Turn to Darkness (Offspring 5.6) (4 page)

“I’ll take care of her.” Saying that felt good. “I just tried her phone but she didn’t answer. I’m on my way to her job site now. Let Cody know.”

“And Darius?”

“Yeah, let him know, too. Just because one of these guys attacked me doesn’t necessarily mean he knows about the rest of you. But someone might be watching Shea’s house. She spotted a car parked at the curb this morning, and the driver took off when she looked his way. Then she thought she saw it again when she came to the fire station to talk to me.”

“That’s not good. Now they know about you.”

“I thought it might be the cops. The detective was definitely eyeing Darius and me as suspects. But now that someone tried to attack me, I’m thinking it’s one of our birth fathers. So obviously there are more of these guys looking for their offspring. Speaking of the cops . . . Darius is the one who killed that guy.”

A moment of silence passed while Tuck no doubt assimilated that tidbit. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? He took a huge risk. And someone
did
see him.”

“Thankfully, she freaked out and lost her cred. Still, not good. Even worse, Darius thinks he’s this big hero, Shea’s ultimate defender. The guy’s unhinged, as you already know. I’m moving into Shea’s tonight and kicking his ass out.”

“I’ll be there. What time?”

“I’m going to play your game when you left me out of your business for my own protection.”

“But—”

“No,” Greer said. “Now you know how it feels.” He cleared his throat. “And now I understand why you did it. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

He hung up and concentrated on driving. He felt an urgent need to get to Shea. Was it because he wanted to see her . . . or because he felt something was wrong?

Chapter Five

S
HEA SURVEYED THE
yard one last time, taking in the fountain centerpiece, carefully planned sections of green grass, and design of the planting beds surrounding it all. “It’s beautiful. Freakin’ beautiful.” At least she could feel some sense of peace amidst the chaos of her life. The scent of roses lifted her spirits even as she pinched off a dead bloom and stuffed it in her pocket. The house, contemporary in design, had just undergone a renovation. Now the yard was shiny and new, too.

José, one of her employees, stepped up beside her, removing his cap as though he were facing the American flag instead of a backyard. “Is good?”

“Is very good. Why don’t you guys take your lunch break, and then head over to the Tankard house? We’ve got a couple more beds to plant, and the rocks will be delivered at about four. I’ll meet you over there later.”

She waved at her crew as they backed out and headed off. One of her rewards was spending a few minutes alone with her creation. She loved the challenges of desert landscaping, of bringing in color and vibrancy with plants that didn’t require a lot of water. She walked down the flagstone path, doing one last inspection, removing a dead leaf here, a stray branch there.

The sun poured down over her, but she was still bundled in her jacket. It wasn’t quite cool enough for her breath to mist in the air, but almost. She jammed her hands into her pockets and walked toward the edge. Though the house wasn’t near any other homes, they had planned for future development by installing an earth-colored wall all around the sides and back.

This was her dream yard, private and quiet. She inspected the one foot of red rocks and plantings meant to break up the expanse of wall, unable to resist running her fingers along the palm fronds. She walked across the grass lawn, a luxury in the desert, for the couple’s grandkids to play on, near the patio set.

She shifted one brick into alignment with her foot. Now it was perfect, every planting bed, the line of brick retaining walls, the staggered rows of plants, the man standing on the other side of the patio— She did a double take.

There
was
a man standing there. His eyes were pale, like hers, and he was probably in his forties.

“Cheyenne.”

Her first thought, a detective. Dressed like one, button-down dress shirt, nice pants. He knew her full first name. But he felt different.

She bit back the urge to say she had nothing to do with that creep’s death. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

No first meeting that started with those words would end well.

He must have seen her fear because he said, “I’m sorry to have startled you. I’m your sire.”

“My . . . what?”

“Your father.”

He took a step closer as she studied his face. But it was his eyes that were the biggest confirmation of that. Cody was the only other person she’d ever seen with violet eyes, making them wonder if they were related.

She dug into her box where she buried her angry feelings. “What’s your name?”

“Ted.”

The name her mother told her. “My mother said my father was married, that he couldn’t leave his wife.”

He continued to step closer. “My wife is mentally ill. Did she tell you that?” Shea nodded, her body still stiff as he joined her.

There were things her mother hadn’t told her, hadn’t known, no doubt: that this man was from another dimension.

Maybe he saw that she already knew that, because he said, “You may have inherited something besides my eyes.”

He meant the psychic ability. It hit her then that he was one of the men who had to take care of his bastard children. Of which she was one.

He’d said he was sorry.

