The Warrior (15 page)

John stood outside the bathroom, wincing with every
retching sound she made, but not from disgust. Once again, the torment of her life had been brought home to him in a blatant and physical way. His desire for revenge was centuries old and in every pore of his skin. He breathed it, ate with it, lived with it—unable to escape it even in sleep, because, more often than not, his dreams were littered with flashes of White Fawn and his people bathed in blood. But it was also familiar.

But this was all new to Alicia Ponte, and she was in shock. Her life as she knew it was over. Everything she had known and trusted was a lie. Her father was no longer her father—he was her enemy. Now the woman she'd considered herself to be was gone, leaving her an unknown. As his quest for justice was finally coming to fruition, Alicia's world was coming to an end.

“Is she all right?”

John looked over his shoulder. Corbin was standing in the hall behind him.

“No, but she will be,” he said.

“That's a hell of a thing to find out about your father.”

“So you believe her?”

Corbin shrugged. “
You
believe her. I believe
you—
even though I'm starting to think you've been keeping secrets from me.”

John's heartbeat stuttered. His life was nothing but secrets, but he hadn't expected Corbin to call him on it.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Corbin let his gaze slide from the perfect structure of John's coffee-brown face to the silver feather earring, his wide shoulders and flat belly.

“I'm thinking you've found the secret to eternal youth. You look damned good, my friend.”

“It's all in the DNA, white man.”

Corbin grinned. “Maybe in my next life I'll get to come back as a Native American.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” John said.

Corbin laughed, unaware that reincarnation was not only possible but probable. However, John wasn't going to debate the quirks of living and dying with a man who operated on nothing but finding and proving the facts.

A few moments later, the door opened. Alicia walked out with her chin up and her shoulders back.

“Sorry. I think it was something I swallowed…probably my pride.” Then she added, “Thank you,” to John without looking at him.

Oh hell. She'd been crying. However, the jut of her chin was clue enough that she didn't want it mentioned. And she also needed another dose of attitude to keep her emotions in check. Considering the fact that everything he did aggravated her, it was easy to piss her off.

“Consider it selfishness on my part. I didn't want to have to mop up after you.”

Corbin's lips parted slightly, shocked that John was being so rude. But when he saw the fire in Alicia Ponte's eyes reappear, he realized that the tension between them might be more than anger. He smiled to himself, thinking he would like to be a fly on the wall if they ever gave in to what was simmering between them.

Alicia glared at John but refused to spar, then turned her attention to Corbin.

“There's one other thing I should probably mention.”

Corbin's interest spiked. “Yes?”

“Uncle Jacob…Jacob Carruthers.”

“What about him?”

“My father likes him, but I've often heard him refer to Uncle Jacob as weak-kneed. If that's the case, you might be able to make him talk. If he was promised life instead of hanging—or whatever it is they do to traitors these days—he might turn. Knowing him as I do, I'm guessing he's been in panic mode ever since he learned I was running.”

Now she really had Corbin's attention. “I have some friends in the Bureau.” When he saw Alicia getting ready to argue, he held up his hands. “I know, I know…I saw the deputy director standing beside your father. I know all about their college days together. But Richard Ponte isn't the only one with ties to the big shots. I've been in D.C. going on twenty-five years now. I have some connections of my own. I'm thinking if I can round up a couple of
my
buddies and show up on Jacob Carruthers' doorstep, your suggestion might produce some usable facts.”

“That would be great!” Alicia cried. “Would you…I mean…if he talks…would you be able to let me know?”

“Oh, you'll know. If he talks, the Bureau will most likely launch a full-scale investigation. It will be the biggest news to hit the country since Saddam Hussein's capture.”

Alicia's smile was bittersweet. Stopping the flow of illegal weapons to the enemy was not only necessary but was the honorable thing to do. Knowing she'd done what was right was one thing. Knowing she'd just signed her father's death warrant was another.

“That's good,” she said.

John saw her chin tremble. He felt her pain and wished he wasn't beginning to care. But like Alicia, he was driven
to do what was right at all costs. Now that they'd done what she wanted to do, it was his turn. But how to use her without getting her hurt was going to be a problem.

“About Carruthers…does he still live in Boston?” Corbin asked.

“Yes.”

Corbin grinned. “Fabulous. I have a favorite pub there that serves the best corned beef on rye I've ever eaten. Do you like corned beef on rye?” he asked.

For Alicia, the mere mention of food brought the threat of another round of nausea. John saw her pale, then swallow several times in rapid succession. Once again, he chose sarcasm to give her the breathing space she needed.

“Personally, I don't eat anything I can't shoot with my trusty bow and arrow,” he drawled.

Corbin laughed, and thumped John on the shoulder. “You are such a wise-ass. That's only one of the reasons I like you.”

“I'm old. I've heard it all before,” John fired back, and then cupped Alicia's elbow. “We need to get to the airport, and I don't want to call another cab.”

“I'll drive you,” Corbin offered.

“You're a very recognizable face. It would be best if we weren't seen together,” John said.

“True, true,” Corbin said, then snapped his fingers. “How about you drive yourselves in my car? Call me and tell me later where it's parked, and I'll take a cab and retrieve it.”

Alicia was touched by the trouble this man was willing to go to. “I want to say this again, I really appreciate everything you're doing on my behalf.”

