Dark Summer

CHAPTER 7

"WALT FRANKS, DEVON BRADY," Marrok introduced them briefly as he opened the door of the helicopter for Devon. "Are we ready to get under way, Walt?"

The pilot nodded. "I told you I'd be ready. I've already arranged for the rental of the private jet for us to change to in San Francisco." He smiled at Devon. "It's good to see you with your eyes open."

"You brought me here?" Her brows rose. "That makes you an accomplice, you know."

"I've been an accomplice to worse things than keeping a nice lady like you alive." He started the engines. "Buckle up. We're on our way."

Walt Franks wasn't what she expected. He was a man in his fifties or early sixties, with grizzled gray-black hair and squinty hazel eyes. His drawl sounded Southwestern, maybe Texan.

"You're not going to give Walt a guilt trip," Marrok said. "He told me a long time ago when he came to work for me that he was leaving both responsibility and guilt on my shoulders."

"No one can do that. Everyone has to shoulder their own share."

"Why?" Walt said. "Marrok causes the ruckus, I just come in and pull him out." He grinned at Marrok. "Just like I did in the jungles in Colombia when he was in the SEALs. He owes me big-time."

"You were in the ser vice together?"

Walt nodded. "That's where we met. Little did I know it was going to lead to me wiping his nose for all these years."

"Walt."

Walt chuckled. "Do you hear that tone, Devon? That's his big chief shut-up-or-I'm-going-to-scalp-you voice."

"That's remarkably po liti cally incorrect," Marrok said dryly. "And I was never anything as grand as a chief. The closest I ever got was being an apprentice to the shaman in the tribe. I didn't even do that well. I conducted most of my holy rites in the nearest bar." He shrugged. "What the hell. I was only a kid, and I could see that all the government officials at the reservation thought we were all stupid pieces of crap. Why not get drunk and for a moment feel like a man who could be respected?"

She couldn't imagine Marrok as that wild, reckless boy. He was so totally in control and contained now.

He glanced at her and smiled faintly. "You don't see it? It took a long time to move away from that wild kid. I made a lot of mistakes. I still make them. I spiral out of control every now and then. I just don't use liquor as a crutch."

"Violence instead of booze?"

His smile faded. "Violence, despair, regret. Do you ever lose control, Devon?"

"I'm a vet. I can't afford to lose control. I could cause hurt."

His gaze was suddenly narrowed on her face. "You were married."

"Yes." There was no doubt she had lost control with Les to her eternal regret. "I was seventeen, and I thought sex was love. He didn't make the same mistake. He knew exactly what he was after." Good God, what were they talking about? The intimate confidence had just tumbled out, prompted by Marrok's words. She tried to shift the subject away from herself. "But control is usually-"

"You don't sound too warm toward Enright," Marrok interrupted. "I thought you were reconciling."

She stared at him, shocked. "What? Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"The same place the rest of America got it. Enright told CNN that you'd settled your differences and were going to go away together once he rescued you from the bad guys." He tilted his head. "No?"

"No," she said flatly.

"I'm very relieved," Marrok said. "Since I'm the 'bad' guy in the equation. I wouldn't want to interfere with true love. Now why would he make a statement like that?"

She had an idea, and it was making her uneasy. "How should I know?" She tried to veer away from the subject. "Are you married?"

"No, I skipped that." He shrugged. "But I've done most things at least once."

That didn't surprise her. There was a world of experience mirrored in the lines of his face. What experiences, she wondered suddenly? There was a sensual curve to the setting of his lips, and his eyes were hard, glittering, and knowing…

Walt chuckled. "Yep, until you got bored. Though how you could get bored with that madam at that house in Bangkok, I can't fathom. You said you'd learned all she could teach you, but if it was me, I'd have stayed around and practiced."

"Walt, you have an extremely big mouth."

"And a memory to match." His eyes were twinkling as he lifted off. "That's probably why you keep me around. You're so closed up that you need someone who knows where you came from. Otherwise, you might forget."

