Desert Guardian (3 page)

"Mr.
Reed—"

"Call
me Sam."

"Sam,
if I'm to purchase your services to save my brother, how do I know you're
qualified for the job?"

He
barked a laugh. "Haven't I impressed you yet?"

She
shook her head. "Not enough. You're a big boy who can throw his weight
around. So what? That particular talent won't help my brother. He's sure to
feel vulnerable, frightened, maybe even psychotic."

He
stared at her for a second, his gray eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. "I
see you know something about ex-cultist recovery."

"Very
little," she admitted, wishing she had read more than the one article in
Psychology Today
. But she'd had no idea
Jake's situation was this serious. She suddenly realized the brother she'd
known her entire life might now be a total stranger to her. She clutched her
tiny pendant of lavender rhinestones, the cheap metal setting pricking her
fingers. A childhood gift from Jake, it was an ugly piece of jewelry but one of
her dearest possessions. "I know enough to understand that Jake may no
longer be the feisty, fun-loving guy I grew up with."

Sam
nodded. "And I could help him on his journey back to the real world. I'm a
counselor, Kelly. I only resort to physical force when necessary."

"Just
because you survived a cult yourself doesn't make you a qualified psychologist."

"But
four years of graduate school does." He grinned. "Thanks to federal
grants, a college football scholarship, and very generous foster parents, I was
able to graduate with my doctorate from Berkeley five years ago at the age of
twenty-three."

Now
she was impressed. She needed Sam to rescue Jake, and it was obvious he wasn't
in the cult intervention business for his health. This was a serious career for
him. Could she afford him? She didn't make much as a phys ed teacher and had
emptied her meager savings account before coming to California, thinking she
might be able to buy Jake back from the Star Mother cult. But those
negotiations never had a chance to happen, thanks to Mr. Big Shot Arrow. If he
hadn't interfered, she and Jake might be on their way home to Phoenix right
now.

"Maybe
if I offered the cult money, they'd turn Jake loose," she said.

"Don't
bet on it. I know for a fact they won't consider anything less than five
figures—as a donation, of course. Do you have that kind of money?"

"No."
So much for that idea. "So what would it cost me to have you rescue Jake?"

He
scowled and chewed his bottom lip. "My standard fee is eighty dollars an
hour, or eight hundred dollars a day."

"No
problem." Kelly squirmed in her seat, thinking of the one thousand dollars
she had with her. If Jake's rescue took more than a day, she could owe Sam the
rest, maybe pay him off in installments. They'd work something out.

An
agitated whine came from the backseat. She peered behind her to see the coyote
crane his neck to look out the back window.

"What's
his problem?" she asked.

"We've
got company." Sam threw a glance over his shoulder and, sure enough, three
leather-clad riders mounted on motorcycles were swiftly gaining on them. Two held
large hand guns aimed in their direction. "Hold on!"

****

Sam
rammed his foot onto the accelerator while holding out his right arm to brace
Kelly to her seat. He felt her breasts heave, her heart battering against his
hand like a caged bird trying to escape.
Way
to cop a feel, Reed.

"Stay
calm!" he shouted over Cody's yippish barks. "They only want to
intimidate us."

A
bullet shrieked past his left ear.

"You
call that intimidation?" she yelled. "I call it attempted murder!"

He
pushed her head down as another bullet winged by, this one shattering his
windshield. He looked to his left to see the gun barrel aimed at his head, and
ducked just before another shot was fired.

Think, damn it!
He
swerved to the left, narrowly missing the motorcycle and its rider, who had
anticipated the move. Sam hoped the cyclist to his right was less prepared. He
yanked the steering wheel toward the other rider and clipped the bike's fender,
sending both the motorcycle and its surprised rider tumbling
ass-over-tea-kettle across the highway.

Kelly
struggled to sit up. "What's happening?"

He
shoved her head back down. "Stay put."

The
next bullet pinged the steering wheel, coming so close to his hand that his
index finger stung from the impact. He wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell of
burnt plastic. Eyes focused straight ahead, he jerked the Jeep to the left
again, this time feeling a thunk as his fender connected with the bike. The
rider yelled a curse, and Sam watched in the sideview mirror as the bike slid
out from beneath him. It skidded across the asphalt in a golden spray of sparks
as its rider somersaulted off the road. The third biker turned around and sped
back the way he'd come, probably to report to his masters.

