Dragon Charmed (Sentries #2)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He stumbled through the dark woods. Branches attacked his arms and face, leaving thin, bloody lines. Tree roots and wet ground threatened to send him sprawling.

Turning in a circle to get his bearings, he groaned as pain seared like liquid fire across his side and back. His heart pumped so hard he could feel it in his throat. Or was that fear he choked on?

Where am I?

He touched his side and cringed. What the hell happened? Wetness covered his palm, and he lifted it. The low light kept him from seeing the red coating it, but the telltale smell of copper hit his nose. From the amount of blood soaking through his makeshift bandages, he didn’t have much longer to find help before he collapsed—or worse.

Coming to a stop next to an upturned tree, he almost dropped against it before hesitating. If he sat down, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up again. The air he attempted to suck into his burning lungs didn’t prevent the black tunneling his vision.

I am not dying in these damn woods.

Taking a few steps, he blinked at a glimmer of light in front of him. Was it a mirage? A last-ditch effort of his mind to give him hope?

He blinked again, and the light remained, calling to him like a beacon as he swayed toward it. He lost track of time, and his steps slowed as what little energy he had left drained from him like the blood that ran down his side.

Staggering into a small clearing, he found a cabin, the beacon he saw earlier a light shining through the window. Someone had to be there. He knocked and the solid wood against his knuckles let him know he wasn’t imagining things.

A few seconds later the door opened, and he fell forward into the arms of an older man. “Hey now! What’s wrong?” The man was surprisingly strong, bearing his weight as he led him over to a chair and set him down.

“What happened to you?”

He shook his head as the man looked him over and removed the cloth wrapped around his middle. He hissed as it stuck to his wounds.

“You’ve made a mess of yourself.” The man stated it calmly as if he were looking at a skinned knee.

He walked over to a cabinet and collected some medical supplies and towels and set them on the table. “I’m Walter. I’m going to take care of you. What’s your name, son?”

Such a simple question, really, but his heart thumped louder, moving from his throat into his ears, making it difficult to hear. He frantically looked around the small cabin as if something, anything he saw might help him answer the question. Nothing did.

“I don’t know.”

Fifteen months later

Ben held the ax above his head for a moment before swinging it down in an arc. The wood split in half and fell to either side of the chopping block. He picked up another piece of wood and placed it on its end, raised the ax, and swung again. There was something soothing in the repetitive motion. Not much brought him peace, so he took it when and where he could.

It had been over a year since he collapsed on Walter’s doorstep, and he still couldn’t remember anything about himself. Where he came from, his family, his age, his history, period. Hell, Walter had been the one to tell him they were in the Appalachian Mountains in Tennessee. The older man truly lived off the land and had taken him under his wing. Ben had learned to hunt, fish, and garden.

Walter started to call him Ben when his own name refused to come back to him. What did it mean when your own identity left you high and dry? And an even scarier question that had him gripping the ax harder as his palms started to sweat: what if he was better off without it?

The cabin door opened, and Walter came outside and walked toward him. “You ready for lunch?”

Ben split another piece of wood before responding. “I could eat.”

Walter nodded. “I didn’t want to interrupt your thinking time, but I’m starting to get hungry.”

Ben turned to him. “My what?”

Walter grinned. “When you’re trying to figure something out, you come out here and chop wood. From the pile you got goin’, I’d say you’ve been thinking a lot.”

Ben set the ax down and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Tell me everything you remember about the night I showed up here.”

“I might take a seat if we’re goin’ to talk about this.” Walter moved over to the wood bench and sat. “That night I heard something outside. Thought it was a raccoon or some other critter since I don’t get guests out here. When you knocked on the door, I was surprised, and when you fell into my arms, more so.”

“You didn’t act shocked to see a bloody man.”

Walter shrugged. “I spent enough years in the military to see a bunch of bloody men. Lucky for you, I learned a few things about patchin’ people up.”

Ben was very aware of how lucky he was. “Walter—”

He held up his hand, interrupting Ben. “You don’t need to thank me again, son. You’ve done enough of that.” Walter chuckled. “Hell, the amount of wood you’re choppin’ will keep us warm through next winter. Seeing’s how we’re just heading into summer, I think you can slow down your efforts.”

Except Ben could never repay him for what he’d done for him. “I don’t remember much else from that night.” From his life, from anything…and Walter had let him stay here with him, no questions asked.

“You’d lost a lot of blood. Truth be told, I didn’t know if you’d last the night. But you did. And then while you recuperated, I realized you were too damn stubborn to die.”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry if I was a pain in the ass.”

Walter grinned. “Your brain wasn’t listening to what your body was tellin’ you is all. I knew it was goin’ to take a couple months of time before you would be able to do much of anything.”

Ben sat on the chopping block. “And I appreciate you not kicking me out. For letting me stay here even though I don’t know what happened or who I am.”

“Most of the people I’ve met in this world rely too much on their name and what they think it means. A person isn’t their name, but what they offer the world with their actions.”

Walter’s words reinforced what Ben was going to say next. “It’s time for me to figure out who I am and what happened to me.”

The old man looked at him for a moment before nodding. “I knew this day would come sooner or later.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t push me out months ago.”

Walter shook his head. “I know I can be a crotchety hermit, but I liked havin’ you around. I wasn’t goin’ to push you to do anything. You had to be ready to go look for yourself and be prepared for what you might find.”

Ben’s stomach fell at the words. “Someone could be wondering where I am.”

“Possibly. But I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“I know.” Ben brushed wood shavings from his leg. “Someone tried to kill me.”

