Heat of the Night

Chapter 14

Connor stared straight down the highway and wondered at his sanity. It was shot to hell apparently; otherwise Stacey would not be in the passenger seat next to him.

"So all of your people are immortal?" she asked tentatively.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. The powerful HEMI engine of the Magnum hurtled them along Interstate 15 at eighty-five miles per hour, but the restlessness eating at him made it feel like they were standing still. They weren't reaching their destination fast enough.

"We can be killed," he said finally, "but it takes a lot of work."

"Are you going to k-kill Rachel?"

He shot a side-glance at her. "I may have to."

She nodded grimly.

"I'll do everything I can to keep this neat and clean, but if it comes down to the wire, we can't afford to fail."

"No, we can't." She offered him a shaky smile that was meant to be reassuring and his heart clenched. "I figured you might need me when you handed me this gun and started explaining."

"That's to protect yourself. Don't worry about me, Stacey." He reached out and set his hand over hers where it held the Glock. "Keep yourself alive. That's the most important thing."

The silence stretched out between them. Not quite comfortable, not quite uncomfortable.

She blew out her breath, then twisted in the seat to face him. "So I hold both arms out steady, and just keep pulling the trigger until all the bullets are gone. Even if they're down for the count?"

"Yeah, especially if they're down. You can't kill them with a gun. You can only slow them down long enough for me to finish the job."

"With the sword."

"That's right. Guardians can heal most injuries, but we can't grow back limbs or our heads."

"Yuck." She shuddered.

"And keep your eyes open. Sounds obvious, I know, but the report of the gun naturally causes the eyes to blink. You can fuck up a shot that way."

"Eyes open. Okay."

The hands-free communications system signaled an incoming call and they glanced at each other. Connor activated the line and said, "Tell me you have something good, Cross."

Aidan's brogue came through the speakers. "We've got a location on the black sedan. Your recollection of the plate numbers was right on and that led us to a rental agency in San Diego who has GPS locators on all of their vehicles. You're almost on top of them now."

"Where?" Stacey cried.

"They stopped in Barstow, near where the trace lost the cellular signal. Hopefully, they decided to hole up for the night and didn't just ditch the car."

Connor looked at the green highway sign they passed. "We'll be in Barstow in just a few minutes."

"I've got a chopper on the way," Aidan said. "We may need it."

"Stace?" Lyssa's voice come over the line filled with concern. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay, Doc."

"The crew here is in raptures over your pie," Lyssa said. "I hope you don't mind. It's been a few hours since you left and they're getting hungry."

"Are you kidding?" Stacey smiled wryly. "They're helping me get my kid back. I love each and every one of them. They can eat whatever they want."

"Hey!" Connor complained, working with Lyssa to keep Stacey's spirits up. "Save me a slice."

"Don't worry." Stacey touched his forearm, then pulled away quickly. "I'll make you your own pie. You won't have to share."

The look she gave him made his breath catch. There was affection there. Her body language told him she was wary, but her overture gave him hope.

"They're fighting over who can have some," Lyssa said with a soft laugh. "Too many people, not enough pie."

"It's still not better than sex," Aidan insisted.

"Depends on the sex," someone shouted out in the background.

That brought a genuine smile to Stacey's face. It did Connor's heart good to see some life in her. She was so pale, her eyes so big, her lush mouth framed by deep grooves of stress.

"You guys are making me hungry," he complained. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, which was not the way he liked to go into battle.

"Okay." The alertness in Aidan's tone caught Connor's attention. "You're going to take your next exit."

Glancing over his shoulder, Connor was grateful for both the number of dreams he'd shared where he learned to drive and also for the light traffic. Pretty much the only vehicles behind them were reinforcements-vans with cleanup crews and Hummers with armed backup. One day, he'd ask Aidan why McDougal needed a personal army, but right now, he was grateful for the support. "Okay, we're on the off ramp."

Aidan directed them away from the freeway to a motel that had probably never had a good day begin with, and certainly wasn't having one now. The two-story building appeared to have once been painted peach and brown, but in the yellow glow of the parking lot lights it was hard to tell for sure. The paint was cracked and peeling, the colors faded by the California sun.

Connor parked the car a short distance up the road from the establishment and said, "We're going in."

