Edge of Darkness (35 page)

“So you’re telling me…what you’re saying is—”

“It’s a boy,” he gently said when she could no longer go on. “The doctors don’t know yet because it’s too early, but I do.” He tapped his nose, smiling.

The beeping Ember had thought was the clock of eternity began to accelerate, chiming wildly in the silence of the room. It was a heartbeat monitor, and Christian sat up and looked at it, suddenly vibrating tension and worry.

“Are you all right? Are you hurting? Tell me what I can do, tell me what you need—”

“You,” Ember sobbed, curling her hand around the front of his shirt and pulling him down beside her. “All I need is you.”

He relaxed beside her, stretched out like a lazing lion, and cupped her face in his hand. She looked up at him through a prism of tears and he said, “Then we’re both set, because nothing will ever separate me from you. Nothing.”

He pressed his lips against hers and murmured, “Come what may.”

In the early morning hours of March 31, three very important phone calls were made, by three very different men. All three calls would change the course of the future.

Each of these men was a leader among his kind. Each was driven, each was ambitious, each was heartless and cold.

And each of them was badly injured.

Two of them sustained serious injuries that would mar them forever. One man lost a leg, a hand, and a good portion of his sanity when he stepped on a land mine. Another was trapped by falling rock when a tunnel beneath a bunker collapsed but was saved from death by a pair of steel support beams that buckled but didn’t break. He suffered shrapnel wounds from the explosion that triggered the collapse and lung damage from smoke inhalation. He would also develop crippling claustrophobia from being trapped in the blackness below ground for hours before rescue personnel finally dug him out.

The third man—who wasn’t really a man at all—was so mangled and mutilated he was unrecognizable, even to the curious fish who swam up to investigate him, floating face down in the sea, just another piece of flotsam on the water.

It would take the first two men many months to heal from their injuries, to move forward with their lives as before, but it took the third man all of a few minutes before he healed and lifted his head, furiously coughing up sea water, physically right as rain.

The first man made his phone call while being transported to the local hospital in the back of an ambulance. Though in shock and suffering from severe blood loss, he still managed to convince the EMT to lend him a cell phone, and he dialed a number he knew by heart. There wasn’t a live person on the end of that call—there never was—but a machine took his message, and it would be replayed later by the one it was intended for, who had the means to set the wheels of pursuit in motion.

His message was simply a license plate number, memorized just moments before he stepped on the mine.

The second man’s call was made to the Vatican, to a private line only a handful of people in the world knew. When the phone was answered, he recited a verse in Latin from the gospel of Peter. “Be watchful; your adversary the devil prowls like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”

To which a voice on the other end replied, “But we shall devour him first.”

Made from a payphone in the Port Vell marina, the phone call from the third man was collect, as he was nude and had no money. It was as succinct as the other two calls, and consisted of only three words, spoken as the high, shrieking whine of police sirens grew nearer.

“Drop The Hammer.”

It was Easter Sunday in Barcelona, and the world would never be the same again.

As always, I’d like to thank the wonderful team at Montlake Romance, including my editors Eleni Caminis and Maria Gomez, and the author relations, marketing, and proofreading and copyediting teams.

Marlene Stringer of Stringer Literary deserves special thanks for her continued support and sage advice, for taking a chance on an unknown author, and convincing a publisher to do so as well.

A deep bow goes to Melody Guy, who always gives such valuable feedback, and whose ideas make my books better.

To my readers, a warm and heartfelt thank you for purchasing this book, and for the wonderful enthusiasm you’ve shown for my work. I so appreciate you! I also sincerely thank the many bloggers who have so generously reviewed the Night Prowler books and spread the word about the
Ikati
.

To my very dear gay friends who were generous enough to answer intimate questions about being a gay man and how far we’ve come since Stonewall, I thank you and give you virtual hugs for your bravery and willingness to let me into the most private part of your lives. The Wednesday Night Book Club “ladies” were, in particular, beautifully open with me, and I love you for it. I’d also like to especially thank Anthony Vigliotta for “Carmen MiRambo,” an idea which was originally his own, and he has the pictures to prove it.

Thank you to my parents, Jean and Jim, for staying married for nearly fifty years. You’d be surprised how much that means to me. I’m so grateful for your love, and the commitment you’ve shown each other.

And finally to my own personal Alpha, Jay, the man who is the bedrock on which the foundation of my life is built…thank you for every single thing you do each day to show me how much I am loved. Thirteen years ago, you showed me happily-ever-after isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning.

J.T. Geissinger’s debut novel,
Shadow’s Edge
, was published in 2012 and was a #1 Amazon US and UK bestseller in both fantasy romance and romance series, and won the PRISM award for Best First Book. Her second book in the Night Prowler series,
Edge of Oblivion
, was a finalist for the prestigious RITA® award for Best Paranormal Romance from the Romance Writers of America. She lives in Los Angeles with her family and is currently at work on book six in the series. Visit her online at
jtgeissinger.com
.