Touching Darkness (15 page)

I
n the dream, Petra found it harder to breathe. The air was foul and thick and heavy in her lungs. But every time she tried to open her eyes, his voice ordered her to stay asleep.

She trusted him, and so she obeyed. She felt her body slump onto the backseat.

Good girl.

She smiled at his words. He would be here soon. Until then, she would sleep.

Just a little while longer.

She tried to nod, but her head felt as light as a…she didn't know. Couldn't think anymore. Her thoughts floated away, leaving her head spinning.

Sleep. So much like death. Sleep. Die. Sleep. Die.

Die? No, not die.
She tried to open her eyes again. Couldn't.

Panic fluttered in her stomach.

Not right. Head hurts. Can't breathe. The smell…can't breathe.

She imagined the smell like a snake, gliding across the seat. Up into her nostrils and down her throat. Into her lungs. Filling them.

Something touched her. Hands on her. Pulling at her. She couldn't fight. Couldn't move at all.

Didn't even care.

Sounds. A man's voice. Angry.

Her body moved on its own. Floating. No, someone lifting it. Carrying her.

The air changed. Air. Not that horrid smell. Cool, fresh air.

Her body being laid on the damp grass. Fingers tapping her face.

“Petra. Petra, come back to me.”

Cheveyo. He'd come at last.

His mouth covered hers, breathing into her. Clean air into her lungs, chasing out the snake. His lips warm, hers so cold. He was breathing her.

“Petra, come back. Don't fall away, babe.”

Another breath. His hand on her face, the other one cradling her head. His words coming on gasping breaths. “Petra. I'm sorry I'm late. But I'm here. Come back. You can't die, dammit.”

The pressure in her chest was easing. He was drawing out that noxious air from her lungs. It burst out in harsh coughs, sending her body jerking upright. His arms came around her, pulling her against his hard body.

“It's all right. Cough it out, babe.”

She had no choice. He held her tight as she coughed so harshly her throat felt raw. The movement sent her head spinning. Nausea came and went, replaced by tears that took her over.

He held her through that, too, stroking her hair and her back and murmuring, “You're okay, babe. You're okay.”

“What…happened?”

“You were in the car in the garage. The engine was running.”

Her head still felt fuzzy, but she knew what that meant. She turned to him, seeing the waves of his dark hair in the moonlight, the exotic slant of his eyes. “That's…what people do when they're trying to kill themselves.”

He nodded.

“But I wasn't…” She tried to remember how she'd gotten to the garage. “I wasn't trying to kill myself.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I know.”

“It was you. Or at least I thought it was you. It's all kind of fuzzy now, but I remember you telling me to wait in the car, that you'd be there soon.” Her eyes widened. “It was one of them. Jerryl.”

He nodded again. “The one who can get into your heads. I had a premonition that woke me up. I saw you in the car dying.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I was almost too late.”

“But you weren't.” She tilted her head. “You live close by?”

“I'm staying close by for now.” Before she could ask more, he said, “I'll be right back. I'm going to get you water from my bike.” He disappeared around the corner of the garage and returned with a bottle. She gulped it.

“Slow,” he said. “Your stomach might be touchy for a bit.”

“He got to me. Even down in the shelter, he got to me.”

“He's got a connection to you, like I do.”

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thank you.”

“I didn't do you a
favor.
” When she backed away to see what he meant, he touched her mouth. “If you died…” He couldn't even finish the sentence, but the fear of that thought was clear in his voice and expression.

She had been dreaming of him ever since he'd brought Zoe to them three and a half weeks ago. She'd felt the connection between them then. Now it engulfed her.

She saw his desire, as she'd seen it before, but also his conflict. “Stay with me.”

“I wish I could.” And he meant that. He stood, holding his hand out to her. “You don't know how hard it is to stay away from you.”

“But why?”

He pulled her to her feet. “You'd better get underground again. He might be able to get into your head, but he still can't penetrate the shield. Not yet.”

“Let's go.” He led her to the shed. He knew where their shelter was, even knew where the secret entrance was. He was one of them though he seemed to have powers beyond those they possessed.