"Be careful," Aidan admonished. "I know you've never worked with humans before, so listen to me: Don't try and do everything yourself. McDougal is a savvy spender. He only hires the best. Trust your team to do their job. I'm fairly confident that you're going to pay through the nose for their help, so use it. I need you alive."

"Got it." While the order was given bluntly, Connor understood the friendship behind the words and took comfort in it. He was in a strange world, but he wasn't as alone as he'd first felt.

Disconnecting the line, he climbed out of the car and looked over the roof at Stacey as she did the same. His shoulders were well above the roofline. She was height-challenged, lifting to her tiptoes to see him more comfortably.

"Here's how we are going to handle this," he began. "We're just going to have a look around. Check out the car and the front desk. See if they're here or if they switched transportation and bailed."

She nodded grimly.

"Don't try to be a hero," he said. "I'm good, sweetheart, believe me. But with multiple opponents and a hostage at stake, I'm not in a position to fight them all and keep on eye on you. If they're here, you need to stay out of harm's way so I can concentrate on getting Justin back, not saving your ass."

He saw how much that killed her. The thought that her son could be close and she might have to restrain herself. Still, she said, "I understand."

"Do you trust me?" He made no effort to hide the emotions behind the question. Right now, his lack of detachment was both his greatest strength and his biggest liability.

Stacey's lips compressed until they were white, then tears glistened in her eyes.

Connor slammed his palm down on the roof so hard he startled her, making her gasp and jump.

"Damn it! Stop thinking about all the losers in your past and think about me! Do you trust me?"

"We just fucking met!" she hissed back at him. "Don't act like we've known each other forever."

"I care about you, Stacey. It doesn't matter how long we've known each other or not. It comes from here," he hit his chest, "and it's important to me. I think if you stopped trying to convince yourself that all men are the same, you'd realize that time doesn't matter."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. My-life-is-endless."

"Yeah, and your life isn't and you're wasting it." Connor held up a hand to cut her off. "I've lived centuries, Stacey. I've known a lot of women. I've spent years with some. I've done things with them that I haven't had time yet to do with you, but I already know this is different."

Shaking his head, he backed up and opened the rear driver's side door. "Forget it. I don't know why I asked."

"I didn't say I don't trust you." She came around the back of the car.

"You didn't say you did either."

He motioned her closer and then held up a shoulder holster for her to maneuver into. "You're going to wear this to hold the gun. If you have to, defend yourself." He tightened the straps until it was snugly secured, then he turned her to face him. "But I want you to run first. Shoot only if you have no other choice. Got it?"

"Yes."

Connor moved to turn away and she caught his arm. "I don't think you're like any other guy I've ever known." Her thumb stroked over his skin restlessly, an innocent absentminded caress.

"Damn fucking right I'm not," he growled, kissing her hard and swift before she could pull away. "I'm the guy who's going to wear you down. The guy who's going to make a nuisance of himself every time he's in town. The guy who's going to seduce you every chance he gets, even when you say no… Shit, especially when you say no."

Stacey gazed up at him with wide eyes and worried her lower lip.

"I can't promise to wear a suit and come home for dinner every night." He pushed her away and reached into the backseat for his scabbard, which he slung over his back. "But I can promise to care about you. And I'm stubborn, so get used to me."

Grabbing a windbreaker, he shoved it at her. "That'll help to hide the guns." Then he looked down at himself and groaned. "Okay. We look like hoodlums. Fuck."

"This is where I come in handy." Stacey reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of colorful sparkling rubber bands. Within minutes she had two childish pigtails sticking out the top of her head and garish red lipstick on her mouth. She used the reflection of the car window to secure a leather collar to her neck, then faced him. "Ta da!"

Connor's brows rose. "Yikes."

She shrugged. "I figured these pants were going to take some creativity to pull off, so I came prepared to look weird enough to wear them. There's nothing I can do about your sword though or the goon squad." Stacey gestured to the small army getting ready just a few feet away. "We'll just have to play it like we're looking for a costume party, if someone asks."

"Right… well… I like the collar."

Stacey shivered under the intense appreciation she saw in Connor's gaze. Even pissed off, frustrated, and under a great deal of stress he still tried to compliment her. Regardless of the situation between them, she loved him for that and for caring enough about her to go through all of this. Sure, his "people" had a vested in interest in what was going on. But he was fighting for Justin more than he was fighting over the trinity. She knew that for a fact.

