Ten
Freika!
Yeah, I hear him.
Stay with Jane. Barely aware that the wolf had moved to join them, he thrust his bloody Nikon into her hands and turned to scan the area. Sensors, he ordered his computer. Pinpoint the Xeran’s location.
A flashing bright red X suddenly appeared across the highway from him, covering a human figure standing at the edge of a stand of trees. Baran started toward the man his computer had targeted, mentally cursing himself for coming out of riatt so soon. He couldn’t go back into the berserker state again until his computer had rebuilt its reservoir of neurochemicals. And the synthesizing process would take another half hour at least. Send me back into riatt as soon as possible, he ordered.
“What’s with him?” he heard Tom ask.
“I don’t know. Freika, dammit, get out of the way!”
Baran didn’t look around, but he knew the wolf was deliberately blocking her path. The last thing they needed was for her to get within striking range of the Jumpkiller.
Baran Arvid, Druas commed as Baran crossed the interstate. The Death Lord himself. Now, this is more like it. I knew it was you three hundred years from now, when I saw the vid footage those humans just shot of you ripping the door off that car. The killer’s tone was hearty, familiar, as if they were old friends meeting again after a long separation. You do realize the mystery around you is the reason these killings will become so famous? Which is ironic, when you think about it.
Do we know each other? Damn, he wasn’t up to a fight with the Xeran right now, but it looked as if he was going to get one anyway. Maybe if he could stall the bastard long enough, his computer would be able to throw him back into riatt.
And luckily, he still had the suit neutralizing ring the Enforcer had given him. If he could tag Druas with it long enough, it would knock the suit offline and he’d be able to beat the bastard to death.
Unfortunately, there was no guarantee Druas would let him get close enough. He had to keep the Xeran talking.
Druas began moving away, retreating slowly even as Baran approached. You have no idea how famous you are among the Xerans. Everyone talks about the Death Lord—all those wonderful duels, all the men you killed. And General Jutka’s put a very high price on your head, by the way.
So I heard.
I do believe you’ve got him shaking in his battle boots. I assume he is one of your targets? You’ve killed almost all the others who were present when your team was tortured.
At the moment I’m much more interested in you. Baran lengthened his stride. The man his computer had pinpointed grinned at him. The Xeran must be generating an image field; the figure staying just out of reach was short and potbellied, nothing like the mercenary’s true build.
That’s refreshing to hear. The man sauntered away again, keeping just ahead of his slow pursuit. Baran thought about breaking into a run, but he didn’t want to drive the killer into Jumping.
I was starting to get bored, Druas commed, circling him. The Ripper killings were entertaining, but hardly challenging. It’s not like the little bitches could fight back, could they? Though they did squeal well….
Baran snarled, remembering Mary Kelly’s helpless struggles.
Still, the killer continued, I was thinking of giving it up until I saw the archival footage of you while I was doing a little research. I recognized you the minute I saw you. Even at a distance the smile on the round, bland face was chilling. That’s when I realized the Tayanita killings were my work. I must have come here, and TE sent you after me. Now, there’s a challenge, I thought. Me against the Death Lord. Gave me a shiver. He beamed. And now here you are.
Eyes narrowing, the Warlord stopped in his tracks. Maybe the bastard would come closer if he didn’t follow. The question was, would Baran be able to put the Xeran down at normal strength? Not that he had a choice, with Jane’s life at risk. If you want a fight, I’ll be more than happy to oblige you.
But not yet, I’ll wager. You just dropped out of riatt, so you can’t power up again for a good half hour or so. Reading Baran’s expression, Druas grinned. Don’t look so surprised. I did a little research on Warlords when I decided to play this game. But I wonder—how much research did TE let you do on me?
They gave me all the data I need.
Oh, I doubt that. Knowing Temporal Enforcement, I’ll bet there’s a great deal they didn’t tell you. Though why they’re so afraid of causing a paradox, I have no idea. If the universe doesn’t die when you make the Jump to begin with, you can do whatever the hell you want. The grin on that round, ordinary face took on a thoroughly inhuman cast. And there’s a long list of things I want to do to sweet Jane.
Baran fought to keep his rage from showing. You’ll never lay a hand on her.
Won’t I?
No. Because I’ll kill you before you get that close.
The killer sauntered closer until he was just out of Baran’s reach, bland human eyes studying him with cruel interest. You’re fucking her already, aren’t you? I wondered about that. Is she good?
