Chapter Sixteen

The Sons of Cain used low and high tech in pursuing their targets—which is why Liam found an expensive laptop and a plain brown paper envelope holding the details of McKay’s mission.

Both were easy to break into—the laptop via an expert hacking program he’d kept on the USB flash drive and the envelope by simply opening it.

Of course, that was only possible after defusing the handful of traps set around the hotel room. They weren’t deadly, nothing as dramatic as a pin falling out of a grenade.

It was the little things that counted.

A paper clip set on the desk drawer, poised to fall off if the drawer were opened. The luggage zipper exactly thirteen teeth down.

Liam went around the room carefully, noting the traps. Many of them he’d used in the past, making it easy to reset.

The computer booted up quickly, the hacking program copying vital data to the flash drive.

He turned his attention to the manila envelope on the table, gently easing it open, alert to anything that might not be easily replaced and/or reset.

His stomach dropped as he saw the black and white photograph clipped to the generic printout of a web search about Everett’s Ridge.

Slowly he pushed the paper back down and replaced the envelope as he’d found it.

The computer beeped, signaling the data theft was over.

He pocketed the USB flash drive and headed for the door, taking the time to carefully check and reset the tiny markers on his way out. Every extra second he spent in the room grated on his nerves, but he couldn’t afford to let the Sons know someone was onto them.

The entire town’s safety rested on it.

It was only when he got into the nearby stairwell that he sent a two-word text to Kara.

GET. OUT.

He ran down the stairs, imagining her disengaging from McKay with a gentle denial, excusing herself for some silly errand. Once they got back to the apartment he’d show her the stolen data and…

The pressure on Kara’s arm increased as McKay led her away from the front desk, Jamie busy in the office and unaware of the drama happening in the lobby.

“We’re going out the back. I saw an exit sign over there,” McKay rasped in her ear as he pushed her along. “Play along, and I won’t kill your buddy at the front desk.” He paused. “But I can’t say the same for your boyfriend.”

“Who?” She tried to slow him down a fraction, dragging her feet.

“Don’t,” he warned. His right hand slipped inside his coat. “I can kill you right here and now, or you can make an argument for why you should live a few more hours.” He grinned. “I’m looking forward to the negotiations.”

Kara paused, weighing her options. Starting a fight here wouldn’t do anything other than get Jamie hurt.

“You’re not going to regret missing that coffee,” she said by way of keeping the communication going. “The machine’s older than Jamie is.”

His right hand shifted again, and she saw the slender knife he was holding. “Tell me why you followed me here from the diner.”

“It’s a small town,” she deadpanned. “Got to be somewhere.”

Pain arced through her elbow joint as he jabbed his thumb into a pressure point. “Hysterical. You’ve served your purpose—you brought us here. But don’t think that’s going to save you when this is all over.”

“What?” She stumbled as he pushed them through the exit door and into the back alley. “What did you say?”

He laughed as he pressed her up against the hotel wall, the cold of the bricks seeping through her leather jacket to chill her body. His left forearm pressed against her throat. “I’m going to ask you only once—where is Liam Wolfson? Was that him in the café?” He paused. “Did he send you after me? A little thing like you?” He chuckled. “You’re way out of your league. But if you beg me, I’ll make it fast.”

Kara glared at him. “Go to hell.”

“You first.” His grip on the blade tightened, his knuckles white.

Kara’s cell phone hummed.

McKay hesitated for a fraction of a second before bringing the knife out and up, swinging toward her body.

The nervous tremors inside her belly disappeared, replaced with a steady, calm resolution.

She twisted away and slumped down, bending her knees as she brought her right fist up hard into McKay’s groin, adding in an extra twist for threatening her. Her left hand swung down and to the left, slapping his hand to the side.

The blade still sliced through her open jacket—but it wasn’t the fatal wound he’d hoped for.

Instead he found himself cupping his aching balls with one hand, facing a very annoyed woman who had slid by him into the open space, away from the wall.

“Bitch,” he snarled. “I’ll slice you right open for that.” A Scottish accent crept into his voice, betraying his origins.

“You going to talk or you going to fight?” Kara asked. She pressed her left hand to her side, pushing through the pain. “Thought you Sons of Cain were tough guys.”