"Is
it over?" she asked.

"Yeah,"
he said, breathless. "It's over." The adrenalin pumping through him
felt like fire in his veins, and he couldn't deny how good it felt. He loved
the rush of riding the edge, being so close to danger he could taste it. Mouth
dry and heart battering his ribs, he told Kelly, "Open the glove box and
get my cell phone."

She
cocked her head as if she didn't understand.

"Hurry.
Those guys are hurt." Or maybe even dead. "Call 911. Tell them what
happened, that we're on Highway 62 near Joshua Tree."

She
did what he instructed, and he slowed to make a U-turn. He had to go back and
see how bad the fallen bikers were hurt.

"Don't
go back, Sam. They tried to kill us."

"They
couldn't help themselves," he told her dryly. "They're worker bees in
the hive and just do what they're told." Memories of his days with Star
Mother flashed by in a blur, making him recall the robotic sentries and how the
men had stoically completed their duties as prescribed. Like zombies, they
performed in a trance-like state, suddenly snapping out of it once a task was
done. Poor, pathetic idiots.

Though
the men who had attacked them were out of their cult uniform, there was no
denying who they were. What Sam didn't understand was why the sentries had been
told to kill both him and Kelly. That made no sense. The cult would want Kelly
back in one piece to die with her brother, and it was possible they'd want him
as well. The clock ticked as the fairytale starship made its way to Earth's
atmosphere. Killing him and Kelly before the day of departure went totally
against Star Mother's plan for returning the original crew to their "home
planet," as ridiculous as that was. So if Star Mother's doctrine didn't
justify the assassination, whose idea was it?

****

"Von?"
Valya stalked toward the pale man seated on a broad wooden chair upholstered in
red velvet. To keep her temper in check, she inhaled the calming scent of
sandalwood incense that burned in a pewter bowl beside him.

She
stood rigid before her arrogant husband of more years than he deserved, but Von's
pale blue eyes stared past her to focus on empty air. He feigned blindness,
pretending not to see her, as though his mind were miles away. He'd always been
fond of the dramatic.

The
austere space inside the tent glowed with soft yellow light from a half-dozen
kerosene lamps, and paisley pillows lay in scattered heaps across the sandy
floor. To get his attention, she kicked one aside. "I won't tolerate being
ignored, Von. Now tell me. Why did you do it?"

"I
wasn't ignoring you, Valya, dear. I was meditating." He shifted in his
chair, his satin robe flowing around his feet like liquid silver. He let his
ice-blue gaze settle on her, his haughty expression making her hackles rise.

His
skin was so white that spidery blue veins showed through the thin flesh at his
temples. He cocked his head, his alabaster hair falling forward to cast his
sallow cheeks in shadow. He'd be a handsome man if he wasn't such a
sanctimonious ass.

The
corners of his lips twitched, but he didn't smile. He managed to look amused,
nonetheless. "I assume you're talking about the ambush on the highway? I
only did what had to be done. The Arrow is a danger to us, and so is the woman.
They could ruin everything. Let's not forget our voyage is only four days away."

Annoyed,
Valya sighed. "I don't give a damn about Sam Reed," she said, the lie
bringing sudden heat to her face. "But you must realize the woman is Jake's
sister, which means she's a direct descendant of the original starship crew."

"You
don't give a damn about Sam Reed?" Von paused, his brows furrowed in a
mock frown, as if giving the matter serious thought. "Don't lie to me,
Valya. You were besotted with Sam when he was a teenager and still belonged to
us. I doubt a day goes by when you don't think about him." He leaned
forward, his long, pale fingers reaching out to touch her cheek. "It's
best that you forget him and start thinking about
our
future."

She
jerked from his touch then turned around so he couldn't see her frustration.
Damn him! Von was pathetically jealous, hating Sam's zest for life and his
courage to stand up to Star Mother. Valya had never blamed Sam for leaving
their communal family before his indoctrination. After all, he had come back
five years ago, if only for one night. A night she would never forget.

"Don't
you think it's about time you got over your silly schoolgirl crush?" Von's
pallid lips stretched in a condescending smile. "Sam never cared about you,
and you know it."

