In Destiny's Shadow
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Ingrid Weaver
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14
Chapter 1
“If you help me, Fredo, I’ll help you.” Melina put her hand on his shoulder. She could feel the sharp outline of his bones through his denim jacket. He was trembling. The night carried the taste of autumn, but Fredo’s tremors likely weren’t due to the cold. “We don’t have to go to the local police if you don’t want to,” she said. “I know someone in the FBI. They would protect you. They could get you somewhere safe.”
“You don’t understand what Titan’s turning into.” Fredo shrugged off her grasp and stepped from the sidewalk into the alley where the streetlight didn’t reach. “Nowhere is safe. You can’t trust anyone.”
“Fredo—”
“The feds got all his labs. They destroyed his drugs, his equipment, everything. Half his guys were arrested. It made him flip out.”
Wind gusted past the canvas awning of the closed fruit market beside the alley, rattling the strings of dried chilies that hung out front. Melina’s skirt swirled against her calves, the wool rubbing over her suede boots with a noise like stealthy whispers.
She looked behind her to check that the street was still deserted. It was. They were far from the popular tourist haunts of downtown Santa Fe. There were no quaint adobe buildings or historic missions here, just modest shops, video places and liquor stores, all of them closed up hours ago. The only movement she could see came from dead leaves and bits of crumpled paper that skittered along the pavement.
Most women would find the situation unsettling, to say the least. It was two in the morning and she was standing at the entrance to a dark alley with a thief. Yet Melina Becker had faced far worse to get a story. She slipped one arm through her purse strap to loop it around her neck and followed Fredo into the darkness. “Do you know where Titan is now? I heard he has a stronghold. When you called me you said you had information.”
“All I have for you is a warning. You better stop what you’re doing.”
She detected a rising note of anxiety in his voice. Her pulse sped up. She must be closer to paydirt than she had thought. “I can’t stop yet, Fredo. Couldn’t you give me something?”
“You were decent to me once, Melina. That’s why I’m trying to do you a favor now. Why won’t you listen?”
“I’ve put months into this story, and I do realize how dangerous Titan is. I promise he’ll never know you talked to me.”
Fredo laughed, a high-pitched, nervous bark that echoed from the brick walls flanking them. “If you believe he won’t know, for sure you don’t know Titan at all. Ever since the feds raided his labs he’s more paranoid than ever. He scares me. I’m telling you, he flipped out.”
“How? What do you mean?”
“He was always weird, but now he’s over the edge. He’s got a stronghold, all right. It’s a regular fortress. He’s so paranoid now, he never leaves it.”
“Where—”
“Go back to New York. Get out of Santa Fe. Tonight. That’s what I’m doing.”
Melina reached for his arm. “Just give me something, Fredo. Anything. Tell me where to look.”
He turned away before she could touch him, tucking his chin farther into the collar of his jacket. “He’s in plain sight, but even if you look, you won’t see him. Honest to God, he thinks he’s some kind of magician.”
“I don’t understand. What—”
“I can’t go home, but you can.” He started walking toward the rectangle of faint light that marked the other end of the alley. “If you don’t, you’re going to get us both killed.”
Melina hurried after him. Her boot heels resounded hollowly from the walls, making it sound as if she were being followed. She took a second to check over her shoulder, but the shadows appeared empty. When she looked for Fredo again, he was already several yards ahead of her. “Titan’s here in New Mexico, right?” she persisted, increasing her pace. “You can give me that much, can’t you?”
Fredo broke into a jog. “Leave it alone.”
“Wait!” Melina stopped short as she barely avoided running into a utility pole that rose close to one wall. “Fredo, please.”
He dodged past the dark bulk of a garbage bin and left the alley at a run. The street he emerged on was narrower than the one at the other end. It was dimmer, too, lined with warehouses instead of stores. No light showed around the steel doors that were rolled down and locked for the night. Yet before Fredo was halfway across the street, his thin form was suddenly bathed in white.
There was a series of muffled pops. He jerked and stumbled sideways. Dark splotches appeared on his jacket, spreading over the worn denim like giant drops of water.
But it wasn’t raining. That wasn’t water. Melina skidded to a stop at the mouth of the alley and flattened herself against the side of the garbage bin.