He lunged at her with the knife, angry jabs she easily avoided.

The throbbing in her side increased with each second as she dodged the blade, the blood oozing through her fingers.

No time to waste.

Kara stepped in as he finished another swing, trapping the man’s right hand against her injury as she brought her left arm down. Her right elbow shot up into McKay’s face, and she heard the satisfying crack, signaling a broken nose.

Another punch into his face and he went down, the blade clattering to one side on the cement.

She grabbed him with her good hand and hoisted him up, preparing to slam him against the closed door.

“Tell me what you know,” she demanded.

His head lolled to one side, his eyes rolling back. Kara cursed silently.

The exit door suddenly swung open, Liam coming face-to-face with the semi-conscious mercenary.

At any other time, in any other place, she would have laughed at the expression on Liam’s face.

But the burning spread through her body, and she released McKay to drop to her knees, gasping for air.

The ground fell away, tearing her out of this world and throwing her into another.

The memories returned with a rush, swamping her senses.

This wasn’t a hallucination, fed by children’s books. This was real, she was real… She was a Valkyrie.

She soared over the Great Halls, spear at the ready. In a flash of multicolored light, she was at the desert battlefield—the dry air pulling at her lungs. From her position in the sky she could see her target—the man kneeling on the ground, both hands to his bloody torso, death only minutes away. His automatic rifle lay beside him, pointed at the people gathered against the wall.

They were all dead, slumped against the pocked concrete.

It was an all too familiar scenario.

She hovered over the scene, putting the pieces together. The human shields had failed to protect him against the military units that swarmed over the area, not caring who stood in their way. The gunman ended up killing his hostages as the soldiers fired on him in a horrible no-win situation.

The end of her spear thumped into the ground as she landed and glared at the fighter.

Kara sneered under her helmet, knowing he couldn’t hear a word she said. She pointed at the nearby bodies. “You thought they would protect you. When they didn’t, you took their lives with your last breath.”

He wheezed as he stared past her, through her, the traces of a prayer on his lips.

“No mercy for a monster like you.” She touched his forehead with the tip of the razor–sharp spear, feeling the surge of energy shoot down and out of the magical weapon.

The body tensed for a second before he fell face–first onto the ground, raising a puff of dust with the impact.

The ghostly visage rose, uninjured and with a wide smile on his face. He didn’t see her, his eyes on the sky above them.

“You believe you’re going to Valhalla. You’re wrong.” Kara etched the symbol in the air with her spear, tensing as the colors spiraled down around them, the shifting between planes happening in a flash.

They came out over a desert wasteland, one she knew all too well—she’d delivered many souls here as part of her penance.

The fighter materialized about six feet above the ground, his eyes wide as he realized where he was—or where he wasn’t, based on his shocked expression. He screamed, a panicked bellow as he fell, the dark scarred ground smelling of ashes and burned flesh. He hit the ground with a loud thud, his ethereal form gone.

“What?” The terrorist stood up and spun around, taking in the blighted skyline. “Where are we?” He stared at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m the one who brought you to Helheim. Payment for your sins.” She hovered just out of reach. “Where did you think you were going?”

“Heaven.” He thumped his chest, the bullet wounds still oozing blood. “I did my duty, fighting the heathens who invaded my land and cleansing the unbelievers. I earned my eternal reward.”

“Did you now?” The snake slithered toward him as she watched, leaving no trail in the sand. “And what reward did you think that would be?”

The strike was hard and fast into the man’s ankle, through the leather. He shrieked as he spun around in a vain attempt to dislodge the reptile, finally latching onto the foot-long creature with both hands and pulling it free.

Kara laughed as he struggled with the snake, earning more bites on his hands and face before he managed to throw it away.

“What evil lives here?” he rasped. His voice rose, on the edge of panic. “What?”

“Whatever you fear the most.” The earth came alive around the killer, dozens of snakes emerging from the sand to encircle him as she chortled. “For your sins, you will stay here, until Ragnarök.”

She threw back her head and roared as he ran back and forth, trying to find a way out of the deadly circle. “Perhaps you can spend some of your time repenting of your sins.” A flap of her wings, and she rose into the sky, brandishing her lance.