"No, I wouldn't." Marrok looked out the window at the ground dropping away. "You've got my number. Everyone needs a friend to share experiences. Otherwise, you get hollow inside. I know about hollow."

"I know you do," Walt said. "And when I'm not around, you always have Ned."

Marrok nodded. "Who doesn't talk when he should be concentrating on flying."

Walt laughed. "I don't think Ned can fly a plane yet. Though it wouldn't surprise me. He's getting smarter and smarter." He reached back and patted Ned's head. "How about it, buddy, want a lesson?"

Ned lifted his head and gave a ruff.

"Don't promise what you can't deliver," Marrok said. "Ned will hold it against you."

The chemistry between the two men was interesting to watch, Devon thought. Walt Franks must have been at least twenty years older than Marrok, but his demeanor and personality seemed much younger. It was clear they were friends of long standing, and Franks was definitely not intimidated by Marrok.

"Have you figured us out yet?" Marrok was gazing at her again.

"I'm not wasting my time." She scratched the Lab behind his ear. "Ned is the only one who's worth the effort."

"Ouch." Walt made a face. "That stung. But I suppose I can't blame you since kidnapping was involved."

"How generous." She turned to Marrok. "How are we going to do this? The police will have a guard at the crime scene? Right?" She suppressed a shudder at the term. The place where she had spent so many satisfying hours had changed, became a place of tragedy and horror.

"Probably. And as I said Danner may have his man there on the watch, too."

"How do we do it?" she repeated.

"We reconnoiter. I take out the police guard and we go in and get what we want." He held up his hand to stop the protest he knew was coming. "No, I promise I won't kill him."

"And Danner's man?"

"We hope he comes in after us and not wait for us outside. Privacy is always good." He looked her directly in the eye. "And I make no promises about his disposition, Devon. If you want to keep your hands clean, then don't come with me. Stay in the car with Walt and Ned."

Marrok might be wrong. Danner's man might not even be waiting for them. And, if he was, would she care if the murderers of Hugh and Terry were killed? The fierce surge of rage at the thought shocked her but brought an answer in itself. "I told you, I'm going with you."

A TALL, HEAVYSET MAN IN A police uniform was standing in front of the door of the clinic.

Walt cruised by and parked down the street in the parking lot of a con ve nience store across from the shopping center. "Over to you, Marrok," he said as he started to get out of the car. He whistled for the Lab. "Come on, Ned. Let's stretch our legs."

"No, what are you thinking?" Marrok said. "Stay in the car. If any of Danner's men are here I don't want them to see Ned. And I want you at the parking area behind the clinic in fifteen minutes."

"Right." Walt hesitated. "I could take out the policeman for you. No trouble."

"Just take care of my dog." Marrok took Devon's elbow. "Come on. Let's do it." He spoke rapidly, concisely, as he propelled her across the street to the shopping center and down the side of the hill. "Move fast toward the back entrance while the cop is still out front. He'll probably be doing regular rounds soon. You go inside the clinic." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small flashlight. "Take this. Don't turn on the lights, but don't use the flashlight until you need it. I'll make enough noise to bring the cop around back once we're ready for him. I get rid of him and join you inside." They had reached the back of the building, and he lowered his voice. "Find that computer as quick as you can. I hope to hell they didn't take it."

"The door is padlocked," she whispered. "How can we-"

"Quiet." He bent over the lock. A moment later he released the padlock and opened the door. "Go!"

She slipped inside and closed the door.

A second later she heard the sound of the lid of the garbage can by the back door being hurled against the side of the building.

Make enough noise to bring the police officer, he had said. That certainly was enough noise. He'd promised not to kill him. Could she trust him? She was tempted to open the door and look out.

No, it was too late. She had to trust his word. Find the computer and get out of here.

The computer they used for IDs was in the examining room where she'd last seen Hugh. A chill went through her as she remembered how he'd looked up from his paperwork and smiled at her right before she'd left.

Don't think about it. Get the computer.

