Forgotten in Darkness (8 page)

“Well, let’s check in,” Ashor thundered, shutting down the bickering. He led the way up the beach.

“Wait,” Kira demanded. “You’re going to scare the hell out of the staff. We need someone less intimidating. And less memorable.”

Dakar said, “About the only ones less likely to scare the humans are Christian, you, and Scott.”

“Great, then we three will get a few rooms,” Kira announced. “Scott has the credit card, anyway.”

“Why is it that I always end up with this shit?” Christian complained while jogging to catch up with Kira and Scott.

“What’s our transportation plan, Ashor?” Javen asked.

“Let me text V to see if he and Eric can fly down here by tomorrow.” Ashor’s fingers moved madly over a small rectangular device.

“The plane he likes to fly has some right engine issues that I wanted looked at.”

“Then, we’ll just have to hope it holds out. I really don’t want to have to crash again and then row into Florida.”

“We could hire a private jet and get out of here tonight,” suggested Ethan.

“And deal with customs? No, thank you. Besides, we could all use a shower and rest,” Ashor replied.

Nate mumbled, “It’s not like we all brought along our own hookup.” His gaze darted to Kira before she disappeared around the building.

Ethan laughed. “Jealous? Get Christian to fix you up. I guarantee he won’t be sleeping alone tonight. Maybe he’ll let you join him. You never know.”

Nate snorted out an ick-no-way sigh. “I can do fine on my own.”

“Christian claims you haven’t been laid since the last time he fixed you up over a year ago.”

“You’re really going to do this again? You keeping score? The one and only time I allowed Christian to fix me up the girl turned out to be psycho. I mean, she wanted me to hurt her. I’m not into that messed-up shit. Besides, who are you to judge me? You haven’t been laid since like the first World War.”

“Maybe it’ll help you relax and be less likely to crash-land us on the way home,” Dakar suggested.

Nate flashed a middle finger and marched up the beach, away from Ethan’s laughter.

Ethan met Dakar’s gaze. “He blows up so easily. How can I resist? Hard to believe he was a cool-headed ranger lieutenant before we recruited him.”

“What’s a ranger?

“Military. Covert, special forces.”

****

“We’re on the second floor. They didn’t have any beach front views. There’s apparently some American group checked in here that have all those. I couldn’t quite make out…” Kira’s voice trailed off as they rounded the building toward the external stairs. “No way.” She yelled at a tall short-cropped blond wearing a black outfit, “Kane!”

The tall heavily muscled man halted and pivoted. Focused, unblinking dark blue eyes skewered them. Kane wore no expression on his face at all, just that focused stare. Cool as a cat. This man knew how to handle himself. Kane yanked a small plastic piece from his ear that had a curly cord, which disappeared into his shirt. When his gaze settled on Kira, expression set in for the first time. Shock. “Kira?”

“Who’s he?” Dakar asked, sensing the guy wasn’t a magus.

“Kira’s cousin, Kane Langford,” Nate replied. “Ex-special forces. Uh, that means he has special military training.”

“He a ranger like you?”

“How the hell did you know that?”

Dakar shrugged.

“If you can read my thoughts like Javen, then stay the hell out of my mind.”

Ethan bit his lip against a smile and raised an eyebrow when Dakar met his gaze. Dakar’s lips quirked upward.

“He’s an ex-ranger like Nate. Apparently, they were in the same unit,” Ethan explained.

Kane glanced behind him before walking their way. “What are you guys doing here?”

Kira smiled. “What? Embarrassed to see us or something? Ready to level with me on what you really do? I want to know who you’re spying for. And how you scored a trip to Costa Rica out of it.”

“Really, what are you doing here?”

Kira said, “Needed a vacation.”

Kane direct-eyed each magus.
Brave.
And then did a once-over, taking in their rough clothes. “Sure, a vacation. You guys working?” His gaze settled on Ashor. He pursed his lips as if Ashor’s presence pissed off some core, fundamental level he couldn’t get beyond.

Ashor raised his shoulders and dropped them. Dakar noticed none of the others conveyed anything beyond boredom toward Kane.

“It’s odd seeing you guys. I was going to call tonight. I’ve run into a bizarre situation down here. One that involves your world. Or at least your favorite bad guys.”