“What?” the man repeated as the snakes moved in, hissing and coiling in readiness to strike. “Wait! Wait! You have to save me.” He beat his chest. “I can change. I can be a better man.”

“You had the chance on Midgard to choose your path. Now accept your fate.” Kara let out one last laugh as the screams started. The lance tip danced in the air, tracing the symbol for home.

Valhalla.

“Valhalla,” she repeated with a painful gasp as she opened her eyes. A blurry Liam came into focus, his concerned stare startling her. An unconscious McKay lay nearby.

“What the…” He pressed his hands against her bloody shirt. “Son of a bitch!”

“Knife.” She smiled. “It’s not deep, don’t worry.”

“We’ll go to the clinic. Then we’re getting out of town. Here.” He moved her hands to the wound. “Press as hard as you can.”

He rose and strode to the nearby dumpster, throwing open the metal lid. “I’m the one they’re after. If they can’t find me, they’ll leave. No point in staying if their target’s on the run, no money in making a spectacle and drawing attention to themselves.”

“So we run? After this?” She watched him pull out a pair of handcuffs from his backpack. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He pulled McKay’s hands behind his back and cuffed them before pulling a rag from a pocket and stuffing it into the semiconscious merc’s mouth. “This is only a temporary solution—his friends will arrive at some point in the next few hours, and if they don’t find him, Tony will when he brings out the trash later on this afternoon. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Liam picked the man up and dropped him into the metal bin, “And don’t even think of suggesting I kill him. I’m not doing that anymore unless we’re in dire circumstances.”

“I understand that.” She forced herself to her feet as Liam slammed the lid on McKay’s face. “And I wasn’t going to. Don’t want you backtracking on your rehabilitation now, after all this time.” Kara inspected her side, pulling the shirt up. “Damn it. I don’t want a scar.”

“I’m more worried about you bleeding out.” He pulled a gauze pad out of the backpack and tore the sealed envelope open.

“Always prepared? Were you a Boy Scout?” Kara took the bandage and pressed it to her side, throwing her head back and sucking in her breath through clenched teeth as a new wave of pain surged through her. “Damn it.”

“The clinic’s not too far—can you walk?”

She snorted before moving past him, clutching her side. “I’m not made of glass.” She gritted her teeth together. “But this hurts like hell.”

The snow whipped around them, the flakes now coming down in greater numbers. He looked up, cursing the thick gray clouds.

She leaned heavily into Liam’s side, stumbling once as they moved out of the alley. He put his hand around her waist, keeping her close. It was still early morning, and the streets were empty—the only luck they’d had so far.

She bit her cheek, holding back a groan as they moved out onto the sidewalk. “Son of a bitch was about to disembowel me.”

“What happened?” Liam growled.

“He recognized me right from the start. Worried I’d been sent to follow him. I’m guessing that moved me out of the ‘don’t touch’ zone into the ‘kill and hide the body’ category.” She paused. “Asked me where you were. Didn’t make you at the diner when we were there together.”

“A little good luck for us. I verified I’m the target.” Liam took hold of the clinic door and yanked it open. “That’s in our favor—at least we don’t have to worry about trying to deal with someone else as their primary. We might be able to keep this from Marie, from everyone in town if we work it right.”

“Let me give you the rest of the bad news,” Kara interrupted. “McKay said I brought them here.”

“What?” Liam started to ask but fell silent as they approached the counter.

Jen, the receptionist, dropped her newspaper and stared at them. Her eyes went wide as she saw the bloody wound, the torn shirt and the soaked bandage.

“Get Annie,” Liam ordered. “I’m taking her into Room One.”

Before the older woman could react, Liam had reached over and pushed the access button under the counter, coming back to grab the security door as it unlocked.

The woman scurried down the hall toward the office as Liam helped Kara into the first examination room.

“Put the fear of God into her.” Kara chuckled, wincing as she stretched out on the examination table. “Bet she’s never seen you this worried.”

“Because she hasn’t.” He turned toward the nearby sink, flipping the faucet on and sticking his bloody hands under the water.

