Iris Johansen - Dark Summer

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Lust, death, security. You name it." His hand tightened on the wooden arm of the chair. "I think I've found a safety net for you. It's not foolproof. I'd be hiding you in plain sight."

"Where?"

"Carmel. With Addie's guardian. Bridget just called complaining about the depth of security she's facing. Danner will try to strike there, but he'd have massive problems. You'd probably be safer there than anywhere else. You'll be out of it."

She felt a sudden hollowness. "How long would I have to be there?"

"Until it's over. Until Danner is dead. Until I have to move the dogs again."

"You're going to move them?"

"I'll have to do it. I could see it coming. Even without Danner to worry about, there's always Lincoln and whoever else in MI6 has a file. I'm lucky to have been given this many years."

"What about Nick and Janet?"

"I'll try to arrange a package deal." He paused. "It's up to you."

"It always was."

Out of it. He'd said she'd be free of the turmoil and danger that surrounded her and the people she cared about. The dogs of summer weren't her problem or responsibility. Marrok would care for them as he had done for so many years.

And she would not have to face the emotional havoc that was beginning to tear at her when she was with Marrok. Eventually, she could go back to the life she had led before. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? That was the path she should take for all their sakes.

"Well?"

"When would I have to go?"

"Day after tomorrow at the latest. I'm going to Carmel in the morning to set it up."

She thought about it. Why was she hesitating? "I can't make a decision without knowing the circumstances. I won't go anywhere blindly. I've had enough of that."

"Then come with me tomorrow."

She didn't speak for a moment. "I will." The commitment didn't bring her any sense of relief. She felt as if she had taken a step back rather than forward. "What time in the morning?"

"Seven."

She turned toward the door. "I'll meet you here."

"Wait."

She looked back over her shoulder. He'd leaned back into the shadow again, and she could no longer see his eyes. It should have been a relief, but she still was aware of everything about him. She could feel the tension, the watchfulness, the physical impact of his every move.

"I didn't want to offer you a way out," he said roughly. "I was hoping you'd say no. But then that's the kind of bastard I am."

And she'd been tempted to say no, she realized. Crazy. "Seven."

She shut the door and headed for her bedroom.

Ned was lying in front of her door. "What are you doing here? Go back to Marrok."

His tail thumped on the floor.

"Okay, come in with me. I'm a little lonely. Gracie is keeping Janet company these days. Maybe Janet's a little lonely, too."

Ned ran into the room and jumped in the easy chair. Devon knelt down and stroked him. He whined low in his throat and looked up at her. All that love and gentleness and willingness to share…

And he'd been shot once and would be a target as long as Danner was alive. And what about afterward? Who could be trusted not to take the easy way to get that panacea? Just kill the dog. So simple a solution.

Fury seared through her at the thought, and her arms closed around his lean body. "It's not right. It won't happen again," she whispered. "I won't let them hurt you, Ned."

"DOES IT HURT?" PACO ASKED AS he rubbed the salve into the open wounds on his back. "Cry out if you like, Joseph. It would be no shame. You're not twelve yet, and I've had men weep with the pain of this salve ."

It did hurt. The sting was bringing the tears to his eyes. He bit his lip. "I told you, old man, my name's not Joseph. I won't take anything from that bastard ."

" Well, you took something from him tonight. You took a hard beating. I thought you were unconscious when I found you in those rocks tonight," Paco said. "What did your father use on you? "

" His belt."

" Why? "

" I flushed his heroin down the toilet."

" That would do it. Now, what am I to call you? Should I make up a name? I'm good at that. My magic will bring you luck ."

" I'll make up my own name." He shuddered as Paco's finger moved over the lacerated flesh. "And I don't need your magic. It's all phony anyway ."

" Is it?" Paco asked. "You don't believe in magic?"

" No. It's all lies." He closed his eyes. "If you had any real powers, you'd be rich and bossing everyone around and not living on this stinking reservation ."

" Is that what you'd do? "

His hands clenched into fists. "Yes. I'd climb so high no one would ever hurt me again. I'd make them all pay ."

" So much bitterness. It's a good thing you're not a Diyi. You're like a wild animal, ready to destroy the world ."

" Better than a liar, old man."

" If I don't have a magic, why will your back be healed by my salve tomorrow? "

" Herbs aren't magic either. I could probably scratch in the dirt and mix up a better salve ."

" Could you? Perhaps I should let you try, you ungrateful whelp."

" I didn't ask you to help me. You're the one who made me come to this cave." His lids opened, and his gaze wandered to the fire a few feet away. The flames were casting shadows on the wall of the cave, and the smell of the wood and mesquite was acrid in his nostrils. "It's as dirty as my father's shack on the reservation ."

" Caves are not supposed to be clean. The Great Spirit told me so. They are all part of the earth cycle, Joseph ."

" My name's not Joseph. And all that earth bull is an excuse for being lazy ."

Paco chuckled. "That's true. How smart of you to see through me."

" It's not hard. I don't know why the elders don't tell everyone what a faker you are ."

" They have to believe in something. There's not much left." He capped the vial of salve. "And I'm a truly wondrous faker ."

"You admit it?

"Why not? You wouldn't believe anything else, Jos-What shall I call you?"

"Jude."

Paco's thick gray brows rose. "Jude? Why?"

"I like the Beatles."

Paco still looked puzzled .

" 'Hey, Jude,' " he said impatiently. "The song. Don't you know anything?"

"I must have missed that one. Are you taking a last name from the Beatles?"

"No. I found a name in one of those baby-name books at the drugstore in town. Marrok."

"It has a good sound. I heard your mother was Spanish, wasn't she? Is Marrok Spanish?"

"Why would I want to call myself something because of her?" he asked scornfully. "She didn't care anything about me."

"Not Spanish." Paco sat back on his heels. "French?"

Jude was silent and then said, "Marrok was a knight from King Arthur's court."

"A knight? Now that surprises me. It's a little tame."

Jude was immediately defensive. "Not one of those wimpy knights. Marrok was different."

"How different?"

"He was a werewolf."

"And you like werewolves?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

Paco smiled. "But werewolves could be considered magical like me."

Jude shook his head. "It's not the same."

Paco was studying him. "Let's see. A werewolf is weak, without power, until he becomes the beast. Then he takes his victims by surprise and shreds and finally kills them. You must feel very weak when your father whips you like this."