Eternal Nights (3 page)

It didn’t make sense to her. Why build such an enormous pyramid and put only a few rooms in it? But she’d perused the data on the temple more carefully than any other structure in the Old City, and according to everything she’d read, the interior was solid stone. That felt wrong.

The capstone continued to shine. With a loud exhale, she put aside her thoughts and checked her watch. A few more minutes, then most people would be at mess and she could make it to the pyramid without worrying too much about being spotted. Kendall bit her lower lip. Maybe she should look for Catfish and ask him to go with her. Except she had no clue where he was. She could waste hours searching for him, hours she didn’t have, since she needed to have her mission accomplished before dinner ended.

Besides, once she got to the temple, she’d probably be safe. Almost everyone avoided it as if there were DANGER: KEEP OUT signs surrounding it. They all spoke of feeling as if someone had walked over their graves while they were inside, usually adding an embarrassed smile at their foolishness. She’d never had that sense. To her, it was peaceful. Perfect. Hers.

Kendall reached for the fasteners keeping her hair up and yanked them free. She opened a pocket on the front of her bag and stowed the clips, then went inside to retrieve her digicam. It was time.

Once she reemerged, she took a careful look around, and when she didn’t see anyone, set off. Her nerves strung tighter as she hurried through neighborhood after neighborhood of alien houses. Time seemed to stand still, but she was taking a roundabout path to the pyramid to improve the odds that she wouldn’t see anyone.

Her luck ran out in a side plaza filled with shops. Kendall couldn’t stop the gasp of dismay as she saw a man striding toward her at full speed. She didn’t recognize him until he was about twenty yards away from where she was standing. Colonel Sullivan.

Maybe she should tell him right now what was going on and bring him to the temple with her. She wouldn’t have to worry whether she was spotted if he were accompanying her—no one would mess with the colonel.

She waited for him to reach her, but he didn’t pause, didn’t even acknowledge her despite her salute. Kendall watched his back for a minute, then gathered her courage and chased after him. “Colonel Sullivan,” she said as she pulled even with him, “I need to talk to you.”

He glared at her. “Not now.”

“But sir, it’s important.” She was practically running to keep up with his long strides.

“Captain, I said not now. Which word was over your head?”

Her bravery was flooding away from her but she grasped one small portion of it and said, “Sir, please—”

“Make an appointment, Captain, and that’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly and drew to a halt. He left her behind and she was sure he’d already forgotten her existence. Well, she’d planned to go to the pyramid alone anyway; she’d just return to her original idea and hunt him down later.

Once she had proof, he wouldn’t brusquely blow her off.

*** *** ***

Alex was pissed.

Damned kids. These officers seemed to get younger every day and they had less common sense than ever. Any fool could see that now wasn’t a good time to bother him, but had that stopped the girl? Hell, no. She’d hounded him like a reporter after a disgraced politician. Shit. He put her out of his mind. Alex had more important things to worry about than some idiot captain.

In the time there’d been army personnel on Jarved Nine, he’d never had to deal with a major crime. A few fights, some petty larceny, nothing too big. Now it looked as if he’d be facing his first huge problem.

Murder.

He hoped to God the MPs who’d found the body were wrong, that it was some kind of accident, but he was too pragmatic to believe that. He’d known it was only a matter of time until something like this happened. A small post where people ran into the same faces day after day—sooner or later someone was bound to enrage another person enough to want them dead.

Or maybe it was a crime of passion. Stacey and Ravyn would both rip him up one side and down the other if he were stupid enough to say it aloud, but having women stationed here was asking for trouble. The troops had started pairing off almost from the beginning and the affairs didn’t always end cleanly. At least if this were the case, it would be fairly easy to find the guilty party and McNamara would have his—or her—ass confined so fast, he’d have imprints from the bars on his backside.

McNamara. He’d been butting heads with the woman from day one; she’d be all over him to solve this thing ASAP. Like he wouldn’t be working as hard as he could to come up with answers. He forced his fists to unclench as he reached the square where the body had been found. At first, he didn’t see anyone; then a head popped up.