The strongest of those powers was the one to possess her heart.

He paused outside the shed. “If I call you, I'll say the word,
Yaponcha.
That is the wind god in Hopi Indian folklore.”

“Who are you protecting, Cheveyo?”

“All of us.” He rubbed his knuckles just above her heart. “I'll always be with you. Here.” He raised her chin and kissed her gently on the lips. “Be safe. Now, go.”

Reluctantly, she turned and opened the shed door, then made the long trek through the tunnel back to the shelter.

N
icholas sat down to locate Olivia. He expected to see a class full of women in a quiet setting with their legs twisted around their necks. So the crowd of people screaming and the murmurings of an announcer in an auditorium almost knocked him out of the mission.

His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. It was an indoor hockey rink. But no. The floor was concrete and lit in purple. And barreling at him was a group of women in helmets. Two teams, half wearing light blue tank tops, half in bright green. Garter belts, designer panty hose, makeup on some that reminded him of the rock group Kiss. They flew past on four-wheel skates.

What the…?

He looked forward again. One woman careened toward him, aiming for the pack. Olivia! Olivia with a fierce expression, elbows stiff at her sides and chin down, a white star on her helmet. She wore a fluffy black skirt with cartoon characters from
The Flintstones
on it. Her legs were covered in fishnet stockings, and she had ribbons entwined in her two braids. She was on the light blue team: the DC Derby Divas he now saw on her tank top, which revealed an intriguing slice of her flat stomach.

She attempted to skate around the pack, and one of her opponents tried to bounce her out of bounds by knocking
into her sideways. Olivia shoved back, knocking her down and pushing another opponent into one of her teammates, sending them both out of balance. A Diva grabbed Olivia by the hand and pulled her around, giving her momentum to fly ahead.

Just as she was about to break free, one of the green women bumped her, sending her flying forward. She tucked and rolled, then slid across the floor. His heart jumped, and he was about to run to her to see if she was all right when he realized he wasn't
there
to do that. One of her teammates helped pull her to her wheeled feet.

Olivia, none the worse for her fall, skated toward the pack again. He couldn't help the grin across his face. She kept on surprising him. He wasn't sure exactly what she was doing, but it intrigued the hell out of him.

She emerged from the front of the pack and tapped her hipbones with her hands. A whistle sounded, and the group headed toward the sidelines. Olivia bent one knee and slid in, trading hand slaps with the next group to get into position.

Wary of spending too much time and tiring himself out, he pulled back to pinpoint her location. He would be seeing her soon enough.

 

Olivia hated when the bout ended. She still hadn't expelled all her piss and vinegar. The locker room's energy was intense, since they'd won, and so was the smell of menthol. The girls compared bruises, but no one had broken anything, always a good thing.

They didn't have showers at the arena, and most of the girls went to a bar where they mingled with fans.

“Great jammin',” a teammate said as she stretched.

Because she was small and fast, she was one of the jammers, the player who scored the points by jamming through the pack. Blocking was more suited for the tougher, bigger women, like Candy Ripper, who was six feet tall and had Mohawk spikes that fit through the holes in her helmet.

Scornacopia was lying on the carpet, groaning. “Man, that's the second time I made love to my wheels.” A term for wheels in the vagina, Olivia had learned but had been fortunate enough not to experience.

“Damn, Liv, you were a ball buster out there tonight.” Angie, also known as Akill-eaze, laughed. “Someone piss you off?”

Olivia gave her a twisted smile. “You could say that.”

“Must be a guy.”

Two men, actually.

Olivia just laughed, unwilling to say anything more. She was new to the DC Divas Roller Derby team, though she knew she was going to continue with the team until her body couldn't take it anymore. The aggression, the camaraderie, the fun of being someone else, was an allure she would not give up anytime soon. She had told the girls on the team little about herself even as she longed to reach out. These women, from all walks of life, were a lot more fun than the few women she occasionally socialized with. What she wanted was a girl buddy, someone to share secrets and talk with about men.