She walked quickly down the hall. She didn't need to turn on a light. She knew every inch of the clinic. She opened the door. The laptop computer was usually on the shelf across from the examining table. Now was the time to flick on the light. There were no windows in the room so it shouldn't-

Dear God!

She shrank back against the wall, staring at the floor.

"Devon."

It was Marrok, standing in the doorway.

"I wasn't expecting-" Lord, she felt sick. The outline in yellow chalk on the floor had to be where Hugh's body had been found. And traces of something dark red… "I suppose I should have known. I've seen enough TV police shows. It surprised-"

"Shh." He was suddenly holding her in his arms. "I know. Take a deep breath. You'll be fine in a minute."

"I was just remembering that last thing I said to him. And then I saw-" She pushed him away. "I'm okay." She wasn't okay, but she couldn't lean on him. She had to stand on her own. "The laptop is on the shelf across the room." She averted her eyes from the yellow outline as she moved toward the shelf. "Hugh was always very neat about putting away-It's not here!"

"Shit. The RFD remote?"

"There were four of them. They're all gone."

"Make sure. Look around. Could they be anywhere else?"

She shook her head. "We kept them here."

"Keep looking. I'm going to go through the other rooms."

She looked on all the other shelves, then went to the medical chest across the room. It was sealed with yellow tape. That's right, they'd suspected drug theft.

She broke the tape and opened the door. Not many bottles or capsules left. No computer.

"Anything?" Marrok was back.

"No."

"I drew a blank, too. Let's get the hell out of here."

She followed him out of the room.

"Wait. I'll go ahead."

Because someone might be waiting outside? At the moment she was more afraid of staying here in the dark knowing that pitiful, horrible chalked outline was in the next room. Was there another outline on the floor in the reception room? Of course there was. And more blood…

He opened the door a crack and looked outside. "There's Walt. Let me go ahead. Run!"

"THEY'VE LEFT THE CLINIC." CASWELL glanced up from the cell phone to look at Danner. "Sherwood wants to know what to do."

"What does he think he should do? Kill the bastards." Danner gazed down with angry frustration at the computer that had been delivered to him from Brady's clinic. "I've got the info from the microchip."

"Little good it's doing us. We can't even decode it."

"I'll get there. It may take time, but I'll find a way to do it. I just didn't realize that this damned code would be so hard to break, or I would have had a roomful of cryptologists waiting to work on it."

"You've always underestimated Marrok. You still think of him as that Indian kid you could bamboozle and manipulate. He's not that kid any longer."

"I never tried to manipulate him," Danner said. "I only did what I had to do. I was the only one who was capable enough to manage the project. That old man was pissing away everything I'd dreamed about since I was a boy. If Marrok hadn't exploded and taken away what was mine, I'd have given him the opportunity of a lifetime. He betrayed me." Danner's eyes were glittering with emotion. "I looked upon him as a son."

Caswell opened his lips to make a skeptical comment, then closed them. Danner probably believed what he was saying. A son? Danner might have felt a myriad of emotions toward that young Marrok, but Caswell would bet paternal feelings weren't among them. He'd always been amazed that Danner never felt hypocritical about any of his dealings. He believed that he could do no wrong, and anyone in conflict with him had to be misguided and, therefore, subject to punishment and destruction. "Marrok obviously didn't regard you in the same light."

"He betrayed me," Danner repeated. "He was a drunken piece of refuse, and I still made him my friend. I let him sit at my dinner table and taught him to be a human being instead of a savage."

"He must have had a little bit of potential of his own, or he wouldn't have been able to keep us from catching him all these years." He paused. "And you seemed to be very willing to eliminate your 'son' even before he broke away."

"Sometimes it's necessary to sacrifice for the higher goal. I would have tried to save him. He didn't understand that."

"It's difficult for a man to look upon himself as a sacrifice."

"That's why I had to be stronger and wiser. Like Abraham when he was told to kill his son."

Talk about a God complex. And Danner didn't even realize there was anything odd about the comparison.

