Heat of the Night

"I have to head to McDougal's," Connor said,

"before Rachel calls."

"You can't go. You'll never get past security."

"Watch me." Connor smiled grimly. "I can't read the language of the Ancients—I slept through those classes—but I can break into anywhere and kick the shit out of anyone."

Aidan appeared prepared to argue.

"Trust me, Aidan. It's better this way. Instead of you risking your job, you can play the victim of a kidnapping or something like that. You'll be blameless."

"It's a fucked-up plan," Aidan muttered.

"Hey, I learned those from the best."

Growling low, Aidan nevertheless said, "Go. I'll work on figuring out why she wants this damn trinity so bad."

Stacey reached for the book and opened it, running her fingers over the text. "What is this?"

Needing to have some connection to her, Connor set his hand on her shoulder and leaned over.

"Prior to the creation of virtual databases, our people documented our history in texts, just as you do."

"You can't read this?" she asked, her gaze locked on the turning pages.

"No. Our present-day language is based on it, just as your language is rooted in Latin, but only scholars and the overly curious—like Cross—know enough of its pure form to make sense of it."

"Jesus," she whispered. "I feel like I'm losing my mind."

He glanced up at Aidan who caught his eye and said, "We'll take care of her."

Connor hated that he couldn't be the one to comfort her, but he knew his place in Stacey's life was tenuous at best. She needed consolation and security, and he knew she wouldn't turn to him for either. The best he could do was manage the logistics and dirty work of Justin's retrieval.

He nodded. "Thanks. I'm off to get the things we need."

Stacey twisted in the chair to look up at him.

"What things? What do we need?"

"I'm going after your son. I'll need certain equipment to do it."

Hope filled her eyes. "I'm going with you."

"No way," he said firmly. "It's not safe. You need—"

"Don't tell me it's not safe!" She lunged to her feet. "If Justin is there, I'm there. Did you see the terror on his face? Did you see that freak sitting next to him, hiding behind that fucking mask so I can't identify him to the police?"

"A mask?" Lyssa frowned.

"Yeah, Doc. A mask. With black eyes and fake vampire teeth. It scared me just looking at it. I can't imagine what my baby is going through—"

Stacey's voice choked into silence.

Connor caught her close, unable to do otherwise, but she struggled and broke free. She rounded the island, as if that barrier could keep him from her.

His jaw tensed as her rejection cut deeply.

"A mask…" Lyssa whispered through white lips.

"Oh no!"

Connor could see that she understood the implication. He had no idea how Rachel was controlling the Nightmare-infected Guardian, but regardless, he doubted the leash was tight enough to ensure Justin's safety for long.

The clock was ticking.

Shoving the cell phone in his pocket, Connor turned to leave. "I'm out."

Aidan sank into the chair in front of the duffel.

"I'll make coffee," Lyssa said.

"I'm going to pack," Stacey muttered, leaving the kitchen.

Connor gritted his teeth and ran out the door, preparing himself for the argument ahead. He was not going to risk Stacey. Best she get used to that idea now.

He climbed into Lyssa's Roadster and took off.

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?" ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">