Like a mom. Or a sister. Or her cousin. The women in her family weren't particularly interesting, all concerned with politics or shopping, things that didn't interest Olivia. Her aunt, Leon's wife, was the closest woman in her life to a mother. When Olivia was young, Eileen had taken an interest in her. She'd wanted a girl but couldn't have any more than her one son. Olivia had, for a time, become her surrogate child. But Eileen's constant reprise of, “If I had my own girl…” had finally made Olivia uncomfortable enough to put distance between them. She clearly had reminded Eileen of the daughter she'd never had, and over time her aunt's self-pity had taken on a bitter taste.

“You sure you don't want to go to Barnaby's?” one of her teammates called out as she headed to the door.

“I'd love to, but I can't tonight.” She changed out of the “uniform” that let her be something outrageous for a few hours.

Like Nicholas had.

Stop!

But there was an annoying part of her that couldn't let him go. It didn't make sense that a guy who volunteered to find the remains of missing people would become a terrorist.

She had to get a cab to the yoga studio where her car was parked, where she'd pretended to go in, then slipped out the back way. A ridiculous but necessary detour to throw off the guard her father insisted follow her everywhere. If she stayed in class any longer, he might become suspicious.

Would it be so bad if her father found out? Maybe it was time to come out as a kick-ass roller-derby girl.

Once the cab dropped her behind the building, she entered from the rear entrance and out the main door. Her blue BMW was parked at the edge of the lot, the guard standing beside his car. She'd drawn the line at his riding with her. He was big and creepy, a former cop who'd lost his job because he'd been too violent. Yeah, that made her feel safe. She liked her driving time, cranking whatever satellite channel suited her mood and relaxing for about the only time she ever could. Now she needed something to wind her down.

She pulled into the shopping plaza that housed the coffee shop where she always stopped on the way home. The bulldog got out but leaned against his car and waited for her to go inside. Thank God.

She had a bad feeling her father was hoping Nicholas would make a move on her so the guard could take him out.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the place, though she liked her flavored instant coffees best. She stepped up to the counter and ordered, then walked over to
the restroom. She passed the tall silk tree next to the entrance and pushed open the door. Something rustled behind her. She started to turn to see what it was. A man pushed her into the bathroom and closed the door behind them. She inhaled to scream, and his hand went over her mouth. She heard the door lock click.

She did a hip check on him, turning slightly and nailing him. With him not being on skates, it wasn't as effective. He barely moved. She twisted and tried to jam her elbow into his stomach.

Then she saw her assailant. Nicholas! He was dressed in black, and he had scratches on his face. Her eyes widened in both shock and anger. He
was
a terrorist! His body was pressed against hers, his hand around the back of her head and over her mouth. His palm was damp and smelled of soap.

She kicked, tried to block with her head, illegal moves she couldn't use at roller derby. She managed to knock him off balance, but he was too strong to shove away.

“Livvie, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry to scare you like this, but it was the only way I could talk to you. You've got a damned bodyguard. Is that because of
me
?”

He wasn't going to hurt her. She grabbed on to those words and the regret in his eyes.

“I've got to tell you something life-and-death important and then I'll leave. I can't afford for you to scream and alert your bodyguard, because if you do, he'll shoot me. You know that, don't you?”

She nodded, and as much as she hated Nicholas at that moment, the thought of him gunned down tore at her.

She felt his hold on her loosen, and she slammed him into the wall. Then she started beating on his chest, all of her pain and fury unfurling. “How could you turn traitor? You didn't just betray my father and our country, you betrayed me. You charmed me and made me feel something for you.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “You used me to get information! And now you're one of them!”

He caught her wrists. “I never used you. I liked you before I ever talked to them.” He took a ragged breath. “I liked you more than I wanted to.”

How dare he look so damned sincere!

He continued. “I did betray your father, but only because he's not the good guy. He's using us to kill people. That's what his program is about, political assassination. The Rogues aren't terrorists. They only want the truth about their parents and the program they were in twenty-five years ago. Your father wants us dead because he doesn't want us to expose his program. He had Robbins killed for the same reason.”

“Shut up.”