The door opened to admit Annie, the Ridge’s resident doctor. An older woman with silver hair, she scowled as she saw Kara. They’d met a handful of times since Kara’s arrival, usually as Liam helped unload supplies.

“What fool thing did he get you into?” She worked efficiently and quickly, pulling a tray out of a nearby drawer before snapping on latex gloves.

“I fell on a piece of metal,” Kara offered, making up the excuse on the fly. “I tripped in the alley, too close to the garbage…” She gave a wan smile.

Annie grunted as she cut away the shirt and inspected the wound. “It happens to all of us.” She clucked her tongue. “Lucky for you, it’s not too deep. Looks worse than it is—you’re a bit of a bleeder. A handful of stitches, a tetanus shot, and you’ll be on your way.” She looked at Liam and gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’ll be fine.”

He grunted as he washed his hands.

The doctor went about the suturing with a calm, rolling patter, discussing the incoming weather, the diner’s daily special, and the lack of any new romance novels at the library.

“You staying here for the storm?” Liam asked. “Looks like the big one’s coming in.”

“As usual.” Annie rolled her eyes skyward. “Already set up the couch upstairs in my apartment for Jen to stay over—keep the clinic open twenty-four seven until things are all cleaned up.”

“Why?” Kara said.

“Because people are stupid.” She laughed. “They’ll throw their backs out trying to shovel too much snow, they’ll cut themselves on broken glass or burn themselves trying to cook on an open fire or some such silliness—the weather tends to bring out the stupid in people. We’ll be here for those who can make it through the door and on the phone for those who can’t.”

“That’s nice,” Kara said. Her mind was spinning, moving back to the vision she’d had in the alley.

Her mind wanted to ignore it, put it down to the traumatic injury. A hallucination brought on by the impromptu fight, mixed in with the revelation that she’d been the one who had triggered this crisis.

Her heart knew better, putting names to the woman she’d fought in the earlier vision and filling in the gaps.

But one name rang louder than any other in her mind, drumming out all else as Annie’s steady hands stitched her back together.

Valkyrie.

The previous dreams, the vision, they were true—all of them. The fight with Brenna, her taking evil souls to Helheim to suffer until Ragnarök. She didn’t remember being cast down to Midgard—but that didn’t matter.

“Accept your fate,” she whispered to herself, the words burning her tongue.

The harsh sentence repeated itself in her mind.

No.

She was not going to let Liam die and be dragged off to Helheim by her sisters. He was trying to change his fate—and she was going to help him, no matter what.

Kara sucked in her breath through clenched teeth.

“Hold on. Nearly done,” the doctor said, thinking she was reacting to the treatment. “There.” Annie sat up and snapped off the gloves. “I’ll be back in a minute with the injection. A prescription for antibiotics and painkillers and you can go back home. I’m prescribing bedrest for at least two days, if not three. Be right back.” She dropped the gloves in the waste bin and walked out.

Kara waited until Annie was out of range before speaking. “You’ve got to find out how I’m involved in this.”

“That we can manage. I poured all the data they had on me into a stick. They also had paperwork.” Liam kept his voice down. “I found a photograph confirming I’m the target.”

“I got that. McKay flashed one at Jamie. You had short hair and no beard, made it hard for him to recognize you.” She gave a soft laugh. “Jamie thought you might be Peterson.”

“Hell, I’m not that old.” He rubbed his beard. “Thought it added a few years, but not that much.”

“McKay was going to go to the library, on Jamie’s suggestion, to find out if Geraldine recognized you.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t put her in that sort of danger. I sent Jamie off to get coffee, tried to keep McKay in the lobby. He hustled me into the alley for an interrogation. Bastard.”

Liam winced as Kara levered herself up and prepared to stand. “Take it easy,” he warned. “Those stitches are brand-new. They won’t stand a lot of bouncing around.”

“I can take it easy when we get back to your apartment and figure this out.” She settled her feet on the floor with a curse. “I’m still debating bringing in Marie on this. She deserves to know there’s trained killers in her town, especially if we’re leaving.”

“No.” He moved in next to her, fighting the urge to hug her. “If we tell her about the Sons, we have to tell her about me.”

The door swung open before Kara could mount a counterargument, and she fell silent.