You’ll never know. To his computer, he thought, How much longer to riatt?
Twenty minutes.
Too long. Too damn long.
Actually, Druas said, before this is over I’ll find out exactly how good she is. But not yet. If you’ll excuse me, I have women to kill, police to mystify…
Hell. Baran lunged for the killer. He risked getting caught in the backwash of the Jump, but if he could just pin him long enough for the ring to do its work…He clamped a hand around the man’s wrist.
“Idiot.” Druas’s fist slammed into Baran’s head so hard he saw stars, but he didn’t let go. “You’re going to get fried, you fool!” And he was right; Baran could feel the energy of the Jump building as the killer’s armor began to glow.
Warning! Temporal field building! The comp blared, its voice seeming to echo in his skull. Step back! Baran ignored it, blocking another hard punch, intent only on holding on. The ring was heating on his hand….
Too late. A blinding white light exploded in the center of his vision as an electric jolt tore though his body. Something picked him up and threw him with an eardrum-shattering boom.
He never felt the ground come up and hit him.
Jane, trapped behind the furry barrier of Freika’s body, saw a lightning bolt knock Baran ten feet like the slap of a giant’s hand. He hit the pavement flat on his back as a thunderous boom drowned out her scream.
Freika whirled and raced toward his fallen partner, a black streak faster than any dog she’d ever seen. Jane sprinted after him, her heart in her throat, dimly aware of Tom pounding at her heels.
Baran lay sprawled on his back, his eyes closed, his face so pale his scarlet tattoo looked like blood. His brawny arms and legs were flung wide, lacerated palms upward. Freika nuzzled his face, whining like the dog he wasn’t. Jane fell to her knees beside him, reaching desperately for the pulse in his strong throat. It throbbed comfortingly against her fingers, but he didn’t move. “Baran! Baran, wake up!”
She’d known him less than twenty-four hours. How had he become so damn important to her so damn fast?
Jane looked wildly at Freika. The wolf jerked his head, but she couldn’t tell what he was trying to communicate. Unfortunately, they didn’t dare talk in front of Tom.
“Paramedics!” the detective bellowed, but the standby ambulance crew was already pounding toward them.
“What the hell happened?” Jane heard one yell.
“Dunno,” Tom called back. “Looked like maybe a lightning strike, but there’s not a cloud in the sky, and I don’t see any power lines nearby.”
“How is he? What’s going on?” Jane whispered fiercely to Freika while the detective was distracted.
The wolf pressed against her and whispered back. “His comp says he’s okay. He just got in too close when Druas Jumped.”
“Druas was here?” She looked around wildly, remembering Mary Kelly’s blackening face, the silver flash of the knife, the spray of blood and tissue…. Instinctively she covered Baran’s big, helpless body with her own.
“He’s gone now.”
“Is he conscious?” Tom demanded, kneeling by Jane’s side as she slumped in relief.
“No.” She picked up one of Baran’s bloodied hands, examined it anxiously. The wound was already crusting over.
Tom frowned. “Then who were you talking to?”
Damn, he’d heard Freika. “He was babbling,” she improvised.
“Get back, miss.” The paramedic pushed her aside. She sat back on her heels. He put two fingers to Baran’s throat, then lifted one of his eyelids. Jane craned her neck anxiously, but the Warlord’s irises were simple human brown. “Pupils reactive, pulse is good,” the man said. “Don’t see any sign of electrical burns.”
The second EMT pulled a blood pressure cuff out of his bag and reached to wrap it around one of Baran’s thick biceps. Jane sensed rather than saw the blur of motion. The EMT yelped.
One of Baran’s huge hands was wrapped around the paramedic’s throat in a stranglehold as he held the man stiff-armed, half off his knees. As she watched in horror, the man’s face began to darken. He gagged, clawing helplessly at Baran’s choking fingers.
Brown eyes blazed as Baran peeled his lips back from his teeth, snarling at the EMT in an alien language. The words might be incomprehensible, but the tone of murderous threat was crystal clear.
“Baran!” Jane cried as both she and Tom grabbed for his hand and fought to pry away his choking fingers. “Let him go! He’s trying to help you! It’s okay!”
Baran’s gaze flicked to hers as the paramedic gagged.
“Let him go, mister!” Tom snapped.