"May I point out that Marrok may still be of use if we can't decode this?"

"Any code can be broken. And this one was concocted by a geeky kid."

"Geeky kids have found ways to break into secured sites at the Pentagon. And Marrok may have gone in and improved the code over the years."

"If we kill him, then we'll have plenty of time to work on it."

Caswell waited. Danner was a brilliant man, and most of the time he used that brilliance with a manipulative skill that was astonishing. It was only when the subject of Marrok came up that his emotions ruled him.

Danner was silent a moment. "I always intended to take Marrok alive if possible. I gave orders to that effect. The old man swore Marrok knew nothing, but I could never be sure. It would have been much more efficient to verify one way or the other."

And given Danner a chance at an elaborate and painful revenge on Marrok. Danner was a sadistic bastard, and his enjoyment of others' pain was always excused as necessary and right. "I realize that," Caswell said.

Danner made a decision. "Tell Sherwood he has the option to kill everyone but Marrok. Leave it up to him. But I want Marrok alive." He sadly shook his head. "I would have preferred to make it easy on him. We shared so many good memories. Like a son…"

DEVON DARTED AFTER MARROK for the SUV.

Walt had the door open, and Marrok pushed her into the car then followed her. "Get out of here."

"Right." The car lurched forward as Walt stomped on the accelerator. "Did we get what we came for?"

"No." Marrok was gazing at the rearview mirror. "Hurry."

"I'm going over the speed limit now." He glanced at Devon. "You're pale. Okay?"

No; she could still see that grotesque outline on the floor. She'd probably remember it for the rest of her life. And it had all been for nothing. They hadn't been able to get that damn computer. "It wasn't pleasant." She turned to Marrok. "I didn't see the policeman. Where is he?"

"Tucked neatly out of sight around the side of the building." His eyes never left the mirror. "He'll be out for another fifteen minutes or so. I gave him a chop to the carotid artery. And, yes, I'm sure that he'll wake up. Not that I expect you to believe me."

She did believe him. "Will that give us enough time to get to the plane before he raises an alarm?"

"No, but that won't be a problem. He couldn't identify-We're being followed, Walt. Lose him."

Devon's gaze flew to the rearview mirror. Two headlights were spearing the darkness. "How can you tell? Are you-"

"I'm sure."

"Then he won't be behind us long," Walt said. "Hold tight."

The warning was not in vain. In spite of the seat belt, Devon was tossed back and forth like a rag doll as Walt turned corners, went the wrong way up one-way streets.

"He's good," Walt murmured, glancing at the rearview mirror. "Fear not, friends. I will persevere."

"Wait." Marrok's gaze was on the overpass ahead. "Don't lose him. Lead him down the underpass to the access road."

"Why?"

"I need him." He unbuckled his seat belt. "Slow down as you take the down ramp. Then speed up and get Devon out of here. You should have no trouble."

"What about you?"

"I should have no trouble either." His hand was on the handle. "Swerve to the left so that it will close the door behind me."

"You're actually going to jump?" Devon asked. "Are you nuts?"

"Hopefully not. This shouldn't be too difficult." He was tensing, his gaze judging the speed and incline. "Like jumping off a log."

She couldn't believe it. His expression was intent, but there was also an element of excitement. He was enjoying himself. "Don't do this."

He shook his head. "I told you. I need him." He shoved the door open. "Now swerve!" He jumped, tumbling head over heels as he hit the ground.

The door was swinging shut as she saw Marrok roll behind the shrubs bordering the access road.

"Crazy," she whispered. "He probably broke some bones."

"I doubt it."

"What's he going to do?"

"Probably shoot out his tires." Walt's foot pressed the accelerator, and the car speeded up. "There's our tail entering the down ramp. The gray Volvo. Come on, Marrok…"

A shot. The gray Volvo suddenly swerved violently as the left-front tire blew. The driver was fighting the wheel, trying to keep on the ramp. Another shot. The back tire blew. He swerved again and ran up on the grass bordering the access road.

