Desert Guardian (7 page)

Slow
footsteps thudded up from behind her.

"Sam,
is that you?" She gritted her teeth against the quaver in her voice. From
the corner of her eye, she saw the white sheet just before it enveloped her
head. Not Sam. A pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders and hoisted her off
her feet.

She
screamed, her mouth next to what she hoped was an ear. Whoever it was teetered
and howled, loosening his hold just enough for her to squirm free. She fell
hard to the floor, landing on her side, the wind knocked out of her. Dazed, she
wrestled with the sheet until her hands came free, only to be tackled from
behind.

"Jake?"
she called. "Jake, where are you? Help me!"

Her
brother didn't answer.

Years
of running had Kelly's leg muscles as taught as coiled springs, and she used
every ounce of strength to kick at the man holding her down.

He
struggled to keep her still, but he was obviously out of shape. She could tell
by the flabby feel of his biceps and forearms, as if he did nothing but sit
behind a desk all day. He was still bigger than her, and though he had her
pinned to the floor, she swore it wouldn't be an easy fight.

Kelly's
arms and legs burned from the strain of fending him off. The realization that
someone from the Star Mother cult was trying to kidnap her and coming close to
succeeding inspired renewed panic. Adrenalin pumped through her like a blast of
fire. The man wrapped the sheet more firmly around her head, cutting off her
air. She fought for oxygen, but his arm blocked her nose and mouth. Darkness
closed in around her. The man's heavy breathing echoed in her ears.

Little
by little, her muscles turned to jelly. She saw the oak floor through an
opening in the sheet. Her focus dimmed, and the floor became a soft blur as she
lost consciousness.

A
distant crash registered in Kelly's fading awareness. The man let her go, and a
welcome flood of air rushed into her lungs. Thudding feet pounded the floor by
her head. The smacking sound of flesh against flesh reached her ears, and she
finally understood what was happening.

Sam
had come home.

She
struggled to free herself from the tangled sheet, but the twisted wad of fabric
had a life of its own. The more she fought, the more tightly the sheet held.
Because she couldn't see, she focused on what she could hear.

Dazed,
she tried desperately to make sense of what was going on only a few feet away.
She heard mostly grunts and groans, a couple of shouts, and she saw only
shadows through the sheet. To her left came a sound like a chair toppling over
and banging to the floor. Someone cried out in pain. More smacking of flesh
against flesh. Fast footsteps, running footsteps, and the thudding of
hard-soled shoes against the wooden deck outside.

Someone
hurried toward her, making her cringe and turning her blood to ice. "Sam?"
she whispered, desperately hoping she was right. She coughed and said more
loudly, "Sam? Is that you?"

Strong
hands grabbed her arms and hoisted her to her feet.

"Kelly,
are you okay?" Sam's voice sounded tense. He pulled the sheet from her
face and held her up, cradling her in his arms so that her feet barely touched
the floor. "Did they hurt you?"

Panic
still squeezing her lungs, she tugged at the sheet wound tightly around her
chest. "I'm fine. Where's Jake?"

"Who?"

"My
brother!" Exasperated, she ripped at the sheet. "He was just here. I
spoke to him. I almost convinced him to come home with me." At least she
thought she had.

With
his help, she shed the wrinkled yards of fabric that had almost smothered her
to death. When the sheet fell away, she found herself looking into Sam's deep
gray eyes, his forehead creased with worry, a red welt high on his right cheek.
Silent and breathless, they stared at each other, their faces inches apart. Her
gaze dropped to his full lips and locked there.

"I'm
so glad you got back when you did." She folded herself against him,
relieved and protected. His arms wrapped more tightly around her, and the
familiar scent of his skin grew intoxicating. She would have been happy staying
where she was for as long as he would hold her. Sam had become her guardian,
her savior.

She
recalled her dream from that morning, how his hands had felt around her ribs,
his sensuous fingers caressing her breasts. She wanted to feel that now. As she
looked up, their gazes locked again, and she saw desire smolder in his eyes. He
bowed his head, lifting her up slightly as he did so, and his breath rustled
the fine hairs above her forehead.

Protected.
Cared for. She hungered for that above all things, but so did Jake. It wasn't
her
needs she should be thinking about
now. It was her brother's. Coming to her senses, she backed away. "You
must have seen Jake. He was right here!"