Fredo crumpled to the pavement. An engine roared from the darkness, and a yellow van barreled down the center of the street. Gunfire flashed from the open passenger window, illuminating a pale, heavy-joweled face. Fredo’s body continued to jerk. The van lurched. Its right wheels ran over him with a noise like splintering wood. Without slowing down, it reached the end of the block, turned the corner and disappeared.
For an instant, Melina couldn’t move. She felt numb. The bag of chips that had passed for her dinner rose in her throat, making her gag, muffling her building scream. She staggered out of the alley, her legs boneless.
Oh, no. Not Fredo. Poor, hard-luck Fredo. She had just been talking to him. He couldn’t be…
You’re going to get us both killed.
She moved beside him and dropped to her knees. He was dead still, lying on his back, his limbs bent in unnatural angles and his head twisted to the side. His eyes were open, unblinking and already starting to glaze. There was a pool of blood under his cheek. More blood gleamed in the moonlight from the dark holes and the zigzag pattern of lines that smeared the front of his jacket.
The holes were bullet holes. The lines were tire tracks. Those sounds…Oh God! She swallowed hard. Her fingers shook as she extended her hand. She laid her palm on his chest. “Fredo, I’m sorry. I never meant—”
At the noise of an engine, she twisted to look behind her. Headlights swept across the pavement. The yellow van was coming back.
Melina’s mind was reeling from the brutality she had just witnessed. It took her a crucial second too long to process what was happening. By the time she sprang to her feet, the van was mere yards away, the glare of its headlights obscuring everything else.
She tried to jump out of its path, but the soles of her boots slipped in Fredo’s blood and she fell. Sticky warmth seeped through her skirt to her knees.
Oh, God. She was going to die. She didn’t want to die. Not now. Not when she was so close to getting everything she wanted—
She grunted with the impact. But it wasn’t the impact of a one-ton vehicle. A hard, male body slammed into her side, knocking her out of the way an instant before the van surged past.
Tires squealed. The van skidded into a U-turn at the end of the block.
“Let’s go!”
Melina looked up. The man who had tackled her was already on his feet. She had a quick impression of dark hair, broad shoulders and the scent of leather, but there wasn’t time to absorb more. He caught her under her arms and hauled her upright. “Come on!”
She wasn’t sure she could have spoken if she’d wanted to. There was no need. Not if she wanted to survive. Hiking up her skirt, she ran with him into the alley.
The van accelerated behind them, the engine whining with the strain. Mortar and fragments of brick sprayed the air as bullets struck the wall of the buildings on either side of them. The stranger grasped her wrist, spinning her to his chest. With one arm clamped around her waist, he lifted her from her feet and backed her behind the garbage bin at the alley’s entrance, using its bulk and his body to shield her from the bullets and the ricocheting debris. “Hang on,” he said.
She struggled in his embrace. Why was he stopping here? They weren’t safe yet. The alley wasn’t that narrow. The van could squeeze past the bin and they would be caught. “No. We have to keep going.”
He tensed, as if he were gathering his strength. A tremor went through his body, but otherwise he remained motionless.
Tires screeched again, so close, Melina drew in the smell of exhaust and burnt rubber. The van’s headlights swung into the alley. She shoved at the man’s chest. “We can’t stop. They’ll—”
Her words were drowned out by an explosion overhead. Melina stretched on her toes to peer past the stranger’s shoulder. Sparks showered downward from a transformer atop the utility pole she had almost run into when she’d chased Fredo. The air sizzled as something long and thin flicked through the alley above them, weaving like the end of a whip. It was a power line, Melina realized. It must have been severed by a stray bullet. It crackled in a smoking trail where the tip danced across the ground—and it cut off their only escape route.
Metal screeched as the side of the van scraped along the garbage bin.
The stranger scooped Melina into his arms and ran straight for the live wire.
She screamed, clutching the front of his jacket, her fingers digging into the leather.
The wire coiled, snakelike, hissing and spitting. It came so close, Melina felt a prickle of energy shoot through her nerves. She shuddered at the sensation and clung to the stranger. At the last possible second, he veered to the side, ducked safely past and set her back on her feet.