"Got him," Walt said. "Now we get out of here per instructions."

"No, we should go back and pick Marrok up."

"He doesn't want company."

"Suppose there's more than one-"

"He'll take care of it," Walt said quietly. "He doesn't want us, Devon. He particularly doesn't want you and Ned there. Now I'm going to get back on the freeway, drive up to the next exit, get off, and wait for him to phone."

"He's only one man. How can-" She stopped. Why was she protesting? It wasn't as if she wanted to be any more involved in this horror than she already was.

But murder had been done and was still too close to her. There was no doubt in her mind that the car that had followed them had been driven by someone who meant them harm. "Why couldn't Marrok have just let you get away from him?"

"I have no idea."

"Yes, you do."

"He probably wanted information." He drove into a ser vice station and parked on the side of the lot. "I'll get us a cup of coffee. It may be a while. How do you take it?"

"Black."

"Me, too. I can't see how anyone can ruin a good cup of coffee by putting junk in it." He got out of the car. "You keep her company, Ned."

Ned stuck his head between the seats and laid it on her arm.

"Wait. Why should it take a while?"

"Sometimes information isn't that easy to pry out of the kind of hard-asses that Danner hires." He strolled away into the ser vice station.

Torture?

She closed her eyes, feeling sick. Murder and torture and a nightmare of fear. Why had she insisted on coming tonight? For all she knew, Marrok was worse than the man who had been following them. Yes, she knew Danner was a monster. He had proved it by his actions. But she knew too little about Marrok. He had thrown her a few bits of information and she had let herself believe that he could be one of the good guys. What if there were no good guys in this equation? What did that make her?

"Here's your coffee."

She opened her eyes and took the cup Walt handed her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You look like you could use it." He got into the van. "Don't worry about him. He usually comes out on top."

"I'm not worried about him. I don't even know him. He's almost a stranger to me." But she was worried, she realized with panic. What kind of macabre intimacy had grown between them? It was like the bond that she had read about that was forged between kidnappers and their hostages. No, it wasn't like that. She had felt that sense of intimacy the night he'd brought Ned to her. Suspicion and intimacy mixed and twisted until they became one entity.

"Drink your coffee," Walt said gently. "It's going to be okay. See, Ned's not worried."

She took a sip of coffee. "How can you tell?"

"He'd be howling and fighting to get out of the van."

"He's done that before?"

"A couple times. And it turned out that Marrok was not in the best shape. Dogs have great instincts."

"Yes." He didn't have to tell her about instincts. Tess had almost been able to read her mind, and she had always known if Devon was ill or sad. She had once been caught in a mudslide, and Tess had found her against all odds. Tess had dragged her out of the muck, and they had lain together all night, sharing warmth until the rescue crew found them.

"So Marrok is probably just fine." Walt turned on the radio. "How about some music? It's supposed to soothe the savage breast. I always used to think that quote was supposed to be beast. It made more sense to me." He raised a brow. "Am I talking too much?"

"No." She was barely hearing him. Her nerves were keyed to the breaking point as she waited for Marrok to call. "You're taking this very calmly. I can't do that. All this violence… is Marrok always like this?"

Walt didn't answer for a moment. "He's a violent man. He's had a hard life, and he has problems with restraint. He's much better than when we first met years ago. I think he has focus now, and that helps."

"Right now he's focusing on a man who's probably trying to kill him."

"True. But it'll be a piece of cake for him," Walt said. "Trust me."

HE WAS BLEEDING like a stuck pig.

The bastard had nearly gotten his jugular, Marrok thought. He had only managed to deflect the knife at the last minute, and it had gone into his shoulder. He'd been good. Danner had upgraded the talent. He was better than Kingston had been on Santa Marina.

He tightened the garrote around the son of a bitch's neck and dragged him farther into the bushes beside the road. Don't strangle him. Don't kill him. Not yet.

All this would be for nothing if he let him die.

