Chapter Twenty-Six
The next day, Merrick found something. He got an interesting video from Kaleo's hotel. It showed Kaleo talking to another man. Kaleo looked upset, but the other man remained calm and grim. They finally left together. Their argument provided Merrick with enough angles for him to get a clear image of the man's face. That image got him an ID. The guy was a local. He lived in Lynnwood, about 16 miles away.
“What do you mean, I'm not going?” I demanded.
“I think that's a pretty clear statement,” Rune said dryly.
“But an incorrect one,” I shot back.
“You're staying here,” Brax said in his that's-final tone.
“I don't want to sit here waiting and wondering.”
“Too bad,” Merrick said.
They headed for the door.
I tried another angle. “So, you're going to leave me unprotected?”
“You're safe in the house,” Rune said.
“Do not leave,” Brax added.
“Don't even go into the backyard,” Merrick said. “The ward is around the house alone. Stay in the house.”
I made a frustrated sound, but I knew they were right. There was nothing I could add to the mission. I'd only be a liability. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” Rune kissed me, taking his time to put a little love into it.
As Rune stepped away, Braxen looked at me. I smiled and went into his arms. Brax nuzzled my neck with a happy sound before raising his lips to mine. We still hadn't finished what we'd started, I didn't even have a chance to tell him I loved him, but I think he knew. And I knew he loved me too.
Then there was Merrick. He cleared his throat and came up to me. I lifted a brow at him. He leaned down and pecked my cheek, as quick as a hen. Then he was gone.
Rune snorted a laugh as he watched Merrick flee. “That's still a huge improvement.”
“Oh, I know,” I said. Then I went serious, “Be careful.”
“We will.”
I followed them to the garage door, then stood in the doorway, watching them climb into their van. Inside was all the equipment they might need, including restraints for a possible captive. The garage door opened, and they backed out, then pulled away. As it shut again, I realized why I was so upset to be left behind. It wasn't that I was worried about them. It was revenge. I wanted some for Kaleo Chang. And I wanted to get it myself.
But as much as Braxen had insinuated that I was a warrior, I wasn't. I had never been trained to fight. I hadn't shot a gun in years. I didn't even know any defensive moves. Hermes had always seen to my safety. He was the one who insisted I learn how to shoot, but only in case of an emergency. And as I said, the last time I held a gun had been years ago. Like over twenty. I always trusted him to take care of me. When he left, I was frightened for a while, and I once pulled out the gun he had given me, but it turned out to be unnecessary. A false alarm. By the time Hermes had left me, the world was a safer place, especially for those with money. I did all right on my own.
“Is that why he left when he did?” I whispered as I closed the garage door. “Did he want to leave sooner, but was worried about me being on my own?
Well, didn't that just burn my butt? I didn't like feeling weak. I decided then that when the men returned, I'd ask them to teach me how to defend myself. Hand-to-hand combat, not just firearms.
I turned and faced the kitchen. What should I do while they're gone?
Yes, you know I snooped. Had to be done. This was going to be my home, and these men were going to be my lovers, so I felt entitled to look through their stuff. I wandered through the lower rooms, looking for anything of interest. Finally, I went upstairs. Each of the bedrooms was different. Braxen had a pretty minimal aesthetic, Merrick liked everything modern, and Rune had an old-world style but with a masculine twist. Like Goldilocks, I chose the in-between. Rune's room was my favorite.
But then I found another room I hadn't seen yet. Not a bedroom; there was no bed. Freestanding shelves, trunks, and cases filled the room. In them were every weapon imaginable, secured in heavy-duty cases. I found crates of ammunition, grenades, every sort of gun you could want, knives, swords, a fucking battleaxe, and even a rocket launcher. As I ran my hand over a selection of throwing stars, a strange feeling came over me.
I heard Braxen's voice in my head again: “Lomasi of the Tsimikiti, I know you are born of warriors. You are the last of your kind, more special than you know.”