She
did know it. But that didn't stop her from dreaming about him. She still
recalled the heat of his touch, his strong lips, his powerful hands that knew
more than they had a right to. And ever since then, she'd fantasized what her
life would have been like had he stayed.

She
whirled on Von, hoping her alligator smile looked as menacing as she meant for
it to. "My 'crush,' as you call it, is none of your business."

He
slammed his fist on the arm of his makeshift throne. "I want him dead."
He grimaced, his teeth bared in a snarl of pure hatred. "As for the woman,
you're right. She needs to share the final journey with her brother. But Sam
Reed's life is over."

How
dare he speak to her this way? She deserved so much better, and it was about
time he realized how unworthy he was. "You're a weak, jealous fool, Von.
Too weak to rule our people and too weak to father children for our world. Sam
is more of a man than you'll ever be."

Her
words brought more color to Von's face than she'd seen in years. His square jaw
went rigid, and his eyes glazed with fury. But his theatrics were unimpressive.
When she didn't respond to the posturing meant to make her quiver with fear, he
stood and wordlessly tromped across the sand-dusted floor of the tent. Without
looking back, he vanished through the curtained doorway. What a relief to be
rid of him for the night.

Valya
smiled. She'd have her way. She always did. And now that Sam had reentered her
life, perhaps she would have him, too.

Exhaustion
made Sam's eyes feel sticky as he concentrated on driving along the narrow dirt
road. Just another half mile and they would arrive at his cabin in the woods.

After
the state patrol had finished with them, Sam and Kelly collapsed into the Jeep
like a couple of zombies. He’d barely had the key in the ignition when he'd
heard soft snores coming from the passenger seat. He didn't have the heart to
dump her at a hotel with a target on her back now that he knew the kind of
danger she was in. The target on his own back was just as obvious. Those men
were shooting to kill.

Kelly
hadn't wakened once during the hour's drive to Big Bear, and he couldn't help
gazing at her sleeping face now. She looked so delicate in sleep, childlike and
innocent. He doubted her true nature was anything so subtle.

He
blinked to clear the grittiness from his eyes and thought back to their narrow
escape on the highway. Neither of the men Sam had bumped off the road had been
conscious when he’d checked on them. Their motorcycles had appeared totaled,
but the Star Mother cult's sentries were very much alive. It was a good thing
the paramedics had arrived within minutes of Kelly's 911 call.

They
had spent nearly an hour answering the state patrol's questions. The officers
balked at his insistence over who was responsible. Sure they knew about the
Star Mother cult, one of the patrolmen had said. Bought a dozen brownies and a
poundcake at their fundraising bake sale in Joshua Tree last Christmas. A right
fine bunch of folks who wouldn't hurt a flea. This looked like a serious case
of road rage, if you asked him. Have any priors, Mr. Reed?

Road
rage. Yeah. Right.

A
nomadic cult, Star Mother rarely moved more than once every three months, and
always to somewhere in the desert of California or Nevada. They had only been
in Yucca Valley three weeks, so this disruption put a real crimp in their
routine. Before Sam set out tomorrow to retrieve Kelly's brother, he'd have to
get a lead on the cult's new location. They wouldn't dare stay another day in
Yucca Valley for fear of Sam finding them again. Locating their new camp would
take time, several phone calls, and an in-depth hunt through UFO message boards
and chat rooms on the Internet.

He
pulled into the dirt driveway and parked the Jeep in front of the cabin. He
checked on Kelly one more time. She hadn't moved. Her honey-colored skin seemed
to glow in the soft light that shone from the deck's pole lamp. If he leaned
down and brushed his lips across her cheek, would she taste as sweet as the
honey color that coated her skin? He sensed something special about this woman with
a fiery spirit that rivaled his own. Right now he felt content just to look at
her, relieved that she was here with him and no longer a hostage of the cult. Aching
to get closer, he ran the backs of his fingers lightly over her gleaming mane
of chestnut hair.

Her
eyes popped open, and he yanked his hand back. She shot him a startled look
before sitting up.

"We're
home," he said, nodding at the small cabin that appeared slightly sinister
in the dim light from the lamp. "My home, anyway. Are you awake enough to
stand?"

She
craned her neck from side to side, as if working out the kinks. Eyes narrowed,
she gave him a quick once-over. "I'm fine. I thought you were dropping me
off at my father's hotel."