“Hashishins.” Ashor stated, his tone resigned.

“Yeah, them. You know, I preferred conferring over the phone…but whatever. So, you’re right, Kira, that I didn’t exactly retire from the rangers ten years ago. Recruited into a different organization.”

“I knew it! Wish you were out, though,” Kira said.

“The bottom line is that my unit has been chasing this child abduction ring for about two years. Today we found a big piece of the puzzle. We were this close to getting them this time.” He held his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “But the kids were already moved and several of the abductors were killed. Although we’ve suspected that’s their standard M.O.—kill all involved—we never found a body until now. Today we must’ve been close since they left the bodies and ran. The real pisser is we’ve never found so much as a whisper of the kids. They don’t show up on any human trafficking network, nor does any body surface. But today, one of the abductors had a Hashishin tat on his neck. That little concentric ring thing.”

“Maybe it’s a coincidence. Used to be Hashishin or something,” suggested Ashor.

A coincidence?
thought Dakar. Maybe he misinterpreted how obtuse Ashor seemed, but targeting in such a manner was a definite search for pre-mags. He cocked at eyebrow at Ashor.

Ashor squinted for a fraction of a second in reply.

Thank the gods. He knew. But was smart enough to keep the info close to the cuff.

Kane continued, “Those guys don’t seem like the type to let one of their own wander off the ranch. I’d venture to guess if you tried to do a
hasta la vista
on Terek, he’d smoke your ass. What do you think they want with kids?”

Kira suggested, “New recruiting method? Start ’em young? What better way to mold young minds—”

“You think so?” Kane interrupted with his gaze square on Ashor.

“Anything special about these kids that disappeared?” Ashor asked in a monotone that lacked enthusiasm.

“All boys. And each the victim of a major trauma from which they walked away unscathed. True miracle kids. What do you think?”

“He’s looking for something,” Ashor replied.

“That’s what I think, but what?”

Ashor shook his head in a clear
no-idea
. The guy was good.

Javen called from his post at the corner of the building, “There’s a blonde Amazon chick headed our way. Looks like she’s shouldering a buttload of pissy. She with you, Kane?”

“Astrid. My assignment partner. Better if she doesn’t see you guys. I can bluff most people through twenty questions, but her…well, she can smell bullshit a mile away. I’ll head her off. What room you in, Kira?”

“We’re in two oh four,” she replied.

“Catch you later.”

“Or not,” Ashor whooshed out as he breezed passed Dakar.

****

Showered, shaved, and now dressed in what Nate called a T-shirt and jeans, Dakar stepped out of the bathroom. The red glow of early dusk tinted the room behind his reflection in the mirror. The black shirt was immodestly tight. Comfortable. But hugged his chest in a way that made hiding weapons impossible.

“Nice shave. I’m flattered,” Ethan greeted him and stroked his goatee, which was an exact replica of what Dakar had done with his facial hair.

“Thought I would attempt to blend a bit better in this century. When I was here last, sideburns were all the rage.”

Ethan grimaced. “That’s a trend that keeps coming back, but really should stay gone. How long have you been…uh, gone? And what have you been doing all that time?”

Dakar shrugged, not feeling it the right moment to discuss the past with an amnesic Ethan.

“Fine. Keep your secrets. Want to come with us to get a beer?”

“Does that mean food?” The two small packages of cracker sandwiches a few hours ago had done little to assuage his hunger. Based on his stomach’s gurgling, he wouldn’t be surprised if it started digesting itself within the next hour. Starvation was a familiar sensation; one he despised, but knew how to live with. In this realm, though, it equated to weakness.

“Christian chose the place. That means there will probably be a lot of scantily clad single women and alcohol. No guarantees on the food part.”

“Lead on, then.”

Two hours later the three of them occupied a round corner table in the tavern…no, they called it a bar. He shifted when his stomach rumbled to cut off its complaints. The place offered only a crackers-and-nuts mixture for food. Four bowls of the salty blend had done little more than dehydrate him. And the beer was a foul, diluted version of the hearty stout he remembered. It didn’t warrant more than a few sips.