Walter frowned. “Or some thing . I’ve never seen the types of wounds you had—more like claw marks, and then that burn mark on your chest, like you were struck with lightning or something.”

Unable to sit still any longer, Ben stood and started to pace. “And you said there aren’t any dangerous animals around here.”

“Yep. Any big cats are extinct in this area. We do have some black bears, but most are interested in food and not foolin’ with humans. And those marks didn’t look like a black bear attack to me.”

“I wish I had some sort of clue. Did you find anything in my clothes that night?”

Walter shook his head. “I checked for identification. You didn’t have any. But you did have somethin’ else with you.”

Ben tripped to a stop and turned. “I did?”

Walter stood and headed toward the small barn, and Ben followed him inside. Walter walked over to a stall and squatted down in the corner, moved a box, and pulled a duffel from a depression in the earth.

Ben barely stopped from grabbing it from him. “I was carrying that?”

“You had it strapped over your shoulder; otherwise you probably would have lost it in the forest.”

Ben’s nerves jangled. “Did you look in it?”

“Yep. You practically bled to death in my kitchen, and I needed to know what the hell I was dealin’ with.”

Walter handed the bag to Ben, who froze. “Why didn’t you show me this before now?”

“Because it doesn’t have anything in it that tells you who you are.”

Ben set the bag on a rough-hewn table along the wall. His hand shook as he unzipped and pulled it open. He jerked back like it held a venomous snake.

“Shit,” Ben growled at the stacks of money piled inside. “Why did you hide this?”

“You told me to that first night. Half out of your mind with a fever, you begged me to hide it.”

He bent forward, hands on his thighs as he tried to suck in a breath. “Shit. I’m a criminal.”

“I don’t think so, son.”

Ben jerked upright and gestured at the open bag. “How in the hell can you say that? What good guy carries around money like this?”

“I’ve met a lot of evil people in my life, and you’re not one of them. I don’t know what the money is for, but you’re not a bad person.”

Ben wished he had Walter’s confidence. “How much is in there?”

“Don’t know.”

Ben couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. “You never counted it?”

“Nope. Didn’t need to know.” Walter smiled. “Although all those Benjamins did give me the idea for your name.”

“Well, I need to know,” Ben said, picking up the duffel.

“Bring it into the cabin then, and you can count while I make lunch.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ben set the last stack of cash on the table and wanted to throw up. “Fifty thousand dollars. Jesus. Who has that kind of cash in a duffel bag? Drug dealers or money launderers for the mob. Or I could be selling illegal weapons. Or what if I’m a kidnapper and this is ransom money?”

Walter stirred the pot on the stove. “Don’t jump to those types of conclusions.”

“How can I not?”

“Maybe you were running away from the bad guys. Did you ever think of that?”

“Or maybe I double-crossed them.” Ben picked up the empty duffel, turned it inside out and ran his hands along the sides and up along the top. His fingers bumped against extra material next to the zipper, and he yanked on the loose stitches holding it together. The material gave way, and a folded piece of paper fell out.

Walter came over to the table. “What did you find?”

Ben unfolded the small square. “A name. John Baker and an address and phone number. There is also another note at the bottom. ‘Find Mia White.’”

“Do you recognize either name?” Walter asked.

He closed his eyes and prayed for something to come to him. “No.”

“I’m sorry, son.”

Ben looked up at him. “For what?”

“I was waitin’ to give you the money when you were ready to figure out your past. If I’d seen that paper, I’d have given it to you before now.”

“Walter, you saved my life and let me live with you for over a year while I tried to remember what the hell happened. There is nothing you need to apologize for.”

He nodded. “Well, at least now you can go talk to this John Baker.”

Ben set the paper on the table. “You want me to go knock on this guy’s door and ask him if he knows me?”

“At this point, what have you got to lose?”

He blew out a harsh breath. “What if I’m an assassin and this was my payoff to kill him?”

“Then he has more to worry about than you do, right?” Walter grinned at him.

Ben couldn’t help but chuckle. “You have an interesting way of looking at the world.”

“I try.” Walter rubbed his hands together. “It’s settled then. Time to get you out into the world. Larry can hook you up.”

Ben couldn’t have heard him right. “What did you just say?”

Walter smiled. “When Larry comes up here to drop off supplies, I’ll have him take you back to town. He knows people who know people. They can set you up.”

“Larry Cooper who comes up here every six weeks or so with toilet paper and toothpaste knows people who know people?”

“Yep. I expect him to show up in the next few days.”

“And what are these people going to set me up with?”

“They can set you up with an ID.”

Ben shook his head. “No—”

Walter held up his hand. “Son, you don’t have any identification. You can’t do anythin’ without some sort of ID. Do you want to go to the cops and ask them to figure out who you are?”

Hell no . Even with Walter insisting he wasn’t a bad guy, Ben didn’t think it was smart to walk into a police station until he knew what his name was and why the hell he was hauling around fifty thousand dollars. He shook his head.

Walter continued. “I figured as much. At least you got money to help you get around for now. And before you protest again, I know you don’t want to use the money. Until you know who you are or where it came from, you have to use some of it to go out into the world.”

He couldn’t keep the grin off his face at Walter’s enthusiasm. He was an interesting guardian angel, if Ben believed in that sort of thing.

“Now put all that money back and go wash up for lunch.”

Ben’s grin slipped away as he put the stacks of money in the bag. Carrying around cash like this couldn’t be a good thing. And someone had tried to kill him—whether that was due to something he did or didn’t do ultimately didn’t matter if they came after him to finish the job.