"Are we ready?" she asked, the words husky with gratitude.

"As we'll ever be." He shut the door and gripped her by the elbow. Connor looked at the men waiting nearby and said, "Four of you check the perimeter. The rest come with me."

As he led her away there was strength and command in his touch, and Stacey appreciated both as they crossed the street and entered the parking lot of the motel. The pavement was cracked and worn, the cars in the spaces bearing more-than-average wear and tear. Many of the lights were either out or flickering with an annoying high-volume humming that grated on Stacey's already raw nerves. Litter spoiled on the ground and in the near distance, a dog howled plaintively, an apt accompaniment to such squalor.

They had a dozen men with them total. Of the eight who stayed close, four branched off at Connor's gestured command and began weaving through the parked cars.

"You know," Stacey began. "I just can't see Rachel stopping for the night in a place like this. Not when there are tons of other lodgings here in town and Mojave is so close."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. "I agree. They probably ditched the car, but even that's odd. Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb. Look at it. You can't miss it."

The cloud-filtered moonlight glimmered off the black paint, which made finding the sedan easy, despite its location in an unlit corner of the lot. They approached it slowly, cautiously. Connor took the lead; she followed a few steps behind with the others.

He paused several feet away and gestured to the nearby thick cement base that supported one of the lamps. "Wait over there and help look out."

"What am I looking out for?" she asked.

"Anyone coming by." His gaze was hard and fierce as he looked at one of the men in a nonverbal communication that was beyond her. "I need a closer look at that car and I don't want to be disturbed. Check your sides often and listen for any suspicious noises."

She was pretty sure he was just trying to get her out of his hair, but she'd promised to listen and she would.

Without another word, Stacey did as he asked, following the guy assigned to her to the requested position. Her gaze roamed the lot in a steady back-and-forth sweep. The lamp she stood under was dead center at the end, which afforded her an open view of the property. It also offered a hideous smell. It was her guess that more than a few animals-and perhaps even humans-had used the distant location as a urinal.

Her stomach roiled with a mixture of disgust and fear. Connor and the others worked almost silently, doing whatever the hell it was that they were doing to the car. The guy next to her said nothing and bore no expression at all on his face or in his eyes.

The temperature was chilly, but Stacey suspected it was her own fear that made her shiver so violently. The neon vacancy sign blinked off and on, coaxing her to stare briefly at the glass door to the front desk. That was as dirty as the rest of the place. Spattered with something foul and so grimy it obviously hadn't been washed in years.

Connor returned to her with such stealth Stacey wouldn't have been aware of him if she hadn't been keeping vigil. She raised her brows in query.

"Let's go to the office," he said with alarming alacrity, snatching her elbow and dragging her away.

"Why?"

"Because I said."

There was something underlying his tone that made her look back over her shoulder. Two of the men remained with the vehicle in defensive positions. She couldn't see what they'd done to the sedan, if anything.

Then a flash of glimmered moonlight caught her eye. She slowed.

Something was dripping from the trunk onto the asphalt, forming an ever-growing puddle. From the rate of seepage, the substance was thicker than water…

"Oh my god!" She stumbled and Connor kept her upright, his pace unchanged. "What's in the trunk?"

"Our friend with the teeth."

Her heart dropped into her stomach and she swallowed hard. "You thought Justin might be in there, didn't you? That's why you made me move away."

"It was a possibility."

His jaw was locked, his eyes forward, his step purposeful.

"You think he's dead, don't you?" Her voice rose and she fought his grip. "What did you see in there? Tell me!"

Connor halted and yanked her into him. "Keep your voice down, damn it!"

He gestured the other men onward with a quick jerk of his chin. When they were alone, he said, "There's nothing in there but a head and a body, neither of which belong to your son."

"Oh my god… oh my god…"

"This is where that trust I asked for comes into play."

Nodding violently, she pulled away to fight the feeling of claustrophobia.

"Stace." His brogue softened. "We're going to the office now. We need to disable any security cameras this sorry assed place might have and find out which of the rooms are presently occupied. Then we're going door to door until we're sure they're not here."

Stacey bent over, gasping. As cold as she'd been a moment ago, she was sweating now. "You don't think they left?"

