Iris Johansen - Dark Summer

"Very efficient. You've obviously been taught well." Devon stopped and turned around to look back. She'd killed a man only a short time before in that house. Or, if she'd not done it herself, she'd meant it to happen, and that was the same thing.

"Regrets?" Bridget's gaze was on her face.

How did she feel? Lester had been a torment and a threat. If he'd not died, then he might have gone on destroying everyone around him. Yet to kill a living person was a terrible thing. "Of course there are regrets. I was forced to take a life." She headed for the car. "But I'd do it again." She got into the car. "Now where do you think you're going to take me?"

"That's up to you." Bridget got in the driver's seat and started the car. "I used you, and I got you hurt. Now you make your own decisions. Not that you wouldn't anyway." She grimaced. "I should have told Marrok that when he wanted you tucked away safe somewhere."

"Screw Marrok," Devon said. "I can't believe he told you to do that to me."

"Yes, you can. You've tapped his protective streak." She looked away. "And a few other reservoirs of feeling that he probably didn't know he had."

"He had no right . He's been moving me around to suit himself since the moment I met him."

"Tell that to him." Bridget took out her phone. "And I have to talk to him right away. Lincoln had a chance to make a call to Marrok, and he's probably ready to explode. Lincoln probably didn't tell him about Danner, but I'd bet I figured prominently in that conversation." She dialed the number. "Marrok, don't talk. Devon is fine. I'm going to tell you what happened and why. Then you can vent all you please."

MARROK COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. Every word Bridget was saying was stoking the fury that had been burning in him since Lincoln's call.

Fury and a fear that was eating at him until he couldn't think straight.

Vent? He wanted to roar, tear into Bridget and everyone else who stood in his way.

"I may just kill you, Bridget," he said through his teeth.

"You'll do what you have to do," Bridget said. "You handed Devon to me on a golden platter, and I saw a way to use her to rid us of Lincoln."

"Without consulting me."

"You wouldn't have let me do it. Now it's a fait accompli. Lincoln's dead. We evidently got a bonus in getting rid of Lester Enright. And Devon didn't get hurt." She paused. "Well, maybe a little hurt. She's got a cut on her head when Lincoln hit her."

"How bad?"

"Superficial."

"I want to talk to her."

A moment passed before Bridget came back on the phone. "She doesn't want to talk to you. She may be as upset with you as she is with me. Devon, will you please say a few words to him so that he won't think I'm lying about you?"

Devon came on the line. "I'm fine," she said coolly. "As far as I know, everything Bridget said is true."

"What about your head? Is it-"

"Devon handed the phone back to me," Bridget said.

Shit.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get her."

"If she wants to see you, she'll come to you," Bridget said. "She'll make her own decisions. Between us we've done enough manipulating." She hung up.

Marrok muttered a curse as he hung up. Profound relief had been followed by anger and frustration.

"Is Devon okay?" Walt asked.

"I think so. She wouldn't talk to me." He muttered a curse. "Who could blame her? Not only did I let Bridget set Devon up, but I wasn't there when she was cornered by Lester Enright."

"Ugly."

Marrok nodded jerkily. "Bridget killed Lincoln. She was using Devon as bait to trip him up."

"You believe her?"

"Yes," Marrok said grudgingly. "I can see Bridget doing it."

"What do we do now?"

That was the question. He wanted to call Bridget back and tell her to bring Devon to him. He wanted to go after Devon and stay with her and keep her safe. He couldn't do either. He'd burned his bridges, and now he had to pay for it.

"Wait. I want to make sure Devon is safe before we make a move on Danner."

BRIDGET PULLED OVER TO THE SIDEof the road after she hung up. "I told Marrok you were going to have to make your own decisions, but it has to be soon."

"Don't try to pressure me, Bridget," Devon said.

"Why not? I'm under pressure. Marrok is under pressure. Everything is going to move fast now. I don't care what you decide to do, but I don't want to have to drop you off without being sure you'll be safe. Do you want to be done with us? Shall I take you to an airport so that you can go back to Denver?" She paused. "Or do I call Walt and tell him to take you to Marrok in Arizona."

Devon stared at her. "Arizona?"

"Paco's canyon. Marrok decided to go to his old stomping grounds to lure Danner."

Devon's lips tightened. "He didn't tell me."

"And that makes you angrier."

"Hell yes."

"Then make a decision."

Devon gazed out the window at the rolling hills. "You want me to go back to Denver."

"I think it's safer for you. I'm done with trying to convince you. Make up your own mind."

Easy to say, Devon thought. She was brimming with resentment at Marrok for treating her like a child who had no will of her own. Yet resentment toward him was only the tip of the iceberg. Devon was silent, letting the memory of what had happened in that hacienda today flow back to her. "I'm mad as hell. Danner sent Lester to torture me just because it amused him. He liked the idea. Lincoln said he and Danner were alike, and I believe it. He's a terrible, terrible man." She shook her head in disbelief. "He doesn't even know me, and he did that. I can imagine what he'd do to Marrok and the dogs. I'm not going to let that son of a bitch get near them." Her hands clenched into fists. "I had all kinds of bullshit noble reasons to stay here before. I was going to help save the dogs, help the human race. But I don't feel noble now. I just want to take Danner down and keep him from hurting anyone else. No matter what Marrok did, it's not going to change how I feel about that."

"You're going to go to Marrok."

"He's got the dogs. I'm going to be there when Danner goes after them."

"Then there's something you should know." Bridget looked straight in front of her. "Do you remember I told you that I'd had no vision of your death?"

Devon stiffened. "Yes."

"Well, it happened. A clear picture. You'll be shot in the chest. Blood. I saw you falling to the ground." She paused. "It was night, but I could tell it was desert country, and there were huge red boulders behind you."

Devon felt her stomach twist. "Paco's canyon…"

"But if you don't go there, it might not happen."

"And it might happen somewhere else."

Bridget whispered, "You don't believe me."

"I believe you believe that what you thought was a vision will take place."

"But you're still going?"

"I can't hide. There's too much at stake. Lord knows, I don't want to go." She shivered. "You've scared me."

"You're scared? I saw it. And I don't know how to stop it. But there has to be a way. I can't go on if there isn't."

Devon had never heard such a depth of despair as in those last words. "It must be terrible for you. You say you've tried to stop it before?"

"Of course I have," she said fiercely. "I've never been able to do it. If I warn someone, they laugh or ignore me. I'm like that Cassandra in mythology, the one whose curse was to have no one believe her prophecies. And if I try to step in myself, it doesn't work. I never know enough. Or there's some element that pops up that keeps me from interceding. Dammit, what good is knowing if I can't prevent it?"

"It's been like that all your life?"

"Since I was seven."

"And your parents knew you had this talent?"

She nodded. "Psychic abilities sometimes run in families, and it certainly did in mine. So they weren't surprised. But I was just a kid, and they didn't pay any real attention when I told them not to go to Dublin that day. I didn't know why I didn't want them to go. I was just afraid." She looked out the window. "A bridge collapsed, and their car went into the river."