The wire swung directly into the front grille of the van that followed them. Bolts of blue-white brilliance arced along the metal. The engine died, along with the headlights. The van coasted forward a few feet but didn’t clear the steel bin. It stopped, caught between the bin on one side and the building on the other, the doors wedged shut. Sparks shot out from beneath the hood as the current passed through it and found a direct route to the ground. The sparks were followed by flames.
The stranger grabbed her elbow, wrenching her around. He tugged her forward. “Run! It’s going to blow!”
Melina didn’t need any more encouragement. She sprinted with him toward the other end of the alley. For a suspended moment, all she could hear was their pounding footsteps, the noise of their breathing and the hammering of her own pulse. One beat. Two. There was a crackling whoosh. She glanced over her shoulder. The van erupted in flames. One more heartbeat and the gas tank exploded. The alley was engulfed in a fireball.
The shockwave caught them before they could reach the street. The man lunged for her, wrapping his arms around her as they were lifted into the air. He twisted so that he took their combined weight on his back when they hit the ground, then quickly reversed their positions, sheltering her beneath him as embers and pieces of burning wreckage bounced from the walls and the pavement around them.
It seemed to go on forever. Melina tucked her face against his neck and squeezed her eyes shut. Her retinas burned with an afterimage of the fireball. Her ears rang. Her knees stung.
And her nerves were humming as if she were still too close to that live wire.
She struggled to draw air into her lungs. She tasted smoke and ozone…and warm male skin. Her lips tingled where she touched the stranger’s throat. A shiver shook her body. The hair at the nape of her neck stirred.
He rolled off her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head and opened her eyes. He was kneeling at her hip, a large, dark silhouette against the fire that crackled behind him. She could see the outline of his square jaw and caught a glint of gold at his ear but she couldn’t see his face. The fire was the only illumination—the streetlights beyond the alley had gone black.
He leaned over to run his hands along her arms and down her legs. He lingered at her knees. “I don’t think that’s your blood on your skirt.”
“No. It’s Fredo’s. I just was talking to him. I can’t believe—”
“I saw what happened. I’m sorry. Was he a friend of yours?”
“I didn’t even know his last name. Oh, God, he—” Her voice broke.
He slipped one arm under her back to help her sit up. “Can you walk?”
She swallowed hard before she could speak again. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just…winded. What you did back there…” She sounded scared. Well, she was scared, and she felt sick. But at least she was alive. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Sorry if I hurt you when I grabbed you.”
“We both could have been shot. And that wire—”
“We got lucky.”
“I have to call an ambulance. For Fredo.” She groped for her purse. The strap had twisted around her neck but it hadn’t broken. She pulled the purse to her lap, undid the clasp and shoved her hand inside. “I need my phone.”
“No, you don’t.” He got to his feet and held out his palm. “There’s nothing anyone can do for him now. Or for his killers.”
In her heart, she knew he was right. She had been at enough accident and crime scenes to recognize death when she saw it. Fredo was gone. She squinted at the burning wreckage of the van. Unless they had escaped out the back doors, the people who had killed him were dead, too.
Could she have saved the people in the van if she had gone back to help them? Probably not—everything had happened too fast. If she had tried, she would be dead now, either from electrocution, the explosion or from one of their bullets.
She fought back a wave of nausea. God, this was a nightmare.
“Come on, Miss Becker.” The man leaned over, caught her hand and tugged it out of her purse. “Time to leave before we have more company.”
The slide of his skin against hers sent a strange tickle up her arm, distracting her. She had started to rise before she realized what he had said. She tried to yank her hand free. “How do you know my name?”
He firmed his grasp and pulled her the rest of the way to her feet. “I’ll explain later. You need to get somewhere safe.”
“What’s going on? Who are you?”
“My name’s Anthony Caldwell.”
She tried to kick her brain into gear. The name wasn’t familiar—she was sure she had never met him—so how did he know her?
There was a sudden bang and a flare of light from the wreckage. The alley and everything in it was bathed in red. For the first time, she was able to see her rescuer’s face.
Once again, Melina couldn’t seem to draw air into her lungs. The man’s expression was as unyielding as his grip on her fingers. His features were all harsh lines and sharp angles, too austere to be termed handsome. His hair was thick and raven-black, pulled ruthlessly back and caught by a band at the nape of his neck. A thin gold hoop pierced his left earlobe. He looked hard, uncompromising. Untouchable.