"Tomorrow.
Consider tonight a free stay at a cozy cabin in the woods on behalf of your new
bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?
And who are you guarding me from?"

"Star
Mother cult assassins, just in case they come looking for you."

She
seemed to think this over before nodding. "Fine. I'm too tired to argue
with you. Did I snore?"

"Like
a drunken lumberjack."

She
curled her lip at him and climbed from the Jeep. Placing both hands on her
hips, she arched her back and stretched from side to side. Raising her arms as
she stood on her toes, her shorts hiked up to reveal shapely thighs and a hint
of booty that peeked a half-inch below the hem. He enjoyed the view.

It
was a peaceful night, without even a breeze to rustle the lofty pine branches
that bowed gracefully over the cabin's roof. Sam was usually calmed by the
silence that surrounded his mountain home, but tonight it unnerved him. The
altercation on the highway had put him on edge. "We'll go back for your
rental car tomorrow. Where did you leave it?"

"Truck
stop," she said, quick and choppy, as if afraid a complete sentence would be
a conversation. "They wouldn't let me drive it to the campsite."

Sam
nodded. He'd figured as much. They wanted her stranded without a way to escape.
He reached in the backseat to grab her pack, and Cody hopped out at the same
time. Seeing the animal brought a surprised yelp from Kelly.

"Sorry,"
she said. "I forgot it was back there. It startled me."

"He's
a
he
, not an
it
." Sam watched the coyote disappear into the forest. "And
his name's Cody."

"Sorry,"
she said again, allowing some distance to collect between them before following
him up the steps to the front door.

When
the door opened from the inside, Sam instinctively reached for his hunting
knife. He unsheathed and brandished it at a startled, gray-haired man, who
emitted a yelp that sounded very much like Kelly's.

She
groaned. "Damn it, Dad. What the hell are you doing here?"

Still
looking surprised, Frank Bancroft said, "I'm here to take you and your
brother home. Didn't Mr. Reed tell you?"

"Yeah,
he told me." She glared at her father, chin raised and arms crossed over
her chest. "Jake hasn't been at the camp for two days. We're going back
for him tomorrow."

Frank
grinned, his horse-like teeth practically glowing in the lamplight. He stood
half a head taller than Kelly, his pot-bellied torso balanced on a pair of
spindly legs. His khaki slacks were belted just below his rib cage, causing the
hem to rise a few inches above flood level. "I'm glad you're safe. And I'm
sure Jake will be with us soon, thanks to Mr. Reed."

Kelly
rolled her eyes and gripped Sam's jacket more firmly around her shoulders. "Can
we go inside now? It's freezing out here."

Sam
regarded Frank with an expression of suspicion, his jaw clenched. "How'd
you get in my house?"

"Your
housekeeper let me in before she left."

Sam
continued to stare at the man, his eyes hot, his face set like concrete. "I
don't like trespassers, Mr. Bancroft."

"I
meant no harm," her father said, though his tone was tinted with disdain.

"Can
we just go inside? Please?"

Frank
followed Kelly and Sam through the doorway. "Your housekeeper doesn't talk
much."

"Consuela
doesn't talk at all." Sam stalked into the kitchen and flipped on a light.
"Coffee?"

"I'd
love some," Kelly said, and plopped down on a plump couch heaped with
Indian blankets. She caught a hint of the same pine scent that clung to the
jacket she'd borrowed, plus the faint odor of furniture polish, evidence of his
housekeeper's recent visit.

She
peered around the small, rustic room with walls like stacked logs. A moss-rock
fireplace nestled in the center of one wall, and a modest fire crackled and
sputtered in its depths. She leaned forward and fanned out her hands to bathe
them in the fire's warmth. "You made yourself right at home, didn't you,
Dad?"

Frank
glanced at Sam and held up his hands. "Wasn't me. Your housekeeper made
the fire before she left."

Sam
nodded, his expression stony. "I didn't expect you to be here. I told you
I'd call your hotel as soon as Kelly and her brother were safe."

"I
couldn't wait," Frank said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Kelly,
I have plane tickets for you and your brother with an open departure date. So
whenever the two of you are ready—"

She
jumped to her feet and began to pace, her brisk footsteps beating the hardwood
floor like angry hammers. Who the hell was this man and what had he done with
her father? He'd never given a damn about Jake before. Or about her, for that
matter. She tossed her dad an angry glare.

