“Excuse me, sir, but I thought you’d like to know I’ve finished sweeping the house. Everything’s clear. If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll get out of your way.”
“Thanks for coming on short notice, Jake. I’ll walk you out.” Chaz headed toward the foyer with one of the few men they all trusted to make sure no one had bugged their homes. After all, if the Regents who gathered together couldn’t speak freely, then what was the point?
When they reached the front door he said, “Tell Jarvis I appreciate him letting me borrow your services again.”
“Not a problem.”
With the few minutes Chaz had left before the others arrived, he studied the agenda for the night’s meeting. Most was routine, but his fellow Regents were starting to press hard for details about Kincade’s escapades and their far-reaching effects on the Seattle sector and beyond.
Unfortunately, Sasha had remained remarkably close-mouthed about her findings so far. After all, she was her father’s daughter. She wouldn’t tell them a damn thing until she was good and ready. He couldn’t fault her for that, even if it was inconvenient for him and his plans.
Luckily, he had his own source busy gathering intelligence out there. Rusty had reported the fighting up and down the I-5 corridor had been incredibly bloody and vicious, although it had finally settled down some. Additionally, a guard had damn near killed one of the pet Kalith. Too bad he’d failed.
A car pulled into his driveway, the first of his guests arriving right on time. Tonight’s agenda also included discussion about what to do about Colonel Kincade himself. It really was a damn shame Devlin Bane had let the bastard live. Yes, the Paladin had shown admirable restraint and all that, but he’d left it up to the Regents to decide the traitor’s fate.
Unfortunately Kincade knew where a lot of skeletons were buried. Who knew what would happen if he started naming names? They all stood to suffer if that happened. God knows who would be tainted when Kincade was finished. Maybe it would be better for everyone if the bastard were to die in custody. It had happened before.
The doorbell chimed softly. Time to put his game face on.
Duke pounded the heavy bag, his hands aching from the punishment, but he kept going. In his head, he wasn’t hitting heavy canvas patched with duct tape at all. No, he was beating the enemy to a bloody pulp.
He stopped the swinging bag with his hands, needing a moment to let his lungs catch up. Thanks to the past few days of fighting, he was tired and sore, but he’d been unable to unwind enough to sleep.
With good reason, too. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the dying screams of his two friends. There would be no coming back for them, not like the Paladins. God, even after years of fighting beside them, he still couldn’t get used to seeing them dead one day and back up walking around the next. It was creepy. Unnatural.
He used to think they were okay, even considered them heroes. But that ended the day Devlin Bane let his prick start making his decisions for him. When that softhearted Handler he’d married told him to let that first Kalith live, things had gone to hell and stayed that way.
Duke unleashed his pent-up rage on the bag, pretending it was that bastard Larem. It didn’t help.
Another day at the most and Larem would be back on his feet. Duke hadn’t been the only one who’d hoped the Kalith’s wound would be fatal. But no, just like the Paladins, his ability to heal had kicked in and dragged him back from oblivion. What a fucking damn shame.
One of his fellow guards had tried to do the right thing by ridding the world of the pale-eyed killer and failed. Maybe the next attempt would succeed. With another punch, he imagined the sweet slide of a metal blade through Larem’s gut. A bullet would work, too, but where was the fun in that? He wanted that Kalith to die slowly and screaming for mercy, just like the guards had down in the tunnels. And Larem would only be the first.
Right jab, left. Right jab, left.
As he counted down the last of his routine, he thought about the other rumor he’d heard. Something about Sasha Willis. He didn’t want to believe it and wasn’t sure he did. But, God knows, there was certainly precedent for it.
Yesterday she had stopped by to visit Laurel Young’s lab and check on those injured in the fighting. That much was all right. Hell, he’d even applaud her efforts to bolster the morale. It had been too damn long since any of the upper management paid much attention to the grunts in the trenches.
That wasn’t the disturbing part. She’d had a long talk with Devlin Bane behind closed doors. Again, okay. But then she’d made a beeline to the curtained-off area where they’d stashed the wounded Kalith. What was up with that? Surely with a Regent for a father she knew better than to mistake the guy for anything but craziness waiting to happen.
But then Lacey Sebastian was shacked up with Barak despite her own brother being a Paladin. Cullen Finley was living with a Kalith woman and her two brats. It was like some kind of disease.
Last two reps—right, left, repeat. Finished. Maybe now he was tired enough to sleep. Picking up his gear, he headed for the showers.
Odd. There was something stuck in the door of his locker—a folded-up piece of paper. He listened hard to see if he was alone. On the way in, he’d passed that new guy, Rusty, but no one else. For sure, the paper hadn’t been there earlier.
It creeped him out big-time. What if he’d been cursing the Kalith’s name out loud without realizing it? If someone, anyone, had heard him, it could be disastrous. He needed this job no matter how bad things had gotten lately.
If this was some kind of prank, he’d beat the culprit to a bloody pulp. That’s what it had to be. Right? Only one way to find out: read the note.
The message was written in block letters: YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN HOW YOU FEEL. WE’LL BE IN TOUCH SOON.