Sam's
breath came out in short bursts as he collected himself. "Tell me what he
looks like."

She
did, and he nodded. "That must have been the guy who ran past me and out
the door when I plowed into the man holding you down." He glanced out the
open doorway. "They're gone now. Left in a beat-up blue van. As soon as I
got here and saw a strange vehicle parked in the driveway, I knew there was
trouble."

She
studied Sam's face, looking for the deceiver Jake had been so convinced he was.
But that wasn’t what she saw. Sam's face was a living sculpture of compassion
and concern. There was no liar here.

He
rested both hands on her shoulders as if to steady her, and his frown deepened.
"You're shaking."

Damn
her body for betraying her emotions. No point in denying the obvious, so she
hugged herself and nodded. "I'll be fine. Really."

He
reached out to touch her lightly on the cheek. She backed up a step and closed
her eyes. "I know you're trying to help, and I'm sorry if I seem
ungrateful. Just give me a few minutes to pull myself together, and I'll be
good as new." Her attempt at a reassuring smile felt unnatural, and she
hoped he didn't notice. However, she did feel relieved after seeing Jake and
knowing he was well, if malnourished. He wasn't taking care of himself.

Sam's
lips curved slightly, but the real smile came through his eyes. "It's okay
to be scared."

She
blinked, a sudden sting of tears threatening her self-control. She wanted to be
brave, to dismiss the attack as trivial, pretend it was a failed effort that
had no effect on her. But in truth, she was scared to death. If she admitted
this to Sam, he'd treat her like a victim, and she couldn't tolerate that. It
had taken her years to repair the damage her father had done to her self-esteem,
and the result was a fierce independence that had given her confidence. She
wasn't about to let it go now.

She
glanced down at the scuffed oak floor that had a few streaks of blood on it.
Thankfully, none of it was hers or Jake's. And seeing that Sam's only visible
injury was a bruise on his cheek, it wasn't his blood either.

"Let's
get you to the couch," he told her.

She
resisted her stubborn need for self-reliance and let him steer her toward the
couch, her steps wobbly and unsure. With his arm draped around her shoulder, he
held her close, the contact of his body against hers like a soothing salve to
her shattered spirit.
 

Stiff
and achy, she was otherwise unharmed, but even though the danger had passed,
her fluttering heart refused to ease up.

Once
planted on the couch, she asked, "Should we call the police?"

****

Sam
had known that was coming. And he doubted she'd like his answer. "Not a
good idea."

She
surprised him by saying, "You're right. They might arrest Jake, and that's
not what I want."

"Even
if we did call the police, there's not much they can do but slow us down,"
he said. "Police investigations are time-consuming. The cops would come
and take our statements, collect evidence, dust for fingerprints, and expect us
to accompany them to the station, where we could look through hundreds of mug
shots."

Her
eyes glazed. "Sounds tedious."

"It
is. And a total waste of time." He'd been through this type of situation
with interventions that involved other cults. Four years ago, he had consensually
abducted an environmental cultist in the middle of the night. The cult's
brethren had wanted the woman back and broke into Sam's hotel to take her. They'd
failed. When the police were called in, the cultist's tracks had been covered
so well that it became their word against the victim's. A couple of shark
lawyers were thrown into the mix, and the litigation circus had gone on for
months, the cult getting off free and clear.

He
heaped some pillows at one end of the couch, and Kelly settled back against them.
"Did you notice that your brother and his buddy had a tattoo of a comet on
their forearms?"

She
shook her head, and her eyes flickered as if with sudden pain, but she kept it
to herself. It tore him up to see her so distressed.

He went
to the kitchen and got ice for his throbbing cheek. Through the breakfast bar
window, he caught a glimpse of Kelly staring vacantly into empty space. His
heart went out to her. A moment ago, the two of them had shared a connection
that might have become something more if he'd acted on impulse. But she had
reacted first, pulling away and denying him the kiss he still ached for. It was
probably just as well. He shouldn't get personally involved with his clients.

Her
pallor unnerved him. A healthy dose of his homemade energizer tea should perk
her up. He filled a kettle and set it on the stove.

When
he returned to the couch, she studied his injured face. "Looks like they
got you pretty good. I couldn't see the fight, but I heard it."

