Stallion of Ash and Flame (Siren Publishing Classic) (13 page)

He stilled inside, not feeling the pumping in and out of his own breath. “You’ve got what?”

“I would have sent copies to someone. But, so far, I haven’t figured out who’s corrupt and who isn’t. If I send them to someone else who’s corrupt, where does that leave me? Dead in a roadside ditch, probably.”

“Who else knows?” he carefully asked, his gut wrenching at what she’d revealed. She was in even more danger than he’d known. She also had an ace up her sleeve.

“No one. Not even Rory. Well, Ignition knows because I was riding him at the time, but, I don’t think he’s talking. He knows which side his grain is buttered on. Molasses, actually.”

“Where—” he began.

She sighed impatiently, interrupting him. “Not here, of course. With several attorneys, not living in this area, who have instructions to release the damning evidence if anything happens to me.”

Trail performed a quick scan and found no etheric listeners or covert tech aimed at them. Relieved, he sank his lips into her waves of hair and pondered their situation. “You said you messed up two of the sheriff’s corrupt deals. You don’t mean by taping him, do you?”

“You want all my secrets, don’t you, alien
man? Hell, I don’t why I’m even talking to you. Maybe because I’m doomed and it’s confession time.” She sharply blew out a breath, then wiggled with her irritation. “Or you can control my mind. Doo...doo...doo.” She crooned the paranormal mantra.

“Stop,” he commanded. “Stop it. You are not doomed.”

“Why? What are you going to do, chase all the bad guys away while scrambling their brains?”

“It’s a thought.”

“Come on. How do I know you haven’t scrambled my brains?”

“Do they feel scrambled?”

“They always feel scrambled in one way or another,” she retorted quickly. “So, how would I know?”

“Are you going to confess?” he reminded.

She thrashed around a bit, and he tightened his hold on her. “I was exercising one of the boarding mares, Priscilla, along the main trail in the National Forest that borders our place. I heard a helicopter, one of those ones that sound odd and are probably a military secret. I think they’re probably nuclear powered from what I read on the Internet. The sound is a dull roaring throb. Often you can hear them, but you don’t see them, like they’re cloaked in some way.”

She paused for a deep breath. “Anyway, Priscilla was in a resting walk, and I kept looking up. It was dark colored, but not exactly black. And small, but it didn’t look like any helicopter I’ve seen. Suddenly it just dropped out of sight, down to the forest canopy. Minutes later, I heard loud voices. Two men arguing. Priscilla is good about staying where you leave her and not panicking. I dismounted and crept toward the shouting voices. They were blaming each other for someone not showing up who was supposed to be there. I recognized the sheriff’s voice. Like how can you miss it?”

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“Okay, I plead to being stupid, but there was good cover, so I kept sneaking closer.” Again she halted, gathering herself. “And there sat the helicopter, in the middle of this area that had been intentionally cleared to be used for a meeting place.”

“What did it look like, Seneca?” Damn, his tone had been too grave. But he’d been chased by several different types of black-ops helicopters during his times on Earth.

“The best description I’ve come up with is a giant gnat. It was bug-like in shape. Of course, it didn’t have wings. The surface coloring reminded me of sharkskin...a flat black, but embedded with a dark green.” She twisted to gaze up at him. “Why? What do you know that I don’t?”

“I know they’re designed for low-level reconnaissance and used to track the alien species on Earth visiting or inhabiting isolated places. Lots of species,” he forestalled her question.

She nodded. “I didn’t see anyone who looked alien. But then, you don’t exactly look alien.”

“Who did you see?”

“Some crew-cut special-forces types watching the sheriff argue with a man who could have been Dick Cheney’s twin, except he looked a whole lot healthier.”

“Former Vice President Cheney?”

“Yep. Maybe he has a younger brother, but, I wouldn’t know. Anyway, whoever was supposed to meet them finally showed up in this super-duper outfitted Jeep. I never saw who it was. They stayed inside, but handed out two large leather satchels. Dick Cheney-look-alike took one and headed back to the helicopter. Sheriff Colgan still talked, hush-hush, to whoever stayed inside the jeep. They were still jawing after the helicopter had flown a fair distance away.”

“What did you do?” he pressed at her silence.