"Honey,
please calm down. I can explain—"

She
shot another look at her father, and that shut him up. "Not once in my
entire life have you called me honey. What's going on?"

Frank
cast an uncertain look in Sam's direction. "A man can change, can't he?"
he asked, his voice gruff and more like the man she knew.

She
crammed her hands in the pocket of Sam's jacket, searching unsuccessfully for a
cigarette. Though she'd quit five years ago, smoking had been her automatic
response to family stress. Addressing Sam, she said, "Remember the cop
telling us about the brownies he bought at one of the cult's bake sales? An
innocent-sounding front, wasn't it?" She pointed a finger at her father. "He's
a walking bake sale. Sugar coating the rottenness underneath."

"Kelly!"
her father said with surprise and anger in his voice. If he got mad enough, he
just might hit her. She wondered what Sam would do if he did.

She
laughed. "Who are you trying to kid, old man? Less than a year ago, you
kicked your own son out of the house just for exploring who he was."

A
look of disgust crawled over Frank's face. "I won't allow that kind of
behavior in my home."

Sam
cocked his head, looking wary and prepared. "What behavior?"

"My
father caught Jake holding hands with another boy." She glared at her
father. "Whether or not it meant anything is beside the point, Dad. Jake
is your son, and you turned your back on him. He hadn't even finished high
school, and you threw him out along with all his clothes, his comic books, his
computer, everything. You changed the locks so he couldn't get back in the
house." She heaved a breath, her chest aching as her heart broke all over
again. "And I wasn't there to stop you."

Her
father stared, eyes wounded. "I'm sorry for what I did. I want Jake to
know how sorry I am, that I forgive—"

"He
didn't do anything wrong," she yelled, her throat burning from the sudden
burst of raw emotion. Her entire body shook, and she started pacing again. "We're
too late, Dad. Jake found another family to replace us, one he thinks can give
him everything we can't. But all they'll give him is death."

Her
father's red eyes were angry but also sad. And so what? How many times had she
cried after being humiliated by her father, beaten by him, scared so badly from
being locked in a closet that she wet herself? All her life he had made her
feel like a worthless stain on the carpet he couldn't clean up. And it had been
the same for Jake, if not worse. She used to think Jake was better off with
Star Mother than with his own family.

Frank
eased himself to the couch, his weathered face pale, the bags under his eyes
drooping to reveal the glaring red of his lower eyelids. His jaw went rigid as
he worked at restraining his rage. She recognized his struggle, having seen it
countless times in the past when he tried to hide it from other people. Her
father needed to lash out and couldn't.

"I'm
a stubborn old man, Kelly," he finally said, his voice shaking. "I
regret the horrible things I did to you kids, but I thought I was making you
tough, preparing you for the cruel world outside our home—"

"Let
me clue you in, Dad. The world isn't half as cruel as you were."

He
nodded, his scowl pulling his face into a fist. "I can accept that. You're
probably right. But honey—"

She
shot him a dangerous look.

He
cleared his throat and started again. "When you told me about the letter
Jake sent you, how he wrote about a suicide plan and a spaceship that would fly
him off to some planet on the other side of the universe, you gave me a shot of
reality. Losing you or Jake would be the death of me. I mean that. If anything
happened to either of you..." He looked down at his hands and went
suddenly quiet.

Kelly's
eyebrows bunched in bewilderment. She'd never before seen this side of her
father. How was she supposed to react? She looked to Sam for guidance, but he
was no longer in the room. A breakfast bar separated the living room from the
kitchen, and she spotted him at one of the counters, spooning teaspoons of
instant coffee into three mugs. She heard the whistle of a teakettle.

She
sat at the opposite end of the couch from her father. Her heart tripped over
itself as she battled feelings she'd never before associated with the man. Her
throat ached as confused tears stung the backs of her eyes. She couldn't
forgive him, but she would listen to him. Seeing him like this, she could
honestly say she didn't recognize this man. The man sitting beside her wasn't
her father.

She
reached out as if to touch him then curled her hand into a fist and dropped it
in her lap.

"Coffee's
done." Expressionless, Sam handed Frank one of the steaming mugs. He
offered another to Kelly.