"They probably did, but we have to be sure. Come on." He tugged her up and kept going. "You wanted to come; you have to keep it together."

How was she going to keep it together when she felt like vomiting? The people who had her son were the type of individuals who decapitated others and stuffed their bodies in trucks. "I feel sick."

He cursed under his breath and stopped again. "Don't do this to me," he said brusquely. "I've got to keep going. Do you understand that? I promised you I would get Justin back. I promised you that if you gave me a chance, I would deliver. Don't make me fail."

Gasping for air, she nodded, clearing her mind of terrifying images by sheer will alone. He was right. She knew he was right. She'd fuck everything up if she lost it now. "I'm with you."

Connor pulled her upright and tilted her chin skyward, opening her airways to facilitate deep breaths. "You're brave, sweetheart." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm proud of you. Now, let's go."

One foot in front of the other. Stacey knew she could make it in baby steps. At least she thought so until they reached the door to the office and one of the men intercepted them.

"You might want to keep the lady out, sir," he said.

It was then Stacey realized the dirt splattered on the glass was blood. And that was only a miniscule amount of the volume of gore that covered what she could see of the front desk area.

She gagged.

"You can't throw up," Connor growled, clamping a hand over her mouth and dragging her away. His voice came low and rough by her ear. "The authorities are going to investigate this. You can't leave any biological evidence behind. You understand? Nod, if you understand."

Stacey couldn't move. She was frozen in place by the horror of what she'd seen.

"Okay." He picked her up and moved her out to the public curb. "Let's get you back to the car. We'll lock you in. You keep the gun at the ready…"

Struggling, she managed to get him to set her down. "I can do this," she promised. "I can help you."

"You're a wreck," he said. "You're going to get yourself arrested and charged with murder."

"I'll be your lookout." Stacey watched him shake his head. Setting her hand on his chest, she said, "I'll never forgive myself if I don't help you."

"You can help me by calling Aidan back and bringing him up to speed." Connor cupped her face and stared down into her eyes. The emotion in the liquid depths was visible even in the darkness. "You are a precious, cheery light in my life. I want to keep you that way. Let me protect you from this much, at least."

She considered that a moment, but couldn't fight the feeling she was letting him down. Then she glanced over his shoulder at the front desk and her stomach churned violently.

"Yeah, you're right," she admitted. "I can't take it. Take me back to the car. I'll make the phone call."

Connor put his hand at the small of her back and directed her toward the Magnum with strides so long she had to jog to keep up.

"I'm sorry," she said, as he unlocked the door with the remote and assisted her into the passenger seat.

"For what? For doing the right thing? For knowing your limits?" He bent down and looked her in the eye. "I admire you, sweetheart. I'm not disappointed."

Straightening, he said, "I'll be back. Keep the gun ready in your lap. Call Aidan."

He shut the door and reactivated the alarm system with the remote. And then he was gone.

Stacey ignored the hands-free system in favor of direct use of the handset. Aidan answered immediately. "What have you got?"

"Hey it's me."

Aidan's voice softened. "Hey, Stace. What's going on?"

"We found the car. The driver's dead. Decapitated in the trunk. Someone's dead in the office. Or multiple someones. I couldn't go in. There's so much blood. T-tons of it. Ev-verywhere-"

"Shh, it's okay. We'll take care of it. How are you holding up? You doing alright?"

"Yeah." She blew out her breath and glanced toward the lobby.

"Where's Connor?"

"He went to see which rooms are occupied."

The office was located on the corner created by the driveway and the road. Two solid walls of the lobby were glass, providing a view to the interior from the street and also from the motel itself. Various brochure stands and a cloth-draped table with a coffeemaker atop it blocked the lower view to the inside. As she watched, Connor spoke to one of the men, who nodded in reply and then headed toward her.

"Where are you?"

"He locked me in the car."

"Good. Sit tight. There are others on the way. They'll be there shortly."

"C-Connor-" Her voice broke.

"Don't worry about him," Aidan said firmly. "I've fought beside him a long time, Stace. He's the best soldier I know. If it were my child, I wouldn't choose anyone but him to help me. He's just that damn good."

She gave a jerky nod.

"Stace? You okay?"

"Yes. Sorry. I forgot you can't see me." A crazed little laugh escaped her. "I can't believe this afternoon I was baking a pie." And making love with a man who makes me weak in the knees.

