Guardians instinct, p.25
Guardian's Instinct,
p.25
His compassion gave me permission to break down. But those Angel-emotions were mine. Private. Right now, I needed to hold myself in check long enough to get through my mission of handing off the letter. I shifted my feet back and forth over the rug as I glared at my purse.
“Might even explain the expression on your face,” Dave said, narrowing his eyes. He slouched against the arm of the overstuffed couch.
Stalling wasn’t going to make this any easier. I reached a hesitant hand into my bag, pulled out a plastic Zip-loc holding the envelope, and held it up for Dave. “The expression is because of this,” I said.
Dave took the bag. After a brief glance, he hefted himself to his feet. Over at his desk, he pulled on a pair of Nitrile gloves, then carefully removed the letter.
Dearest India Alexis,
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune!
As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love, am I:
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a’ your bones are white and dry:
Till a’ your veins gang dry, my dear,
And your skin melt with the sun;
I will luve thee until your heart is still my dear
When the sands of your life shall no more run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve, so I can watch you die.
Dave read the words aloud then stared at me hard; his brows pulled in tight enough that the skin on his forehead accordioned. “What the—”
“Someone shoved the poem under the door to my room, and it’s scaring the bejeezus out of me.” I gripped the pillow tighter.
Dave peered over the top of his reading glasses. “Last night? This morning?”
“Wednesday morning.” I braced when I said it, knowing it would tick Dave off that I didn’t bring this to him immediately. Ever since my dad died, his buddies had stepped in and tried to take over the fathering job, even though I’d be turning twenty in a few days.
True to my expectations, Dave was red-faced and bellowing. “Wednesday? You waited two whole days to tell me you’ve gotten a friggin death threat?”
Yup, this was exactly the response Dad would have given me.
Dave jumped up, pacing across the room. Obviously, he didn’t think this was someone’s idea of a joke. Fear tightened my chest at his confirmation. I had hoped he’d say, “No worries—someone is having fun pranking you,” and then I could go on about my life without the major case of heebie-jeebies that tingled my skin and made me want to run and hide.
“It was our wedding day.” I worked to modulate my voice to sound soft and reasonable. “I only had a few short hours before Angel had to take off. So yeah, I decided to focus on us instead of this.” I motioned toward the paper in his hand.
Dave took in a deep breath, making his nostrils flare. “Okay.” I could almost see his brain shifting gears. “When you first picked up the letter, did you get any vibes?”
“You mean, ESP-wise?”
He nodded stiffly, his eyes hard on me.
Vibes. That wasn’t the word I would have chosen to explain my sensations. “I didn’t hear anything. It was more like an oily substance oozing over me.” I tucked my nose into the soft cloth of the pillow and breathed in the scent of cinnamon fabric freshener. “I vomited.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “It felt like evil and craziness, and I can still smell that stench.” A shiver raced down my spine.
Dave’s lips sealed tightly; he was probably trying to hold back a litany of expletives. Finally, he asked, “That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“Did any of your neighbors notice anyone unusual lurking around? Did you check with management and run through the security tapes?”
“Dave, didn’t you hear? My apartment building burned to the ground three weeks ago. I assumed you knew. It was on the news.”
Dave’s eyebrows shot straight up.
“I’ve been living in a motel the Red Cross rented out for all the families displaced by the fire. But to answer your question, no, nobody saw anything, and there were no cameras trained on my motel corridor.” I curled my lips in to keep them from trembling. I was used to holding my emotions in check. I trained myself to present a sweet exterior, a costume of sorts, but right now, I was filled to overflowing, and my mask kept slipping out of place.
“Shit.” Dave ran a hand over his face. “I had no idea. I’m letting your parents down. Apartment burned, married, husband gone, and now a death threat.” His eyes narrowed on me. “Do you think that about covers all of your surprises for me today?”
I paused for a beat. “Yeah, Dave, I think that’s it for today.” Okay, even if he was like family, the way Dave was talking pissed me off. I was frightened. I wanted a hug and his reassurance. What I was getting was… Dave’s brand of love. He wouldn’t be this red-faced and agitated if he wasn’t worried about me. Tears prickled behind my eyelids, blurring my vision.
“Hey, now. Stop. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Did you already let Spyder McGraw know what’s going on?”
I wiped my nose with the back of my wrist. “Spyder’s still off-grid. I have no idea when he’ll get home.”
“Were you assigned a different partner while he’s gone?”
“No, sir. I only ever worked for Spyder—he sort of wanted to keep me a secret.” I still couldn’t believe Mom had sat Dave down and told him all about my apprenticeship with Spyder McGraw. Under Spyder’s tutelage, I was following my dream of becoming an Intelligence Officer, learning to out-think and out-maneuver the bad guys trying to hurt American interests. And like anyone heading toward a life in the intelligence community, my skills needed to go under the radar. Now that my mom had died, only four people—Spyder, the Millers, and Dave—knew that side of my life. I would prefer Dave didn’t know.
“Still, did you consider bringing this to Spyder’s commander? Iniquus would probably give him a heads up. Get a message to him.”
“Iniquus is my last resort. Sure, Spyder told me to talk to them if I ever found myself in trouble.” I sucked in a deep breath of air. “Bottom line? He never wanted them to know I worked for him, well, for them. Safety in anonymity and all that.” My fingers kneaded the stuffing in the pillow. “Besides, I guess I was hoping this would all just go away.”