Maybe I wasn't trained, but I wasn't a woman to stay behind either. It had been a while, but I could fire a gun. Just like riding a bike. No problem. My stare landed on the rocket launcher. It would probably put me on some kind of government watchlist, but I googled how to use it. Just in case. Honestly, it didn't look that hard. You really just needed to know how to load and hold the thing, then it was point and shoot. Oh, and evidently, they're called RPGs. I had no idea what that stood for and I didn't care. There was a warning about the kickback and backblast (two different things evidently), but I'd deal. If I had to use that thing, the kickback would be the least of my concerns.
I packed a duffel bag with guns, grenades, and ammunition. Then, feeling like a character in a video game, I strapped knives over my thighs. Good thing I had worn jeans that morning. The rocket launcher wasn't as big as you might think, but it still had to go in its own bag. Fitted out like Mad Max, I carted it all downstairs, making two trips. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was oddly calm. I grabbed Braxen's keys and went to the massive blue truck. A ram's head stared at me skeptically from the tailgate as I loaded my weapons into the bed. I glared at it. Before I could lose my nerve, I got in the driver's seat.
I had already typed in my destination on my phone, so I was ready to go. I hit the button to raise the garage door, pulled out, and drove off. Once I hit the main road, the automated voice started telling me where to turn. It all felt very normal. Yup, just driving through Seattle with a truck full of weapons. Enough to arm a band of mercenaries.
“You have arrived at your destination,” my phone said.
I parked across the street from the driveway and stared up the line of cracked cement. The house was set back from the road, cut off from its neighbors by wooden fences. It looked perfectly normal. The yard was a little unkempt. A sprinkler sat adrift in a sea of dying grass, the attached hose trailing off into the weeds like a snake. Nothing screamed “minion of a ghost.”
Until someone did scream.
No, not a scream—a roar. It was faint, but I heard it. And I recognized the voice. It was Braxen. He was in pain.
My blood heated. Shivers ran over my arms, leaving behind a different person. I felt the change come over me. I was no longer Lora but Lomasi, mate to a Cerberus. In seconds, I was tearing down the driveway in the truck, my jaw clenched as hard as my hands on the steering wheel. I came to a stop just a foot from the front door and jumped out. I felt possessed as I set foot on the back bumper and launched myself into the truck bed. I wasn't a ninja. I didn't even play one on TV. I had no idea what I was doing.
No, that's wrong. I had an idea, but it was fueled by videos from the Internet. So much could go wrong. But I wasn't thinking about that. Braxen's bellow had cracked me open, and I was coming out of my shell, reborn. A fucking warrior butterfly.
With crisp movements, I opened the RPG's case and then the one that held the ammunition. The thing was basically a large tube with one side wider than the other. Not at all like the huge things you see in movies. But hopefully, it would pack the same punch. I loaded it, knelt, set the thing on my shoulder, and aimed it at the front door. Bad idea. Such a bad idea. The guys could be right behind that door. But something told me they weren't. That roar had been too faint. So, I pulled the trigger.
And I screeched as not only did the rocket shoot out from the front of the RPG but fire also exploded out the back, and I went tumbling into the side of the truck. A cloud of smoke floated over my head—from both the weapon and the house. The boom of the thing seemed to shake the world.
When I got up, I was glad that I'd been blasted on my ass. There was debris everywhere, but the truck bed had protected me from most of it. The whole front of the house was gone, broken furniture and charred carpet showing through the hole like rotten teeth. Fire ate at the remains like a scavenger, but was only gnawing for the moment. My ears rang a bit, but nothing bad, and my immortal healing would soon take care of that.
Sure enough, as I loaded a machine gun, my hearing came back in full force, bringing shouts and screams to my notice. The neighbors were probably calling the police. I nodded to myself and climbed out of the truck, the unwieldy weapon hanging off my shoulder. As if I thought I was fucking Ripley, I strode to the hole in the house and positioned the gun. I guess an escaped soul from the Underworld was a type of alien.
“Hold on, boys,” I growled. “Mama's coming.”