But he had to be quick. Someone might notice the Volvo on the side of the ramp.

Or this blood flowing from the wound might make him pass out.

He straddled him, his hand still twisting the garrote. "I'm going to loosen this for a minute, and you're going to talk to me." He was searching in his pockets as he spoke. He flipped open the wallet and glanced at the driver's license. "Sherwood."

"It's… a… mistake. I wasn't going to hurt you." Sherwood's voice was a pleading croak. "Just the others. They told me to make sure you weren't hurt."

"Then you won't mind our having a little conversation, will you?"

"I don't know anything." Sherwood said, panicked. "Do you think Danner would tell me anything?"

"No, but you have names, telephone numbers, addresses. No man is an island. I can put them together. I like puzzles."

"I'll make a deal."

Marrok shook his head. "I've found that loose ends always come back to bite me. But I'll make it quick if you give me what I want."

Sherwood's lips curled. "The hell you will."

"Oh yes, I'm very good at this kind of thing. Did Danner tell you I was Apache? I grew up on stories of how my great-great-grandfather taught the white men pain. I was pretty bitter. I enjoyed it then." He tightened the garrote again. "The years haven't made me any more civilized."

He waited until Sherwood was gasping, then released the pressure again. "First, phone numbers you've been given to contact anyone in Danner's organization."

"Screw you," he hissed. "You're bleeding all over me. All I have to do is wait until you pass out, then I'll gut you."

"I don't think you'll want to wait." Shit, he wished he had time to rig a ban dage to stop the bleeding. He had to be quick, or Sherwood would be right. "Do you want to bet in three minutes you'll be begging me to let you tell me all you know? There are so many ways…"

WALT'S PHONE RANG. "MARROK." He pressed the connect. "You took longer than I thought. Devon was beginning to-" He listened. "I'll be right there." He hung up.

"It's done." He started the car and backed out of the parking space. "But evidently not as smoothly as I hoped. He was a bit curt."

"Is Marrok still where we dropped him?"

Walt shook his head. "He said he'd probably be a half mile down the access road. He didn't want to be seen if someone spotted the wrecked car." Walt entered the down ramp. "You may have to do a little first aid. Marrok said the bastard was a knife man and managed to prick him."

"He's been stabbed?"

"Marrok had to get in close, so he couldn't use a gun after be blew out the tires. He said Sherwood was a street fighter and pulled a knife out of a shin holster."

"How bad is Marrok's wound?"

"We'll see. Couldn't be too bad if he can hike a half mile."

"We'll still have to get him to a doctor."

"That would be awkward. You'll have to talk to him." They had reached the exit ramp, and he started down it. "There's the Volvo. Keep an eye on the side of the road." He suddenly pulled over to the side. "Never mind. I see Marrok. He's coming out of that stand of brush."

She saw him, too. Even in the darkness she could see the stiffness in the way he was carry ing himself. His dark hair was tousled, and he was moving toward them slowly. She hadn't realized until this moment what a springy, lithe gait he usually had.

Walt muttered a curse, put on the brake, and jumped out of the van. "You look like death warmed over." He put his shoulder beneath Marrok's arm. "Some prick."

"It's not serious. I just didn't have time to stop the bleeding until I finished." He was leaning hard against Walt. "It could have been worse. He was aiming for my jugular." He looked at Devon, who had gotten out of the car. "I don't suppose you have any sutures on you?"

"It's not something I generally carry around with me except on a disaster mission." Her lips tightened. "Perhaps I should start. My life's been one straight disaster since you dropped into it." Damn, he looked pale. "For heaven's sake, get in the back of the van and let me take a look at it."

"There's a first-aid kit on the plane." Walt helped Marrok into the back. "We should be there in ten minutes." He turned and trotted back to the driver's seat.

"Good." Marrok closed his eyes. "Then I think I'll take a little nap…"

"No, you won't." Devon crawled in after him. "Not until I'm sure you're not going into shock. You're not going to die on me, dammit."