“I didn’t think.” She loosed a ragged sigh. “I aimed my rifle, had a clear shot. The sheriff’s car was parked by a rough road of sorts, and I hit his front driver’s side tire. The person in the jeep hauled the satchel back inside and peeled out of there as if the devil chased after him. I didn’t wait to find out what the sheriff would do.

“It was slow-going because I stayed hidden, but I made my way back to Priscilla, mounted, and got the heck out of there. I swear my heart stayed in my throat the whole time. Until I got back here.

“I worried for days the sheriff would show up. He never did. That was about a year ago.”

Trail rested his chin on top of her head. “Dangerous, Seneca.”

“The second time wasn’t so dangerous. He pimps out a few prostitutes, mostly women from other towns. I noticed him haggling price with Doug Harris. It was disgusting since Doug’s wife was pregnant at the time.

“To make a long story short, I followed Doug into the men’s restroom. And while he took a long beer-induced piss, I told him if he didn’t head on home, I was making his wife aware of his extra-curricular activities.

“Anyway, I ended up driving him home. And Colgan fat-butt didn’t get his money. At least, not that night.” She shrugged a shoulder.

“You’ve got me now to watch out for that beautiful ass of yours.” Hell, he’d almost told her too much for right now. That she was his to protect. And always would be.

“One reason I started filming his drug deals was to protect my ass.”

“What is it?” She’d stilled, her breathing too shallow.

“Can you make me pregnant? I mean can you make a...”

“No. I can’t. There would have to be certain physiological changes made in your womb.”

“I’m not ovulating, but,
I wondered. And—”

“And,” he prompted. Damn if she didn’t feel fragile, as if she’d break in his arms.

“I’m not up to having children now. I can barely deal with things the way they are. Especially the ways things have been going recently.”

He nodded, his chin pressing on the top of her head. “Seneca, children are the last thing on my mind, the exception being my niece. I do miss her.”

“How old is she, your niece?”

“Compared to children here, about fours years old. And to hear my brother talk, she’s already running wild.”

“So many questions I’d like to ask you. But this is not the time, is it? Are we heading for the hills, alien man? Now that you know more about my past with the sheriff of our fair town.”

“It’s better to stand our ground.” He nuzzled into her hair briefly. “I want the chance to get inside his head when he ‘ambushes’ you. I’ll be able to discover how much he knows about those he’s involved with, plus the back story.”

“Can’t you just ambush his head now?”

“Most likely the Fire Starters are waiting with their psi-sensors. They started to sense our presence.”

“Oh. Damn. Won’t these Fire Starters be sensing when the sheriff comes for me, packin’ weed?”

“Maybe, ma’am. Maybe not,” he teased. “It’ll be easier to suck it out of his cauliflower-like brain, because he’ll be thinking about it. The info could help us recover the amulets. I promise we won’t let him get past the front of your drive.”

“We?” she dubiously asked.

“I’ll know when he’s arriving. You head him off at the pass or down by your drive’s gate. That will give me the chance to read his thoughts fast, then scramble his brain waves.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather run for the hills. Except I can’t leave my animals. But if I’m arrested, I’m blaming you.” She thumped the side of her face on his chest for emphasis. “God knows what the son of a bitch will do. He already...already caused Rory’s accident.” She swallowed a sob, choking for an instant. “At least, if we can keep him down at the end of the drive, he can’t plant weed in the house,” she sarcastically finished.

Restlessly repositioning herself, she hissed an angry sigh. “Oh, look what we have here,” she imitated the sheriff, “a dropped baggie of what looks like maree-juaaanaa by your gate. You better come peaceful-like before I have to draw and shoot you where you stand.”

“Wouldn’t make a convincing case.” Trail let his voice grin. “Anyone could have tossed the incriminating evidence there.”

“I suppose he’d just lie and say he found it in the house or the stable. I sure hope you’re good at scrambling brain waves.”

She writhed her ass against him as if she enjoyed how his body felt against her. If the situation hadn’t been so crucial, he would have linked to her emotions to know for certain.

“Top of my class.”

“There’s something you should know. I have claustrophobia, and a jail cell wouldn’t work. I’d start screaming, and I wouldn’t quit until they knocked me out, killed me, or hauled me off to a mental ward. Then the drugs would probably kill me, since I’m allergic.”