The big hand released its hold. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, and sat up as the paramedic choked in a breath and fell back on his butt. “Didn’t know where I was.”
The EMT steadied his gagging partner and eyed him warily. “Lie back down and let us have a look at you, sir. You were unconscious for more than a minute. You may have a concussion.”
“I’m fine,” he said, and proved it by getting to his feet. Jane scrambled up, ready to steady him. She thought he swayed, but caught himself almost instantly.
“Beg to differ, son,” Tom said, stepping in close to study him. “Looked to me like you just got struck by lightning. You need a ride to the emergency room to get checked out.”
Where, Jane realized, an X ray might reveal entirely too much about the Warlord’s genetically engineered body. But if he really was hurt…
“I don’t have time for that,” Baran said crisply. “I don’t know what you saw, but I didn’t get hit by lightning.” He glanced skyward. “Obviously. There’s not a cloud in the sky.” Dark eyes turned to Jane. “Let’s go.”
“Your hands are badly cut, mister. You need stitches….”
“Let him go, Dave.” The paramedic rubbed his throat and coughed. “Man wants to leave, you don’t want to stand in his way.”
Baran started off across the highway, Freika trotting at his heels. Jane stared after his broad back, worried, then hurried after them.
Behind her, she heard Tom say, “That was thoroughly fucking weird.”
The paramedic coughed again. “Tell me about it.”
“You should have at least let them clean those wounds,” Jane said, running to keep up with his long strides.
“My computer will take care of it,” Baran said. “I just have to get the glass out.”
“There’s glass in the wound? Idiot. Why didn’t you—”
“Because right now Druas is somewhere in this town, deciding who to kill,” Baran interrupted, shooting a quelling glance at her over his shoulder. “And I need to get to him before he makes up his mind.”
Jane cursed and absently clicked her key fob so she could open the door for him, sparing his lacerated palms. “Didn’t your time cops identify the targets?”
“No. Evidently, they don’t want me to save at least some of them.” He shrugged. “The paradox problem.”
“Bastards.”
“That does sum it up.” He eased into the seat.
She caught the shoulder belt and leaned over his lap to fasten it. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in the back….” Jane looked up and found herself face to face with him. Suddenly she realized her hands rested in his lap, inches from the swelling bulge of an erection. His mouth was close enough to kiss. Baran’s eyes kindled into a hot male blaze that made her swallow. She froze, hardly daring to blink, like a woman afraid of goading a tiger into attack.
“He always gets horny after he’s been in riatt,” Freika told her, sticking his furry head around the door. “After he quits wanting to puke, anyway. Hormones…” He nudged her wrist with his muzzle, jolting her out of her hypnotized fascination with Baran’s blatant lust. “Hey, either step aside or open the back door for those of us without opposable thumbs.”
A hot blush rolling over her cheeks, Jane took a hasty step back and slammed the passenger door on Baran’s feral interest. With a relieved breath, she opened the back to get the first-aid kit and one of the bottles of water floating in the cooler’s melted ice. Freika jumped past her and settled himself in the seat. “You know, I hope this thing has better safety equipment than the one that woman was riding in.”
“Not really.”
The thunk of the closing door drowned out the wolf’s next grumble.
Horny. The man’s hands were sliced to ribbons, and he was horny. Hell, he’d directed so much erotic heat at her, she could almost hear her own body sizzle.
There isn’t time for this, Jane told herself sternly, striding around the SUV to the driver’s side, carrying the bottle of water with the kit tucked under her arm. We’ve got to figure out where Druas is going.
She opened the door and hopped up into the driver’s seat, dumping the water and first-aid kit into Baran’s lap. “I’ll find a place to pull over so we can tend your hands. Though I still say we should let the paramedics—”
“I don’t want them getting a closer look at me than they already have.” Evidently having flipped off his lust as quickly as he’d turned it on, he opened the kit to assess its contents. He pulled out a pair of tweezers.
“What’s this reeatt thing?” Jane asked after she’d pulled onto the highway into the northbound traffic. The cars in the southbound lane were just starting to edge past the woman’s crumpled Toyota under the direction of cops and firefighters. The victim herself had long since gone off in the back of an ambulance.
Jane glanced over at her passenger and almost ran off the road when she realized he was using the tweezers to dig into his injury. “Jesus, Baran, let me take care of that! Or at least wait until I pull over.”