Yet his gaze…oh, those green eyes snapped with power that shot right through her body, jolting her nerves to vivid awareness, sending her racing pulse into overdrive, reaching deep inside where she hid the pain….
She trembled. She felt as if she were being drawn forward. It took all her strength to keep from swaying into him. What was happening here?
The flare of light died. Oily smoke rolled over them. A dog barked somewhere in the distance above the crackle of the flames, jarring her back to reality.
“You have no reason to fear me, Miss Becker,” he said. “We’re on the same side.”
Melina yanked her hand free of his and stepped back. Her pulse still pounded. Traces of awareness trickled down her spine and hardened her nipples. Her nipples? She couldn’t be aroused, could she? Not now. What was wrong with her?
Her reaction to this man had to be shock, that’s all. Or adrenaline. She had to get herself under control. She had to think logically, objectively. Set aside her emotions and put the facts together. That was what she did best. That was who she was.
But who—and what—was he?
Anthony Caldwell was a complete stranger. She definitely had never met him before, or she would have remembered. Any woman would have remembered a man who caused a reaction like that.
She shoved her hand back into her purse. Her fingertips brushed the edge of her phone. This man had saved her life, but that was the only thing about him she knew for certain. The prudent thing to do now would be to call the police. “You said we were on the same side. What does that mean?”
“We both want the same thing.”
She turned the phone in her hand until her thumb was positioned over the keypad. “And what’s that?”
“Titan.”
This wasn’t how Anthony had wanted to play it. He did his best work in the shadows. He had never intended to meet Melina Becker face-to-face. It would have been simpler to follow her until he had the opportunity to take what he needed. But the man who called himself Titan had been a step ahead of him. Again.
Because of that, yet another soul had died.
Anthony’s knuckles whitened where he gripped the steering wheel. How many deaths were on the bastard’s hands now? How many more would there be before Anthony stopped him? Would any of them have happened if he had been stopped twenty-eight years ago, after the first one?
He kept the Jeep steady despite the burst of rage that shook him. The anger was nothing new. He couldn’t remember a time without it.
He spotted the oval green-on-white sign that was the trademark of the Grand Inn chain, and turned into the parking lot. Out of habit, he backed the Jeep into a spot so that he could get out quickly, then shut off the engine and looked at his passenger.
She probably thought that clenching her hands in her lap that way would hide the tremor in her fingers. It must be important to her not to show weakness. Anthony could understand that. For a woman who had witnessed a murder and had narrowly missed becoming a victim herself, she was holding up well.
He had expected no less. Melina was the lead crime reporter for the New York Daily Journal. She hadn’t gotten to the top of her field by being a coward. It had taken some nerve to fly halfway across the country and walk into a deserted alley in the dead of night to meet a source. Almost as much nerve as it had taken for her to get into this Jeep with him.
Then again, he knew she would do anything to get the man she knew as Titan. They had that much in common.
She turned her head to meet his gaze. Her auburn curls were backlit by the floodlight over the motel office, giving them the appearance of a halo. The curve of her cheek was softly feminine, gleaming like satin. Her lips were full and shaped in a classic bow, and he couldn’t help remembering how good she had felt in his arms.
Had she sensed the sexual current that had flowed between them back there in the alley? Its strength had taken him by surprise. It had been all he could do to bring it back under control, but he’d had no choice. He couldn’t afford the distraction. This was the wrong time, the wrong place and definitely the wrong woman.
Her gaze glittered, not with interest but with challenge. “I didn’t tell you I was staying here, Mr. Caldwell.”
“You didn’t need to. The Daily Journal always puts its people in the Grand Inn chain. They’re both owned by the same company.”
“How do you know that?”
“I looked it up on the Internet. Now you need to pack your things. I’ll answer your other questions once we get you out of here.” He opened his door and stepped to the ground. He had to grit his teeth against a wave of dizziness. It had taken more out of him than he’d thought to blow that transformer and snap the high tension wire.
“Just a minute,” she said. “You said we would talk about Titan. That’s why I came with you. I’m not going any farther until—”
He slammed the door on her protest and rounded the hood to the passenger side. He paused until the dizziness had passed, then flung open her door and held out his hand. “We don’t have much time, Miss Becker. I couldn’t be the only one who figured out you’re staying here. Someone in Titan’s network must have learned about your meeting with Fredo tonight. They don’t leave loose ends.”