"I wouldn't dare." He opened his eyes and gazed up at her. "I didn't cut an artery. It's going to be okay."

"Nothing is okay." She pushed Ned away from him to loosen the makeshift ban dage. It was an ugly wound, but it was no longer bleeding, she realized with relief. She started to redo it. "But it would be worse if you died and left me in this mess by myself. I'm staggering around in the dark, and I need you to tell me how I can get myself out of it."

"I might have had an answer before tonight," he said wearily. "But everything is blowing up in my face." He suddenly shook his head. "God, I sound like a wimp. What the hell. I'll still get us out of this." Between clenched teeth he said, "Just get me sewn up, and I'll take care of the rest."

"I'll do what I can. You do know you should be seeing a doctor?"

"I like the way you stitch. Ned's wound was clean as a whistle when you finished. And look at him now, he's almost normal."

"You said he healed fast."

"So do I. We just need a little help from our friends."

"I'm not your friend."

"You could be." His eyes were burning, glittering with intensity. "And more…"

She couldn't look away. She felt breathless. "I think you have a fever."

"Probably. Maybe we both do."

Fever and a strange yet familiar languidness. Why the hell would she feel like this now? It was totally bizarre. "You're the one who's wounded." She steadied her hands to button his shirt. "And that means that Ned isn't as clever as Walt thinks he is. He swore that if you were in any danger Ned would put up a ruckus."

"But I wasn't in any danger. Not after I took away Sherwood's knife."

"You might have bled to death."

He shook his head. "It would have clotted eventually."

"So Ned's instincts still rule supreme," she said dryly.

He was silent a moment. "You haven't asked what I did to Sherwood."

"Walt didn't hesitate to tell me what you planned." She moistened her lips. "I don't have to ask if you followed through, do I?"

"No. I'm behind the eight ball, and I have to find a way to survive."

"By torture and killing?"

"Whatever."

"Doesn't it bother you at all?"

"Maybe. On some level. But I can't let it stop me." He paused. "Would it matter if I told you he admitted he had orders to kill?"

"I don't know." Her lips twisted. "You haven't seen fit to tell me enough about this so that I'd have enough information to judge. I don't think I could ever sanction torture or murder, no matter what the circumstances."

"You could. It would be difficult for you, but you could. We're all primitives. The anger would just have to be deep and blistering enough to tear away the last scruple." He closed his eyes again. "I'd hate to see it. There are few women like you. I like gentleness. Maybe because I have so little of it myself. You glow like a light…"

"Don't fall asleep, Marrok."

"I'm not. I'm just trying to make a decision, and I can't think straight when I'm looking at you. You disturb me." He was silent a moment, then called, "Walt."

"We're almost at the airport," Walt said over his shoulder. "I'll whisk you back to San Francisco in that kicky little jet to pick up the copter and we'll be at the ranch in no time."

"We're not going to the ranch yet. I want to go home."

Walt's brows rose. "That's a surprise."

"We won't stay long. I need to get something for this wound." He paused. "And Devon wants answers, and I'm going to give them to her."

Devon's eyes widened.

"Shocked?" Marrok was gazing at her again, his lips curved in a reckless smile. "There's no real reason not to bare my soul. Everything is heading toward an explosion anyway, and it will probably blow every safeguard I've put into place to kingdom come. You're right. You have a right to know everything I know. It may help to protect you if Danner manages to kill me." He reached out and stroked Ned's head. "And Ned will need a guardian. A very special guardian."

"You're sounding very pessimistic."

"I can be a moody bastard on occasion. It's an emotion I can't afford. That's when I go home and recharge."

"Where is home?"

"Arizona. Only a short flight, and we won't be there for more than a few hours." He held her eyes. "But this time I'm asking, not whisking you off. Will you come with me?"

She hesitated.

"Come," he said softly.

Why not? She suddenly knew she wanted to see the land of Marrok's roots, the surroundings that had created him. "Why not?" She nodded slowly. "If it's only for a few hours."