," she promised, surging into him. "Yes, whatever you say."

"You'll be the death of me," he murmured, taking her mouth with deep, possessive licks. His thumbs brushed across her cheekbones, wiping at the wetness left by her tears. His grip was almost too tight, his passion almost too much.

She welcomed it, welcomed his warmth and strength when she had none, and she missed it when he pulled away reluctantly.

"Let's grab our bags," he said with a resigned sigh. "The sooner we take off, the sooner we'll have Justin back."

Filled with gratitude, she restrained him and kissed him one more time. "Thank you."

"I don't like this," he growled. "I don't like it all."

But he was doing it anyway, because he couldn't deny her. There was something precious in that capitulation.

Stacey stored away the feeling to examine another day.