Oh, this was great. His MP was puking his guts out. But the sarcasm covered fear. Three years ago, there had been no one on this planet except a Colonization Assessment Team and nineteen of the twenty members had been slaughtered by an alien ritual killer. The Special Operations team that responded to the emergency signal hadn’t fared much better, losing six out of seven men to the same murderer. Alex had led the rescue team from Earth and he could still remember the sick feeling that had swamped him when he’d seen the mutilated bodies.

“Where?” Alex asked, raising his voice to be heard over the dry heaving. The MP attempted to stand, gave it up as another spasm went through him, and settled for saluting while bent over. Alex bit back a curse and repeated himself. “Where?”

The kid managed to point, and Alex left him to see firsthand what was going on. What a mess. Too many people on his military police force didn’t have real seasoning and hadn’t acquired any while on Jarved Nine. He had his Spec Ops soldiers—no one could say they were green—but now half of them had been ordered to return to Earth. If this body had anything close to the type of wounds he’d found on the CAT, there was no way in hell he was letting Special Forces get on that transport.

Alex located the second MP and was relieved to see the woman noting details about the crime scene. Thank God for sergeants who had a few years under their belts.

The noncom met him at the mouth of the alley and went through the formalities before filling him in. She was thorough, but Alex was impatient to see the victim. “Why don’t you keep talking while I take a closer look,” he suggested.

“Sir...”

“What, Sergeant?” he prompted when the woman didn’t immediately spit it out.

“He’s one of ours.”

Alex didn’t wait to hear more. He went down the alley and took a look for himself. As he stood, gazing down at one of his men, he decided there was good news and bad news.

The good news was that the murder was definitely committed by a human and not some alien. It was a simple knife across the throat. Ugly—the puking kid said it all—but not as gruesome as what he’d seen when he’d come to J Nine on that rescue mission.

The bad news, however, went beyond the fact that he’d lost a man. First, the victim was a Special Operations officer, one of Alex’s best. That someone had managed to take him out meant they had a serious threat inside the Old City. Second, it wasn’t going to be an easy crime to solve. Not when no likely motive sprang to mind.

Captain James Hunter didn’t drink, didn’t get into brawls, didn’t gamble, and since he was still mourning the death of his wife, he didn’t play around. He was quiet and easygoing, making it unlikely that he’d just plain pissed someone off.

So with all the simple reasons gone, why the hell had anyone murdered Catfish?

Chapter Two

Wyatt pulled his olive T-shirt over his head and reached for his jungle camo fatigue pants. He tucked, then zipped before taking one last look in the mirror. Bug would know immediately that he’d showered and shaved before seeing her, but maybe she’d assume it was because he was ripe from three weeks in the field. It wasn’t true, but if she jumped to that conclusion, he wouldn’t straighten her out. As skittish as she was, it would set him back a few steps if she thought he’d spiffed up for her, especially since they’d nearly kissed.

For that same reason, he wasn’t going to her quarters. Instead, he planned to casually bump into her in the mess hall. It would be natural then to join her for supper and maybe spend some time together afterward.

The thought made him smile and he left the bathing chamber—he couldn’t think of the elaborate marble expanse as a bathroom—and tugged on his socks and boots. This alien house was a bit ornate for his taste, but he liked the privacy it afforded over the prefab barracks. Of course, it helped that he was one of the small number of people who could turn on the water and lights. It took some practice to learn to draw energy from the planet and aim it with his mind to manipulate basic household functions, but it was kind of cool once he got the hang of it. Bug was the one who’d shared the secret of how to manage the power.

And maybe now she’d be ready to share more with him. Like what the hell had been bothering her before he’d left the Old City. If not, he’d hunt down Catfish after he escorted Bug home and find out if anything had gone down while he’d been away.

Whistling under his breath, he headed toward the front of the house. In a few minutes, he’d see Kendall again. He’d missed her like hell.

Wyatt paused; instinct and experience told him someone was in the shadows of his porch before he walked out the door. “So much for privacy,” he drawled as his executive officer unfolded himself from his chair.