A brunette sat in Christian’s lap, whispering in his ear. No doubt he would retire soon, at least Dakar hoped. He couldn’t stomach watching Christian push a girl against the dark wall behind him and have at it. Modesty and respectability had apparently vanished in this century. Call him old-fashioned, but he missed the days of long women’s skirts when an ankle flash was enough to make a man blow in his trousers.

Upon arrival at this bar, Ethan assured him this was not a brothel as he’d assumed. Men and women conducted themselves in a manner that suggested their sole objective was to find a bed partner. He squinted through the flashing lights to the packed dance floor, watching mixed couples bounce around to the non-melodic, heavy-beat music. There was no organization to the movements. No group social interaction and propriety. This was imitation sex with a lot of pelvis grinding.

Ethan gazed sightlessly into the crowd while he nursed his ninth double-shot scotch. Conversation was impractical over the piercing music pulsations.

“
Se tiene que ir
.” You need to leave.

Dakar tabled the beer he’d been nursing and eyed the busty blonde now beside him.

The woman moistened her puffy, pink-painted lips, planted her hands on the table, and leaned in. Despite the retina-brutalizing strobes, he was able to make out the shadow of her generous breasts rebelling against confinement in her too-tight bustier. She dropped lower in front of him with a too-knowing smile, granting him an unobstructed view of that substantial flesh.

“
Porqué me tengo que ir
?” Why do I need to leave? His interest in her registered subzero, but he was bored.

“
Usted está haciendo que todos los demas chicos se vean mal
.” You’re making all the other guys look bad.

He rolled his eyes. In English he replied, “Is that truly the best you could come up with?”

She flashed a wide, unapologetic smile. “Ah, American. So, what do you say? Shall we go somewhere private?” Whatever minty breath enhancement she used failed to mask a smoking binge. Women smokers? Unusual. And repulsive.

As her hand smoothed up his forearm, his stomach lurched. He swallowed hard when bile stung the back of his throat.

She managed to purr over the eardrum blistering electronic music, “Let’s go outta here.”

Ethan grumbled, “Tell her to go away.”

Dakar frowned in his direction, shocked by his rudeness. He enfolded the woman’s hands in his. “My lady, I thank you for your interest. You are beautiful and any man in this bar would be honored to be with you. I appreciate your brazen attitude, but I must decline. Let this not reflect upon you. My heart was committed long ago, and there will be no other woman for me.” With relief, he released her hands. And prayed she wouldn’t touch him again.

Her face softened. She placed her palm against his cheek. “I understand.” She gave him a peck with her puffy lips on the opposite cheek and left.

Ethan stared a mute
what-the-hell?

Dakar shrugged,
what?

Ethan said, “Here I thought Christian was good with women. That was amazing. I’ve never seen someone turn down a hooker, and then she gives him a kiss while telling him it’s okay.”

“A hooker?” Dakar frowned.

“Prostitute.” Ethan’s sympathy-face made him want to pummel him into a bloody pulp.

“She was a whore?” Damn it, he hated this century where he couldn’t even detect something as simple as a proposition.

“Yeah. Top quality, but still wants to be paid at the end of the night.”

“I need air.” As he pushed away from the table, his stomach rumbled.

He exited the beachfront bar and walked toward the dark beach, but halted more than a hundred yards from the water. The water didn’t fail to repel him. The relative quiet with only a few loners and the rhythmic rise and fall of waves comforted—a vast improvement from the bar.

A presence slid beside him. Female.
Shit.

She was tall at what had to be close to six feet. He performed a peripheral scan. Her blonde hair was stylized into a tight, long ponytail. The unflattering loose jeans and T-shirt created a mannish impression. He recognized her as the girl Kane had wanted them to avoid earlier today. Astrid.

Great.
He bet this was not Ashor’s ideal going-unnoticed scenario.

This is what he got for going into a tavern. All magi attracted danger-seeking women like flies to shit.

He grumbled, “I am not interested.”

“Good. Me neither,” she replied.

He was done being nice to approaching women tonight. “Then why do you have an interest in me?”

“That was kind, what you did for that hooker.”

He shrugged, wishing she’d disappear and more than a little disturbed she’d been watching him.

“Most aren’t so nice.” There was sadness in her voice.

“You have some shadows in your past?”

Her turn to shrug and keep answers to herself.

“Please, tell me what you want, and then I would appreciate being alone right now.”