“It's not just for you, Miss Ponte. If all this is true, our soldiers and our country have been betrayed. And…there's also the fact that you may have just handed me the story of the decade.”

Alicia felt as if she'd been slapped. “
If?
Are you saying you still don't believe me?”

“No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm a journalist. Everything for me has to be fact, and what you've told me has yet to be proved. What I am saying is…John Nightwalker believes you, and I believe in John Nightwalker.”

Alicia eyes filled with tears, but there was a set to her jaw that dared both men to keep their distance.

“I wish I could say the same,” she said bitterly.

John looked at Alicia, then at Corbin, his mouth twisting with regret. “It's a long story.”

Corbin seemed flustered. “Uh…can I make you two some sandwiches or something before you leave?”

John nodded. “That's nice of you, Corbin. Maybe a—”

“It's best I don't eat before I fly,” Alicia said.

John sighed. “Yeah, me, too. Besides, we had a big dinner earlier.”

Alicia stifled a gasp of disbelief. Was that John Nightwalker being considerate on her behalf?

“Then I'll be right back with the keys,” Corbin said, and hurried off.

John shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his back on Alicia.
Don't say it, woman. Don't be nice to me. Don't you dare. I need to keep all the distance I can between us to do what I have to do.

He heard her footsteps. She was right behind him.

“John.”

Shit. “Yeah?”

“How much do I owe you for our hotel room?”

He grinned. Way to go, lady. When he turned around, the smile was gone. “We didn't even get to sleep in it.”

“They'll still charge you for the night.”

“You are the most aggravating woman I think I've ever known,” he complained.

“Will a hundred and fifty cover it?” she asked.

“Perfectly,” John said, and held out his hand.

She dug in her purse, pulled out a wad of bills big enough to choke a horse and counted the money out in tens and twenties, then handed it to him. She knew John was irked. There was a muscle jerking in the side of his jaw, and his eyes were so dark they looked black.

He watched her flash the roll and knew she'd done it to back up her claim of being able to pay her way.

He pulled out a roll half the size of hers, but made up of nothing but hundred-dollar bills. He calmly folded what she'd given him into his roll before putting it back in his pocket.

Alicia's eyes widened at the sight. Then she grinned. She'd showed him hers. He'd shown her his. She sighed.

“You win,” she said.

“What?” John asked.

“Yours is bigger,” she said.

“And don't you forget it.”

They wouldn't look at each other, but the anger between them was gone. Somewhere between the tears and the double entendre, John had given up the fight. He didn't have to hate her to get what he wanted. Trouble was, she was the first woman in centuries who'd
intrigued him enough to want anything beyond a casual relationship. He could like her. He might even allow himself to enjoy her company—if she would let him. He just needed to remember not to fall in love.

 

The chopper flew west through the darkness. The night sky was clear and cloudless, and while John's path was guided partly by the gauges on the flight panel in front of him, he also knew where he was from the location of the stars. For centuries, on foot, then by horse, then in a variety of wheeled vehicles, he'd used the heavenly constellations as a road map. After he'd gotten a pilot's license, nighttime had become his favorite time to be in the air—giving him the illusion that he was almost close enough to touch those same stars that had forever guided him.

Outside the chopper, everything was inky-black. Inside, the array of lights on the panel was a mixture of red, green, yellow and white. The gauges glittered like the strings of lights on a Christmas tree, only to be reflected on the faces of John and his weary, airsick copilot, who'd fallen asleep more than two hours ago, after their last refueling stop.

There was a sense of peace, being so high, knowing that, for the time being, they were out of reach of evil. And there was another idea that kept pushing at the boundaries of John's world, the sense that this woman could become important to him in a permanent and personal way. But that notion was in complete opposition to his agenda. How could he have any kind of a relationship with her—how would she ever trust him—knowing the only reason he'd linked himself to her was
to get to her father? Would she believe his feelings had changed?

He sighed, weary to the core. So many years—so much time—and all of it spent searching for revenge. He couldn't help but wonder if the final irony was going to be visited upon him. What if he found and dispatched his enemy just as he was falling in love, then died as his enemy died? What irony. He'd had over five hundred years to get loving right, and he'd wasted it all chasing a ghost. He was damn sure the Old Ones weren't going to give him a few hundred years more to spend with a woman. He'd made his choice when he'd asked for the impossible. Whatever ensued when his fight was over, it would be what it would be.

Beside him, Alicia stirred. He glanced over, allowing himself the freedom to study her at leisure. Once they'd gotten airborne, she'd wiped off the makeup and managed to run a brush through her hair, although the T-shirt was still tied beneath her breasts, leaving her flat midriff bare.

She was too thin, and it had been ages since she'd eaten. As soon as they got to his place outside Sedona, he would get some food in her. Then they could rest for as long as they wanted. The property was listed as belonging to one of his companies. His name did not appear on any company rosters. It would take considerable skill to search through the maze of paperwork he'd laid down before anyone would know it was his.

He glanced down at the flight panel, then out the windows, and rocked his head from side to side, trying to loosen up stiff muscles. They were less than an hour away from their destination. He would be heartily glad to get out of this chopper and into a bed. The way he
felt now, he could sleep the clock around, although, with Alicia along, that wasn't going to happen.

“Are we there yet?”

John flinched. The sound of Alicia's voice was startling. The question wasn't.