Without
comment, Sam set the ice wrapped in a dishtowel against his bruise. He studied
this remarkable young woman who didn't scare easy. Though shaken, her demeanor
remained impressively cool.

"Kelly,
do you understand why they want you?"

"Because
I'm Jake's sister," she said, then squinted as if trying to remember
something. "In his last letter, Jake had said we were both reincarnated
from Star Mother's original starship crew." She rolled her eyes. "I
didn't take him seriously at the time, but it freaks me out now, especially
since Valya called here today and pulled some kind of
mind whammy
on me—"

"Hold
it." He leaned forward to hear her better. "Did you say Valya called?
Here? Today?"

"Yeah.
I think you're right about them having started my conditioning." Her body
shook with an exaggerated shudder. "But I don't remember any of it. It's
like a fog thickens inside my head every time I try to think about my time at
the camp. What did she do to me?"

A
wave of worry crashed through him. Kelly was obviously susceptible to
suggestion, yet she appeared to have a very strong mind. Strong enough to have
kept her senses during her attack. "Valya has a gift for inducing a
spiritual high through meditation. She uses relaxation techniques to put her
subjects in a trance, and that's when she plays her mind games."

Kelly's
eyes widened. "How does it work?"

"Once
her subject is under, the mind is open to suggestion. Valya plants words or
images that she can later trigger into a reaction, usually some kind of
submissive behavior. What was it she said that induced your
mind whammy
?"

"She
talked about my inner place of solitude, and it made me immediately peaceful."

Of
course. That would make Kelly pliable. Having her brother suddenly appear
compounded the effect. Valya must have believed that getting Kelly to follow
her brother would be as easy as snapping her fingers. Sam smiled to himself; he
enjoyed watching Valya fail. "You'd probably had a meditation session with
Valya while you were with her."

"I
don't remember it," Kelly said. "I don't even remember her."

"That's
okay. The important thing is that you fought her. You didn't let her take you
over."

She
looked appalled. "No way would I let her or anyone else take me over."

"Glad
to hear it. Why do you think I've stayed away from the cult all these years? I
know how they think." Though he wished he didn't. Just imagining the
thoughts that ran through Von and Valya's sadistic minds made him feel sick. He
stood and began to pace. "Three days left until the comet comes. That
means there will probably be another attempt to kidnap you."

The
thought of Kelly in danger made his blood run cold. He liked Kelly more than he
had a right to, and it was distracting him from his job. He had to stay
focused.

The
teakettle whistled, and he retreated to the kitchen to remove it from the
stove.

"I
was just thinking about that guy who attacked me," Kelly said, raising her
voice loud enough for him to hear in the kitchen. "He didn't strike me as
the sentry type."

Sam
plunked a couple of homemade teabags in two mugs. "More like a misfit soldier.
Star Mother's sentries are all computer geeks who design internal Intranet
platforms for start-up companies. E-commerce is a profitable trade for a cult.
They can work from almost anywhere."

"Which
must be why they're able to operate while staying mobile."

"Exactly.
They upload work to their business clients via modem from the nearest town,
usually through libraries or Internet cafes. They also have sophisticated
satellite equipment they boot up whenever they're too far from civilization for
a suitable connection." When the steaming water was poured into the mugs,
it created a dark, spicy brew that smelled great. He carried their tea into the
living room. "The Star Mother cult didn't always use computers to raise
money. In the old days, they operated as a traveling carnival."

"Thanks."
Kelly accepted her mug. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "What's in
this?"

He
took a sip of his and grinned. "My own special recipe. I use herbs that
stimulate the senses and calm the nerves. You looked like you could use a
pick-me-up."

She
smiled, the dimples in her cheeks deepening as she touched the mug to her lips.
"It's different, I'll say that much. Tastes like licorice." She took
a deeper swallow and nodded, her eyebrows raised in appreciation. "So tell
me about this carnival."

Sam
sat in the chair across from her, relieved to see color return to her sallow
cheeks. Her no-nonsense approach to facing obstacles in her path could save her
life some day.

He
spun the reel of childhood memory back to his first days with Star Mother. "The
carnival traveled from town to town with crystal balls, palmists, tarot card
readers, you name it. They even did séances. That's how they recruited my
mother, by claiming to talk to my dead dad on the other side." He rubbed a
broad, lumpy scar on his forearm while recalling that night twenty years ago.