Dave’s eyes were hard on me. “You know better. Once some psycho’s caught you on his radar, you’re stuck there until someone wins.”
“Okay, so I make sure it’s me who wins.”
“Exactly right.” He considered me for a minute before he asked, “You’ve kept up with your martial arts training?”
“I have a sparring partner who’s pretty good. We rent time at a Do Jang twice a week.”
Dave lowered his head to read over the poem again. He put the letter and envelope back in the Zip-loc and placed it on his mantle. Pulling off his gloves with a snap, he looked down at them. “I hate these things. They give me a rash. Look, I’m going to take this down to the station and open a file. If you get anything else, I want you to bring it to me right away. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is the only poem, letter, communication of any kind you’ve gotten?”
I nodded. For the first time since I walked into Dave’s house, I became aware of sounds other than our conversation and the thrumming blood behind my eardrums. A football game played on TV. I glanced over as the announcer yelled some gibberish about a first down, then moved my gaze back to Dave. “You must have taken graveyard shift last night,” I said.
He picked up a remote, zapped off the TV, and sent me a raised eyebrow.
“It doesn’t take a psychic. You look like an unmade bed.”
Dave ran a hand over his dark hair, thick on the sides, sparse on top. He hadn’t used a comb today or bothered to shave. He was hanging-out-at-home comfy in jeans and beat-to-hell tennis shoes. It looked like the only thing I was interrupting was the game re-run.
“Double homicide. Turned into a long night up to my ankles in sewage.”
“Yum.” I tried on a smile, but it was plastic and contrived.
Dave narrowed his eyes. “We need to move you. Pronto. It’s priority one. You need to be someplace secure where I can keep better tabs on you.”
“I’ve been looking since the fire, but I haven’t found anything.”
“Would you consider buying?” he asked.
“Yes, actually—I’m looking for a low-cost fixer-upper I can work on to help me get through this year without Angel.” I followed Dave into the hallway. “Diversion, and all that.”
“How about here, in my neighborhood? I could keep a better eye on you—and you won’t be showing up at my door with a suitcase full of surprises.” He grabbed his coat from the
closet and shrugged it on. “I’m taking you over to meet my neighbor. She has the other half of her duplex on the market.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “You shouldn’t be running around without a jacket.” He handed me an oversized wool parka that smelled like raking leaves. He kicked a Tonka truck out of the way, and we moved out the front door.
On the front porch, I slid into the shadows and took in the length of the road—no cars, no barking dogs, everything quiet.
Dave glanced back. “Coast is clear.”
I tucked the coat hood up over my ponytail. Screened by Dave’s broad back, I started across the street. Down the road, a car motor revved. I reached under my shirt and pulled out my gun.
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Acknowledgments
My great appreciation ~
To my publicist Margaret Daly
To my cover artist, Melody Simmons
To my editor Rossana Tarantini
To my readers -Dar K and Jennie Lopez who came up with the title for this novel
To my Beta Force, who are always honest and kind at the same time, especially M. Carlon,
To my Street Force, who support me and my writing with such enthusiasm and kindness.
To the real-world K9 professionals who serve and protect us.
Virginia K9 search and rescue teams for their work in our community, their dedication, and professionalism.
To all the wonderful professionals whom I called on to get the details right as I conducted my research, especially —
Meagan Longley – for taking me on a tour of her helicopter and spending time filling me in on the background information about life and work as a flight nurse, big congratulations to Meagan on her board certification!
My Estonian bog naturalist expert, Marilin Pehka, who introduced me to a unique and glorious world. She embodies the adventure.
My voice teacher extraordinaire – Yvette Keong, whose kindness and grace are gifts I wanted my character, Mary, to experience.
My talented pole teacher, Morgan Obenchain, whose physical strength and fearlessness hanging upside down, ten feet off the ground, helped me imagine the way for Mary to save the family from the fire.
To my Australian consultant Katrina Player and the generosity of her time and talent, making sure that Halo rang true.
Please note: This is a work of fiction, and while I always try my best to get all the details correct, there are times when it serves the story to go slightly to the left or right of perfection. Please understand that any mistakes or discrepancies are my authorial decision-making alone and sit squarely on my shoulders.
Thank you to my family.
I send my love to my husband, T. I love all of our adventures together—and for this book, the Estonian bog with the intoxicating scent of Labrador tea and the gorgeous city of Helsinki—they, and you, feed my creativity and enjoyment of life.
And, of course, thank YOU for reading my stories. I’m smiling joyfully as I type this. I so appreciate you!
About the Author
Fiona Quinn is a six-time USA Today bestselling author, a Kindle Scout winner, Amazon Top 40, and an Amazon All-Star.
Quinn writes suspense in her Iniquus World of books, including Lynx, Strike Force, Uncommon Enemies, Kate Hamilton Mysteries, FBI Joint Task Force, Cerberus Tactical K9 Series Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, the Delta Force Echo series, and now, an Iniquus cookbook!
She writes urban fantasy as Fiona Angelica Quinn for her Elemental Witches Series.
And, just for fun, she writes the Badge Bunny Booze Mystery Collection with her dear friend, Tina Glasneck, as Quinn Glasneck.
Quinn is rooted in the Old Dominion, where she lives with her husband. There, she pops chocolates, devours books, and taps continuously on her laptop.
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Copyright
Guardian’s Instinct is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
©2023 Fiona Quinn
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by Melody Simmons from eBookindlecovers
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Quinn, Fiona, Guardian's Instinct