“Allergic?”

She nodded against his chest. “Never met a drug I could take. It would be bye, bye. Lights really out.”

Like parts of a three-dimensional, electro-magnetic puzzle, the pieces fell into place. She carried a specialized gene pool created by the earliest Druids. One that could only be activated in the current time of the Quickening, as Earth neared the galactic center. The balance of her body’s electrical system would be harmfully disturbed by any prescription medication.

“Seneca, I know how to break out of any jail or prison. How to break you out without anyone even knowing you were there.”

“If that’s true, a demonstration would be nice,” she challenged.

Lifting his hand from her, he turned his palm upwards. “Put your hand in mine. I’ll demonstrate.”

“How?” She placed her palm on top, and he felt hope stir inside her.

“Phase shift.” Gripping her hand gently, he altered his hand to a higher vibratory rate. “Now watch.” Gradually he lowered their locked hands to the bedspread, then immersed them inside the bedspread. He sank their phased flesh deeper into the mattress, making it look like their hands vanished.

“Wow. That is too cool.” With awe she watched him withdraw their hands.

“I can phase us out of jail.”

“And I don’t feel anything.” She stared at their clasped hands. “Well, there is a slight buzzy-tingle.”

“That’s good. It means your frequencies are stretching to meet mine.”

“As fantastic as this is, and it is, what if something happens to you before we can make a phase-shift break for it?”

“Don’t count me out that fast, sweetheart. I’ve survived many an attempt to capture my hide.” He didn’t add a stallion’s desire to rescue his mare would be all-consuming.

“Wow, this is cool. At least, knowing you can do this would keep me calm for awhile. Okay, bossy stud, we’ll play it your way this time. Not that I have many options,” she added softly. “Yeah, that’s how I wanted to start the day, facing off the sheriff. Hell, I can’t even carry a rifle or strap on my pistol, I’d be tempted to plug him. Of course, he’d take my gun as a terrorist threat instead of my legal right. God, what an unholy mess.”

“Once we have the amulets, and I have a handle on the Fire Starters, we’ll make sure his corruption is exposed.”

“One way or another,” she agreed. Ferocious determination owned her voice. “I suppose I need to get some sleep so I can function with some level of intelligence.”

“Do you want me to ease you into dreamland?” Picking up her hand, he kissed the top, then brushed her knuckles with his lips.

She thought for a moment. “Do your alien magic once we’re under the covers.” Rising sluggishly, she stretched and yawned, giving him an excellent view of her breasts and her glorious female curves. “Not that kind of magic.” She eyed him, then gazed at his shaft meaningfully. “Well, that certainly didn’t phase.”

With her natural grace, she moved to the edge of the bed. “The little girl’s room,” she explained.

Magic. She was the magic. He watched her lithely sway from him, her entire form utterly bewitching, a sorcery of pleasure. It never ceased to amaze him and amuse him how few women knew what they did to their men with their very being and beauty.

Disciplined, he shut his eyes, sending his awareness on reconnaissance around them. Sheriff Colgan still lurked nearby, taking swallows of coffee from his large thermos and watching a porno movie on his laptop computer. Finding no other activity, Trail rose from the bed and turned down the covers.

Her scent enveloped him as he slid beneath them. He reveled, wanting to fully snuffle her odors inside his nostrils. But that wasn’t a sight she’d understand, yet. Instead, he reviewed what she’d confessed to him and created backup plans in case his original plan to control the Sheriff went wrong.

On Earth, it was always risky business. In general, no cohesion of spirituality, where the welfare of everyone mattered, existed. And there were any number of different players—alien races from outer space and from other dimensions, ancient races who kept watch, some of them living inside Inner Earth, along with races who had made the immense caverns a permanent home.

It was a chaos of vibration, a crossroads of shadow and light, from the benign to the bizarre, to use the words of George Knapp, one of his favorite Earth investigative journalists.

The apt words were part of the opening description for the paranormal radio show Mr. Knapp hosted on Sunday evenings.

Pondering on his strategy to handle his Seneca, Trail arched his eyebrows. Sliding his hands beneath his head, he leaned back on her pillows. The savage feeling that all blazing hell was about to break loose seized his gut. He would make certain she got as much rest as possible.