Her gaze darted past him as she scanned the parking lot. She drew her lower lip between her teeth. It was an unconscious gesture, another chink in the brave front she was trying so hard to project.
Anthony felt a sudden urge to pull her into his arms and protect her the way he had before. Instead, he withdrew the hand he had offered and gripped the edge of the door. He had to maintain his focus. Hers wasn’t the only life at risk. “I’m staying at the Pecos Lodge. It’s built around a courtyard and is more out of the way than this place. I’ll book you a room there under another name.”
“I could go to the police.”
“Yes, you could, but you already chose not to,” he said, mentally replaying the cell phone call she had made from his Jeep. “Why didn’t you give your name when you called to tell them about Fredo’s murder?”
She returned her gaze to his face. “Fredo said I shouldn’t trust anyone. That could mean Titan has an informant on the local force.”
“Then why did you trust me?”
“What makes you think I do?”
“You came with me.”
“I would go with the devil himself if it got me to Titan.”
Anthony was familiar with the signs of obsession—he recognized them in himself. That Melina’s obsession stemmed from professional reasons rather than personal made no difference. He would use it to his advantage. “There’s another reason why you didn’t go to the police.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“You don’t want them to get between you and your story.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll give you five minutes to pack. Then I’m leaving, with or without you.”
She gathered her skirt to one side, swung her legs out of the Jeep and hopped to the ground. She led the way across the parking lot to her room in silence. As soon as they were inside and he had closed the door behind them, she turned to face him. “Look, I came this far with you because you know something about Titan. And I’m going along with your suggestion about checking out of this motel because I agree with you about that. It would be safer to change location on the off chance Titan learned I met Fredo. But let’s get one thing straight.”
“What?”
“I don’t take orders, Mr. Caldwell.” She put her fists on her hips and drew herself up. “And as much as I appreciate the way you saved my life, I won’t be bullied.”
She was tall for a woman, and the suede boots that hugged her calves had good-size heels. Because of that, she didn’t need to tilt her head much to meet his gaze. It reminded him of how well their bodies had fit together when he’d been holding her—
Concentrate, he told himself. “It was never my intention to bully you, Miss Becker. I’m merely stating the most logical course of action.”
“No, you were trying to push me, and it won’t work. Yes, I want my story, but you must want something from me. It couldn’t have been coincidence that you happened to show up in that alley tonight. You must have been following me since I left this motel. What is it? What do you want?”
She shouldn’t have put it that way, he thought. What would any man want when he was at a motel in the middle of the night with a woman who made his blood hum the way it did now? He brought his index finger to her cheek. He stopped short of touching her, yet he could feel her warmth reach out to him, drawing him closer, making him yearn for the time to explore where this could lead.
But they didn’t have time, and he couldn’t afford this. The sooner he got what he came for, the safer everyone would be. He dropped his hand. “I already told you.”
“Right. You said you want Titan.”
“He has to be brought to justice.”
“Absolutely. We agree on that much, but you didn’t answer my question. What do you want from me?”
“I want your files.”
Her eyes widened. She took a step back. “You can’t be serious.”
“I need the information you’ve gathered. Your notes, your files, your list of contacts. You’re closer than the police are to learning where Titan is. Combined with what I know, that will lead me—”
“Whoa. I should have seen it. You’re a reporter. That’s how you know so much about me and the Journal. What paper do you work for?”
“I’m not a reporter. I don’t work for anyone but myself.”
“Prove it.”
“My questions should prove it. I’m not interested in what Titan has done, I only care about where he is now.”
She studied him, as if trying to read the truth on his face. “Well, whatever you claim, you’ve got some nerve thinking I’d give anything away. I’m not telling you where Titan is. This is my story. I’ve been tracking him for months and I intend to be there when he’s arrested.”
“You can’t plan to continue. You were almost killed tonight. They won’t give up.”