“I'm not here to convince you of anything. I'm here to make sure you're safe. Listen to me. You remember Lucas? You helped him when your father held him prisoner. You asked about my special skills. His is getting premonitions that come out in drawings. He drew you…being strangled. It's going to happen this Saturday.”

The emotion in his words, along with the words themselves, shivered through her. “Premonitions? You mean like…psychic premonitions?”

“Exactly.”

She blinked. “I don't believe in that stuff.”

“I need you to believe for just one day. Your life depends on it.” As crazy as it sounded, he looked dead serious. “We can't see who it is, but it's not one of the Rogues. They don't kill unless they have to. This is a killing for pleasure. I want you to stay at the estate all day Saturday. You should be safe there.”

“I'm already staying at the estate full-time now, because of you. My father thinks you're going to hurt me.”

“I won't ever hurt you.”

“Too late.”

She saw a flash of pain in his eyes. It was quickly replaced by confusion. “I need to know what your plans are for Saturday.”

“I don't really have any plans. I almost hate going out with a guard shadowing me. I probably would just stay around the estate.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you'd be safe there…unless it's someone who's at the estate. Has anyone given you the creeps?” At her skeptical expression, he pressed further. “Humor me.”

“Fine. I don't like any of the guards, but none have given me the willies. The guard assigned to me is a bit, well, he has some violence in his past. He used to be an overzealous cop.”

“Hell. And you're alone with him. He could attack you and then blame it on one of us.”

She shivered. “You're scaring me.”

“Exactly what I want to do. The men your father hires are renegades by nature. Mercenaries.”

“But their background checks revealed no records of violence against women.”

“That just means none of them have been caught.” He leaned closer, his nose touching the tip of hers. “The premonition is based on your current plans. Promise me you'll change them. Better yet, stay at your place, lock the doors. And get a different guard assigned to you. But still, be very careful. Don't put yourself in a position to be alone with any of those guys.”

She didn't know what to make of his frantic warning. Damn him! And damn her, too, because her body was reacting to his, tingling where they were pressed together. Her heartbeat pounded inside her chest, but it wasn't all anger and fright.

He said, “You'd better get going before your bodyguard gets suspicious.”

She opened the door, but he touched her shoulder, and she turned around.

“Don't trust anyone,” he said.

“You taught me that lesson well.”

He winced, and she turned and stalked out.

“Ma'am, your chai latte!” the barista called out to her.

She turned to grab it, spotting Nicholas standing next to the silk tree he'd obviously been hiding behind before, his expression bereft. She snatched up the cup and walked to the door.

The guard was walking in. “You all right? Saw some guy bothering you.”

Her heart nearly stopped. She could tell him who that guy was. That's what her father would want her to do. What she should do. But that part of her that didn't believe Nicholas was a traitor, who knew what his fate might be, stopped her.

“Just some guy trying to pick me up.”

She walked to her car and held her breath as the guard remained near the door looking in. Nicholas was just out of sight. The bulldog reached for the door.

“I've got to get back,” she called out, but he walked inside.

She dropped the cup and followed, her throat tight with fear. He walked right toward the restroom. Nicholas wasn't there. The guard yanked open the door.

It was empty.

She looked around. Where was he?

The guard opened the door bearing a sign that read
EMPLOYEES ONLY.
One man, sitting at a small table eating dinner, jumped at the sight of him.

“Some guy come through here?” the guard asked.

“No.”

Her gaze went to the exit door and then to the side window where an old car tore out of the parking lot. The guard returned and leaned down into her face. “Mr. Darkwell said some guy might try to contact you, and that you might cover for him.”

“I wouldn't cover for that jerk.” She turned and went back to her car. The bulldog would either keep looking or follow her. Either way, she was going back to the estate.

She slammed her car door shut. “Dammit, Nicholas. You really are one of them now. Go ahead and believe their lies. They're up to something. And I'm going to have to tell my father about it.” Because as much as she couldn't stand the thought of something happening to Nicholas, she would lose much more if her father was killed, and she could have stopped it. She would wait, though, until Nicholas was able to get to safety.