She ran.

He was faster, throwing his body against hers so that they both went down to the ground. Thankfully on the grass and not rock. Still, she slammed hard with his weight on top of her, her breath leaving her lungs in a
whoosh
.

He twisted her around, pinning her hands. “I know what you can do.”

Because he could do it, too. She jerked her hand, concentrating on one of the pots nearby. It moved, but not with enough momentum to do more than scrape across the patio an inch. She needed to push her hand to do much good.

He straddled her, thighs tightening on her legs, injecting a different kind of fear. Memories of Frankie, his friends . . . she couldn’t breathe. Everything around her closed in, leaving only Ted above her. Ted, who wasn’t going to rape her. In fact, his face was drenched in regret. He was going to kill her.

“I just found out about you,” he said. “I wasn’t going to tell them, but damn Frost saw you.”

“Frost?”

“My associate. He knew you were one of us, suspects you’re mine. He’s your friend’s sire, the firefighter. He told Torus, our leader, about you. I’m afraid you’ll have to be terminated. I am sorry.”

Those words again. He meant them. Though Tuck had said the people from the other dimension had no emotions, this man obviously did.

“Please, don’t kill me. Can’t you tell them you did? I’ll leave the area.” She’d beg. Hell, she’d do anything to live.

He shook his head. “I wish I could. But they’ll want to hear about your murder on the news. Especially since you’re a person of interest in the case of the man who was mauled. I’ll make it quick. Cooperate, and with one twist of your neck it will be over.”

He braced his hands on either side of her face.

Something black and cool brushed by her, slamming into the man and throwing them both onto the grass.

A panther. But not any panther. Greer. His body rippled with agitation as he jumped to his four feet, ready to attack.

“Watch out!” she called as the pot she’d been trying to move flew at him.

He moved, but not fast enough. The pot hit him, slicing into his “body.” He bled a black oily substance. Another pot, and then a chair, flew from where the set was. Ted used his hands to send them, like a mad orchestra leader.

Greer rolled to the side as the chair skidded across the stones, and the pot cracked when it hit the ground. She shook herself out of her shock and spotted a shovel leaning against the wall. She took psychic hold of it, tilting it to the side and readying to send it flying. She wasn’t as good at her skills, didn’t use them much.

She didn’t want to hit Greer by mistake. He’d stopped bleeding, now growling in a low way that crawled up her spine. His tail flicked as he centered on his prey. He was scary and sexy all at once, as beautiful as the cat whose shape he’d taken.

Ted was searching for another weapon when Greer launched at him. They fell into one of the trees she’d recently planted with her own hands. Its thin trunk cracked under their weight. Greer’s teeth cut Ted’s throat, but he pushed the cat away with superhuman strength, keeping the fangs from finishing him.

Ted used each hand to do something different: one held off Greer, the other pulled more things to fly at Greer’s back. She tried to throw other things at his missiles. Ted waved his hand at her, knocking her to her ass. When she scrambled upright, the Buddha statue it took all three of them to place among the rocks was flying right at Greer. She couldn’t raise her hand or scream in time to warn him. It knocked Greer off balance enough for Ted to get some bearing. They fought on the ground, crushing more plants, rolling over the sharp rocks in the beds.

Shea kept the shovel ready. She thought about throwing herself into the fight but knew that would be foolish. Fangs and claws flew, scratching Ted’s arms as he pounded Greer’s side with his fist.

She psychically held the shovel aloft a few feet away. Every time she started to bring it close, the two men turned again. Ted punched Greer in the jaw. Could she use both her hands for different things, too? She’d never thought about that. She “slapped” Ted, sending his face jerking to the side. Ted swept both his hands forward, and Greer became the missile. He hit the wall, falling with a
thump
. He got to his feet, but stumbled when he couldn’t put his weight on his front right paw. Arcing her arm over her head, she sent the shovel Ted’s way now that he was an open target. Because he’d been watching Greer, he didn’t see it coming. It hit him in the side of his head, dropping him to his knees.

Still lying on the ground, Ted reached out, his hand shaking, and sent a nearby chair toward Greer. It fell a few feet short of his big, black paws as Ted’s hand dropped to the ground. She picked up the shovel again, waiting for an opportunity. Greer bounded over, his body taut and bristling with energy as he neared the man who appeared near death.

Except he wasn’t, because he launched at Greer again. Man and beast rolled, with Greer on top, then Ted. He managed to thrust out his hand, and Shea followed the direction in which he pointed. The umbrella lifted from the table, hovering before turning like a spear, the point aimed right at Greer’s hide. She pushed against it, letting the shovel drop to the patio deck with a
clang
as she put all of her focus on that deadly projectile.