She turned away. There was a pale green carry-on bag on a suitcase stand beside the door. She picked up the bag and took it to the desk in the corner. “I don’t give up, either,” she said. A laptop computer sat on the desk, surrounded by disorderly piles of handwritten notes. She unplugged the laptop and slipped it into a pocket on the outside of the bag, then gathered the papers and stuffed them in, as well. She zipped the pocket closed and faced him, her chin lifted and her shoulders squared. “And just in case you’re thinking of stealing this stuff, don’t bother.”
That was exactly what he’d been thinking. It would have been the simplest solution, after all. That was why he’d been watching her room earlier tonight—he’d planned to enter when she was asleep and help himself to what he needed. But when he had seen her go out, he’d decided to follow her instead. “Miss Becker…Melina.”
“Because it wouldn’t do you any good,” she continued. “I use the computer mostly for research and for sending finished copy to my editor. And I use my own brand of shorthand for my notes.” She tapped her temple. “Most of what I know is in here.”
“That’s all the more reason for you to be concerned about your safety.”
“I am concerned. That’s why I’m packing.” She placed the bag on the bed. Her gaze dropped to the bloodstains on her skirt. For a moment she wavered, clenching her hands the way she had in the Jeep.
It was obvious to Anthony she was still struggling to control her emotions. He took a step forward, but she recovered quickly and turned to the dresser. It was just as well. He probably shouldn’t touch her again.
Moving mechanically, she emptied the dresser drawers and the room’s small closet. With the skill of a habitual traveler, she rolled the garments smoothly—there weren’t many—and squeezed them into the middle compartment of the bag. She walked to the bathroom. “If you’re not doing a story, then what’s your connection to Titan?” she asked over her shoulder. “Did you work for him?”
Anthony followed her. The bathroom was small and didn’t appear to have a window, so he stopped in the doorway. “I’ll answer that question if you tell me what you know.”
“That isn’t the way it works.” She used her forearm to sweep the belongings off the counter beside the sink into another pocket of her bag. “You should be giving me information, not the other way around.”
“And you shouldn’t be risking your life for a story.”
“My work is my life, Mr. Caldwell,” she said. “And I’m going to break the news about Titan. What he did tonight to Fredo is only the latest in a string of crimes that’s more extensive than anyone believes.” She hitched the strap of the carry-on over her shoulder and brushed past him.
He turned to keep her in sight. “You don’t have to convince me of that, Miss Becker. His thugs attacked and almost killed my friend.”
She paused at the foot of the bed to look at him. Some of the antagonism eased from her expression. “Why?”
“Because my friend wouldn’t tell them where to find my sisters and me.” He moved toward her and reached for her bag. “Here. I’ll carry that for you.”
She curled her fingers around the strap. “No, thanks.”
“You still don’t trust me?”
“No, but if Titan hurt your friend and is threatening your family, I can understand why you would want to see him brought to justice.”
Anthony didn’t respond. If she ever discovered what he really planned to do with the bastard, she would be even less inclined to trust him. He walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. “The five minutes are up. Time to go.”
Melina gave the room a final survey, then moved to join him. She put her free hand on his arm. “Why would Titan be after your family?”
“Where is Titan hiding?”
She hesitated briefly, her lips thinning, then sighed and gave a crisp nod. “All right. If it turns out you’re telling the truth, we might be able to make a deal.”
He looked at where her fingers rested against his jacket sleeve. Her nails were trimmed short and bare of polish, her grip firm, yet there was a delicate femininity in the shape of her hand. Her touch couldn’t penetrate the leather, but he sensed it just the same. “What kind of deal, Melina?”
“You might have information about Titan that I could use.”
“And in return?”
“In return for an interview, I promise to call you before I break the story.” She patted his arm. “Aside from the FBI, you’ll be the first one to know where he is.”
It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a start. He took her hand. The contact teased through his palm and raised the hair on his arm. At her intake of breath, he lifted his gaze. Her lips seemed closer to his than before. Had she swayed toward him? Had she felt it, too?
Anthony released his grip and forced himself to look away. He knew what he wanted. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t this.
Melina Becker was a means to an end, that was all. Anthony didn’t have the time or the right to indulge his cravings with her. He had to control this connection between them. He had no choice.
For Anthony’s destiny had been determined twenty-eight years ago. He had been three years old when he’d watched Titan commit his first murder.
Back then, Titan had called himself Benedict Payne.
And back then, Anthony had called him father.