“I can do it,” he said, pulling something from his palm she realized was a bloody chunk of safety glass.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” She pointed the SUV for the nearest exit.
Baran shrugged his broad shoulders. “My computer dulls the pain.”
“Well, that’s something anyway.” Sighing, Jane drove up the off-ramp and turned left on a less-traveled street. “So what’s this reeatt thing again?”
She asked the question as much to distract herself as him. Jane didn’t ordinarily consider herself particularly squeamish—not in her line of work. But somehow it made a difference that it was Baran bleeding all over her front seat, Baran in pain, Baran digging into his own skin with a pair of tweezers….
“Not reeatt, riatt,” he corrected absently, depositing the glass sliver in the empty trash bag hanging from the SUV’s central floor hump.
“It’s kind of a computer-induced berserker state,” Freika explained, thrusting his head between the seats. “Increases his strength by a factor of ten. The drawback is that his judgment goes to hell. He doesn’t feel pain in riatt, and without combat armor to protect him, he tends to break bones and cut himself all to hell doing something the human body isn’t designed to do. Here, let me lick that….”
“Ack!” Jane planted an elbow under his jaw and pushed his head back. “Get away from there. You want to give him an infection?”
“Freika’s computer secretes antibiotics in his saliva when I’m hurt,” Baran explained, raising his hand for the wolf’s swiping tongue.
“Which taste nasty,” Freika noted, licking.
Jane fastened her eyes firmly on the road. “Y’all are making me sick. Anyway, can’t your own computer do the antibiotic thing?”
“It does, but Freika does a better job on topical treatment.” He lifted an eyebrow. “‘Y’all’?”
“My Southern accent comes out under stress.” Spotting a likely place to pull over, she whipped the SUV off onto the shoulder. Deciding it was time for a subject change, Jane asked as she opened the driver’s door, “What are we going to do about Druas?”
“Personally, I think killing him’s a dandy idea,” Freika observed.
“Duh,” she said, getting out of the truck and leaving the door open as she started around the SUV’s massive hood. “I mean, how are we going to stop him from killing whoever he’s planning to kill?”
“I have no idea, but I’m damn well going to try,” Baran told her as she opened the passenger door and stepped to his side. “There’s another piece in my right hand. I can’t seem to get it out with my left. Can you try?”
She flinched mentally, then gave him a determined smile. “Sure. So what are we going to do now?”
“Exactly what we were doing before our little detour—check the hotels. If he’s at one of them, I should be able to sense him.” Baran handed her the tweezers as she cradled his hand in one of hers.
“What if he’s not there when we go by?”
“Then we’re out of luck, and his next victim’s dead. She may be already. Or close to it.” He clenched the other fist on his knee. “If I hadn’t dropped out of riatt…”
“If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t even have gotten that close to him,” Freika pointed out. “Druas knows better than to allow a berserk Warlord within striking distance.”
Jane’s delicate probes with the tweezers discovered something hard buried in his bloodied flesh. “You’ve got it,” Baran said.
“Joy,” she muttered between her teeth and tried to close the tweezers around the tiny object. “So in riatt you’re stronger than Druas, right?”
“Possibly,” Baran said.
Her tweezers slipped. She growled.
“Then again, possibly not,” Freika observed, leaning around Baran’s seat. “He’s got cybernetic implants that increase his strength, but it’s not clear by how much. He could be weaker than Baran, but then again, he could be a lot stronger.”
The Warlord nodded. “We won’t know for sure until I fight him.”
Jane clamped her lower lip between her teeth and jerked the piece of glass free. “Has anybody ever heard of the concept of firearms?” She tossed the piece into the trash bag and looked at Baran. “Is that it for the glass fragments, please, God?”
“Yeah.” He extended his hand to Freika. “But nobody but an idiot would try to make a Jump with an energy weapon. The Tachyon power packs would react with the temporal field and blow you to hell and gone.” Jane looked away as the wolf started cleaning the injury. Taking the water bottle out of his lap, she dumped part of its contents over the tweezers, washing them off. After tossing them back in the first aid box, she rummaged around in it for the roll of gauze to wrap his wound with. When she found it, she ripped it open and took his hand again.
“So what about weapons from this time? Like a gun, for instance.” Jane remembered her father’s pistol, buried in his stuff somewhere in the attic. “Couldn’t you just shoot him?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but it probably won’t do any good. According to the sensor readings I just took, that T-suit Druas is wearing is armored. I doubt one of your contemporary firearms could puncture it.”