The umbrella pulled free of her grip and shot toward Greer. She focused on him, pushing hard with her hands. He tumbled off Ted a second before the spear hit. It sank into Ted’s chest. With a sharp gasp, he looked down at the shaft coming out of his chest, and reached for the pole with trembling hands, gripping it. They fell limp to his sides, and he dropped to the ground. Blood poured from a gash in the side of his head. Scratches covered his arms, and his clothes were torn.

She staggered over, hardly able to breathe. Greer as panther stood nearby, studying the man for signs of life. His body was still taut, ready for another resurrection. The man had taken a shovel to the head, after all. She sank to her knees, because they wouldn’t hold her anymore, and with hands just as shaky, checked his pulse. She felt nothing.

She met Greer’s eyes, dark and inky, his mouth open as though he were panting. He morphed back to man.

“You pushed me, didn’t you?” he asked, touching the pole. “He’d thrown this thing at me, and you pushed me out of the way.”

She nodded.

He came over and helped her to her feet. “That was incredible. You saved my life.”

“Then we’re even.”

“You okay?” He smelled like smoke, and soot covered his face.

She shook her head. “That was my father. He said he had to kill me.”

He pulled her against him, rubbing her back. “You’re all right now.” He pressed his mouth on top of her head.

She felt so safe there against his big, hard body, wanting to climb inside him and forget everything that just happened.

No, you can’t do that.

She pushed back, looking at him. “There’s another one. Frost. He’s your birth father. He knows about you. The car parked on the street across from my house—that must have been them. So they saw Darius, too, since we left at the same time. They probably followed me to the fire house. I’m sorry. I exposed you to them.”

He brushed wild strands of hair from her face. “It’s not your fault. We have to get his body out of here before someone shows up. I know the owners aren’t home, but I hope no one else is in there.” He nodded to the back of the house, lots of windows and sliding glass doors all facing them. “There was no way I couldn’t Become and save you. Not only couldn’t I help myself, I couldn’t have reached you in time otherwise. I didn’t even consider someone seeing us back here.”

Just like Tuck had said when he went crazy seeing one of the men they’d fought grabbing Del. Darkness made them lose control. She tried not to think about the implications of that.

“No, everything’s done inside.” She scanned the yard, what had been so pretty and peaceful not long ago. “It’s ruined.”

“That’s the least of our problems.”

“I know.” She smoothed her hair back in a quick, nervous gesture. “I know, but it’s obvious a fight broke out here. Look, there’s blood and—” She turned away from the body, a cold chill shuddering through her.

“Give me your keys. I’ll back the truck up in the yard so I can put him in back. Sorry, Shea, but he won’t fit in mine.”

“No, it’s okay.” She walked robotically around the side, looking at all the new plants that would be crushed beneath her tires.

When they reached the truck, she clutched the keys in her hand. “I can do it.” She needed to be in control of something.

He got into the cab with her, and she backed up as carefully as she could. The man’s body lay in the sunshine, clear as could be in her rearview mirror.

This wasn’t happening. They were not going to be hiding a dead body. Her birth father.

No, she had to keep it together. She put the truck into park and he hopped out.

“I’ll take care of putting it in,” Greer said.

“I’ll help.” She didn’t want him protecting her.

He hefted the top part of the body and she grabbed the ankles. So heavy, even that part of him. Together they steered the body into the back. She covered it with the pile of empty bags and a few of the pallets.

“I don’t know where to get rid of a body.” She laughed, a sound that was suspiciously on the edge of hysterical. “Never had this problem before.”

“There’s a quarry not far from here, and a man-made lake where they dug out the dirt. If they’re closed, we’ll break in and weigh his body down, sink him to the bottom. I can do it, Shea.”

“Don’t. Don’t be all ‘I don’t want little ol’ you to have to deal with this.’ I’m strong, okay.”

He met her gaze. “I know you are.”

A light in the darkest of days.

“But will you let me drive?” he asked.

“Why?”

He nodded to her hands. “Because it’s going to be hard to drive with your hands shaking like that.”

Her whole body was shaking. She couldn’t make it stop. She could, at least, hold back the tears that wanted to burst out. She’d been calm during the altercation, but now she wanted to scream and cry.

“It’s just adrenaline,” he said, watching her. “My stomach’s all knotted up.” He glanced at the body. “I feel like I could puke about now. No big deal, but we can’t afford to attract the attention of a cop.”

She nodded. “Drive.”