Climbing over debris and dodging little fires, I entered the remains of the house. There was more left than I thought, the structure going back and down. I knew about the downstairs because there were holes in the foyer floor, and I could see straight down into a basement bedroom. I carefully navigated the mess, my hands steady and stare swinging. Searching for any sign of my Cerberus.
Another roar came, this one triumphant.
I turned, heading toward the sound.
Men came racing down the hallway I was in. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
“Damn it,” I muttered as I flipped off the safety.
“What the fuck?” one of the men exclaimed as the group came to a stumbling halt.
“Give Hades my regards,” I growled and tried again.
This time, it worked. And this time, I was prepared to be launched backward and set my right foot firmly behind me. But the kickback wasn't anything like the RPG. Still, my wide-legged stance came in handy, steadying me as I mowed the men down. A thrill raced down my spine as I watched them crumple. It was probably wrong to take delight in killing people, but these bastards had tried to hurt good men who had given up their afterlives to protect the world.
Before I could step over the bodies, another wave of people came running down the corridor. I didn't hesitate. I fired until the gun clicked. Empty.
“Shit,” I muttered as I stared at the bodies. “I have to go back to the truck.”
But then came the sound of heavy footsteps. I tossed the machine gun on the floor and pulled a handgun out of the waistband of my jeans. Calmly, I aimed, cupping the bottom of the handle with one palm, and waited for my enemy to appear.
Three men came around the corner. I flinched, just stopping myself in time before I pulled the trigger. They were covered in blood, so much blood that I couldn't tell where or how they were injured. But I still recognized my men. Yes, mine. The word cemented itself in my mind.
Mine.
And woe betide anyone who tried to hurt them.
“Holy fuck,” Rune whispered.
“Lomasi?” Braxen stumbled forward.
“Are there any more of them?” I demanded.
They looked at the bodies, then at the destruction behind me.
“Uh, no. I think you got them, sweetheart,” Merrick said.
Braxen got to me first. He gently took the gun from my hand and pulled me into his arms.
The other two processed.
Rune suddenly shouted, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
And that's when we heard the sirens. Combined with the thickening smoke of the spreading fires, it became a clear sign to leave.
“Let's go!” Braxen said as he grabbed my hand.
The other two didn't argue. They just followed us through the burning wreckage, Rune pausing only to retrieve the machine gun I had discarded. Outside, Brax lifted his brows at the sight of his truck but didn't pause. And he didn't pull any masculine bullshit either. He let go of me and ran to the driver's side, trusting me to get in on my own. I jumped in the passenger side, and the other two men ran past us.
In seconds, Braxen was backing out of the driveway at top speed, using only the rearview mirror as a guide. I had a feeling that if a car came down the road, he'd simply slam it aside and keep going. Luckily, the street was empty. He pulled out, spun the wheel, and sped off. We passed Rune and Merrick on the way. They were in the van and pulled out behind us.
As we left the neighborhood, I wondered how the police managed to catch anyone. I had blown up a house, killed a bunch of people, and still had time to leave.
Holy crap, I had killed people. The thought sank in. I looked down at my hands as they started to shake.
“Put on your seatbelt,” Brax said.
I looked at him. He looked straight out of a horror flick, but his expression was steady. The cleanest thing on him was the gun tucked into his waistband. He glanced at me and nodded toward the seatbelt.
I absently pulled it across my chest and fastened it.
“I'm a murderer,” I whispered.
“Baby girl, you are the most incredible woman I've ever met,” Braxen said. “You did what we couldn't and saved us. It wasn't murder; it was defense. And fuck me, but I love you all the more for it. I will never forget the way you looked standing there, backlit by the chaos you wrought, a pile of bodies at your feet, holding a gun like a fucking pro. I've never seen anything so beautiful.”
The shaking subsided. I stared at Braxen, seeing the man beneath the blood. My man. He was safe. Because of me. Calm returned. Braxen was right. I had done what I had to do to save them. I didn't know how I'd known that they needed help, but I had. It was their need that had propelled me into action.
And I would act again if necessary.