Still thinking, she wound the gauze around his hand. “So does he wear a helmet?” She knew from covering cops that all the body armor in the world wouldn’t protect you against a head shot.
“No, but his skeletal system is reinforced, so I doubt a bullet would get through his skull, either.”
“On the other hand, they still haven’t managed to do a damn thing about the fragility of gray matter,” Frieka pointed out. “If you battered him enough, you could bounce his brain around in that thick skull until he died of cerebral swelling.”
Baran shrugged. “If he didn’t manage to kill you in the meantime.”
Jane sighed. “Damn. It just can’t be easy, can it?” The Warlord’s hand felt deliciously warm in hers. Suddenly she found herself uncomfortably aware of him.
An image flashed through her mind: Baran moving over her, his head thrown back so the cords stood out in high relief in his powerful throat.
Then she flashed on the sight of his big body, sprawled and helpless on the pavement. Her grip tightened convulsively on his hand. She’d thought she’d lost him.
She still could. If he fought Druas and lost…
You don’t have him to lose, Jane told herself fiercely, tying off the bandage. He’s not going to stay with you, you idiot. As soon as this is over—one way or another—he’s going back to his own time.
And she couldn’t afford to let him take her heart with him when he did.
Clamping her lower lip between her teeth, she started wrapping his other hand. Despite the injuries he’d suffered, his palm was broad and square and solid, his fingers long, beautiful. She remembered how skilled they’d felt, teasing her nipples into tight points, sliding into her sex in deliciously seductive strokes. Something hot gathered below her belly button.
Cut that out. We don’t have time for this.
Which was when she glanced down at his lap—and the thick bulge that swelled behind his fly as she watched. She looked up to find his eyes were locked on her face again, heavy-lidded and hungry.
And glowing.
Jane started to draw back, but a gauze-wrapped hand lifted to cup the side of her face. The touch made her breath catch. Slowly he leaned forward until his mouth touched hers in a velvet-gentle kiss that made her heart pound. His tongue slipped over her upper lip, tempting her into opening for him. When she gasped, he slid inside slowly, taking his time. She heard a helpless, needy moan and realized it was her own.
“Well, if you’re going to do that, I’m going to go catch squirrels,” Freika announced. He slid between the seats and hopped out the open driver’s door. “Maybe I’ll get a little tail.”
Jane didn’t even register the quip. Her every sense was focused on Baran—the taste of his mouth, the warmth of his gauze-wrapped hand.
So even though she knew it was the wrong place, the wrong time, and the wrong man…
She didn’t care.
They didn’t have time for this.
He knew it. Knew he should cage his growling hunger and get back to work. Normally he’d be able to do just that, despite the hunger riatt had touched off. All it would take is a single order to his comp, and neuronet would chemically cool his ardor and let him concentrate again.
But she felt so damn fragile.
Every time Baran remembered Druas’s smug voice spewing those poisonous threats, rage and desperation rolled over him, and he felt the driving need to touch her, reassure himself that she was alive.
So very hot and alive.
She shouldn’t mean this much to him. She was, after all, only another mission. He’d protected women before in situations every bit as dangerous, and it had never affected him like this.
But there was something about Jane.
Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t know enough to back down from him. Every other woman of his acquaintance would have hesitated to challenge, infuriate, or tempt him the way Jane did. A Warlord was not, after all, someone to take lightly. Particularly him. The Xeran did not give a nickname like “Death Lord” for no reason.
Yet he strongly suspected that even if Jane had known what he was capable of, she wouldn’t have acted any differently. After all, she was already well aware of his greater size and muscle, but that had never stopped her, either.
Which was why keeping her alive was not going to be easy.
Sweet goddess, what if Druas hadn’t been lying when he said this would end in her death? What if Baran really couldn’t save her?
No, damn it. No.
With a low, desperate growl he twisted in the seat until he could drag Jane against his body, feel the giving warmth of her belly against his stone-hard erection.
Soon women would be dying, and Baran knew with a black, hopeless despair he’d fail to save at least some of them.
But Jane was here, warm and soft, so deliciously soft, and he was going to protect her no matter what he had to do.
She was his. And right now he was going to claim her.
Even if, one way or another, he’d eventually have to give her up.