"Hang in there. Once we get the motel secured, you can ride the chopper back."

Shaking her head, she said, "No. I have to be there when they find Justin."

Aidan's sigh was audible. "Keep listening to Connor, then."

"Of course."

They disconnected. Stacey was left with a heavy silence and a guard by her door. She realized that her heart was racing madly and her breathing was shallow, both reactions were making her lightheaded.

"Jesus," she muttered, forcing herself to breathe slow and easy. "Get a grip, Stace."

A glimmer of light caught her eye.

Already on edge, her head swiveled to the left where the edge of the road met a slight embankment spotted with trees.

Rachel stood there with a horror of a grin, her once-beautiful face a nightmare of scratches and gouges that would have killed a human. She was missing a chunk of her scalp, the flesh torn so deeply bone was visible.

But that wasn't what caused Stacey to scream.

The full measure of her terror was for her son, who hung limp and unconscious in one of Rachel's arms. The woman's other hand was occupied by a wicked looking sword.

The guard, alerted by her piercing cries, spotted the macabre pair. Yelling into his headset, he charged in their direction. Stacey struggled with the door, feeling frantically for the lock, cursing in frustration until the damn thing gave way and freed her. Stumbling out, she gasped as Connor flew past. She attempted to follow, stepping around the bumper only to gag violently.

The guard's decapitated head rolled to a halt at her feet, his sightless eyes and gaping mouth forever frozen in terror.

Looking up, she saw at least a half dozen of the grinning, ghoulish creatures descending on Connor in a swarm. His blade glinted and flashed with extraordinary speed, his two-fisted swinging dismembering limbs left and right. He fought in a moving circle of steel, spinning and arching in a fatal dance. More camouflaged guards ran up the short rise, creating a scene straight out of a horror flick.

Stacey took in the awesome display in a daze, marveling at the grace and power with which Connor moved. He was so big, yet his agility and speed were impressive. It gave her confidence to see him engaged with such skill and focus. Without him, she was certain she'd be paralyzed with fear. With him, she felt capable of anything.

Taking off at a run, Stacey thrust her right hand into her windbreaker and wrapped it around the grip of the Glock. She yanked it free and took comfort in its weight. She'd never fired a gun in her life, but she was more than ready to shoot the hell out of something now.

Stumbling over a tree root, Stacey fell to her knees in a jarring, painful impact. She lumbered to her feet and pressed onward, but the brief delay was fortuitous. It slowed her down, affording her the time to spot the sole of a shoe beside a tree to her right.

Justin's shoe.

Stacey ran toward it. Picked it up. Looked beyond it. Saw the other.

That one was still attached to her son.

"Justin!" She scrambled over to him, her free hand feeling along his body for injuries. For signs of life. He was so pale, his eyes so bruised looking, the side of his face caked with dried blood spatter. She set the gun down and shook his shoulders. "Justin! Baby, wake up. Wake up, baby, please! Justin!"

She thumped his chest and slapped his cheeks. "Baby. Baby, don't do this to me. You wake up! Justin!"

He coughed and Stacey cried out in relief, her vision blurring with tears, her heart aching as he curled up on his side and groaned. She was so focused on him she failed to see the approaching danger until it was too late. A sharp, deep pain struck her arm, then an icy chill spread through the muscle. She screamed and flailed wildly.

A feral, masculine roar filled the air. There was a brief glimpse of golden hair, then Rachel was yanked upwards and tossed away as if she weighed nothing. The damaged woman rolled away with a gurgling laugh, leaving Stacey to find the massive syringe that hung from where it pierced her biceps.

"I will return for what is inside you," the woman hissed, leaping to safety with preternatural strength when Connor lunged blade first after her.

"You fucking bitch!" Stacey screamed, reaching for the gun and falling to her back.

Connor tackled Rachel and twisted along the ground with her. Stacey struggled for a clean shot, but as the unbearable chill moved up her arm and into her brain, she knew she was going to pass out.

Just as blackness began to narrow her vision, Rachel reared up and provided a perfect target. Aiming between her spread legs, Stacey fired one round after another, emptying the clip into Rachel's brutalized body. The woman jerked with each impact, then fell to the ground.

Laughing.

As Stacey lost consciousness, that laugh followed her into oblivion.