“No one likes a smart-mouthed kid,” Flare shot back.

“Haven’t we spent enough time together, Chief Cantore?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be here long. I have plans.”

Wyatt hitched his thumbs through his belt loops and leaned back against the front of the building. “What’s up?”

“Word is The Big Chill called you and the other Spec Ops officers in for a meeting tomorrow morning,” his XO said. “You have any idea what it’s about?”

Hell, he should have figured Flare knew about that. The noncoms had a grapevine that would make Hollywood gossip mavens green with envy, and his warrant officer was plugged in good and tight. “No. The message didn’t say. What do you know?”

Flare looked grim. “From what I heard, it sounds like a formal declaration of hostilities with the coalition is coming sooner rather than later and about half the Spec Ops teams are being rotated home in preparation.” His chief leaned against the stone railing. “I was hoping the rumor was wrong.”

Muttering a curse, Wyatt rubbed both hands over his face. “Are we one of the teams going?”

“No clue about that. Could be, although the others have been here longer.”

“We both know that won’t mean jack shit.”

His second-in-command nodded and they fell silent. Damn, he wasn’t ready to go back to Earth. If he left and Bug stayed here, he’d lose the ground he’d gained with her, and God knew, forward progress had occurred one agonizing inch at a time. He thought of how close he’d come to finally tasting her. He wanted more than that almost-kiss. A lot more.

Wyatt put thoughts of Kendall aside. That was personal, and he had to consider his men now. “You get a time frame on how soon it’ll be before we’re officially at war?” They’d been fighting
un
officially for a while. Prior to being assigned to J Nine, his team had spent nearly three months solid out in the field.

Shrugging one shoulder, Flare said, “You know as much as I do. A week till the transport is scheduled to leave for Earth. Two weeks for the teams to report home and another week or so for them to get into position. Unless some event sparks it sooner, I’d say we’re looking at about five, maybe six weeks max.”

With another curse, Wyatt sat in the chair his chief had vacated. He didn’t doubt Cantore. The man might look like some surf bum—hell, he’d
been
a surf bum before joining the army—but he was the sharpest damn soldier Wyatt had ever met. He’d trust the chief with his life, but more important, he’d trust Flare with
Bug’s
life and Wyatt would never risk her.

Flare took the other seat. “This isn’t a surprise.”

“No, but I was wishing...” He let his voice trail off. After a moment, Wyatt said, “You know that I’ll tell you and the men as much as I can as soon as I can.”

“I know.” Flare paused, and when he continued, it was clear he was attempting to break the somber mood. “We can’t go home yet. I haven’t made it to the ocean here or caught any waves.” He studied Wyatt. “Maybe you should try to stay on The Chill’s good side. Might make him more amenable to keeping us around. You officers are always good at ass-kissing.”

Wyatt flipped off his XO and ignored the chuckle. Leaning back in his chair, he looked out on the Old City. If the team was sent back to Earth, he’d have come up with some new strategy to win Kendall. No way was he starting over at square one with her, not after everything he’d already done.

There were times Bug frustrated the hell out of him, times he wondered why he went to so much effort for her. But then she’d smile at him, and he knew she was worth every sleepless night, every cold shower. Wyatt blew out a harsh breath. Besides, he might be worrying for nothing. There was a fifty-fifty chance that he and the team would be staying.

“Is there anything else we need to talk about? I want to catch up with Kendall in time to eat with her.”

“I saw her hurrying by about twenty minutes before you came out of the house, but she wasn’t headed for the mess hall.”

“Which way was she going?”

Wyatt followed Flare’s pointed finger. “Oh, shit,” he said under his breath. The pyramid was that way, and she was obsessed with that damn pile of rock. He knew why she was attracted to it, and he didn’t like it. But it was just some stone hallways and a few rooms filled with relics, nothing to worry about now.

To be safe, though, he’d better find her and keep her out of trouble. He put his hands on his chair arms to push to his feet. Flare called after him, but Wyatt ignored his XO. Nothing mattered except finding Kendall.

Kendall. What the hell was she up to? He had a bad feeling about this. Very bad.