Next to the stairs were eight bunk beds. She opened a door and found a bathroom with a tiled shower.
A shiver snaked down her spine as she gazed around the room. Another door was near the bunk beds. She opened it and found a small, windowless room with a narrow bed. No light switch. Nothing to chase away the darkness...
A sly, rollicking laugh echoed in her mind. You will never escape us....
Whimpering, Keira slammed the door and leaned against it, the crystal in her left fist squeezed tight. She raced up the stairs.
Maybe she’d tackle that room tomorrow.
* * *
Dale arrived home after seven. When he walked into the kitchen, Keira noticed the shadows beneath his gray eyes were pronounced and dark.
He flipped the light switch, flooding the room with overhead lighting. The man was thin and haggard, and looking worse each day. If he didn’t regain strength soon, he’d lose the fight to darkness. Keira glanced up from the pot of stew she stirred on the stove. He brightened as he sniffed the air.
“Smells great, but you don’t have to cook. I usually grab a sandwich at the commissary.”
“I like cooking and making new dishes.”
And you need more than sandwiches to get your health back.
He eyed the dining-room table, set with the china she’d found in the elegant cabinet. “I just eat in the kitchen.”
“This is nicer, though, don’t you think?” He had such nice things. Keira wanted to relish and experience every good thing she could while she was free.
He sighed deeply, as if something hurt him. “It’s been a long time since I sat down at a dining-room table.”
Dale looked down at his uniform. “You went to a lot of trouble. Mind if I change first?”
“The stew will keep warm. Unless you decide on a hot bubble bath.”
“I never take bubble baths alone, only with company. Saves on water.”
He gave a real smile, showing white, even teeth. The smile lit up his face and chased away all the dark shadows.
Keira stared out the kitchen window as he went upstairs. Her pulse raced. First time alone all night with the man she’d tortured, a man of honor and integrity and tremendous power. She didn’t underestimate his rough appearance. If he wanted, Dale Curtis could turn her to ashes with one flick of his hand.
A few minutes later, Dale returned to the kitchen, clad in khaki trousers and a navy blue polo shirt. Deck shoes covered his feet. He went into the dining room and returned with a sparkling crystal wineglass.
“What do you think?” he asked. He went for the built-in wine rack among the cabinets. “Red or white?”
She hadn’t drunk spirits in ages and placed the glasses on the table more as pretty decor. It was dangerous to imbibe around him, dangerous to lower her guard. But he was acting more animated and she didn’t want to spoil the mood. “Red, I think. You select it.”
Dale opened a bottle and poured a small amount. “I haven’t had wine since I got home from the hospital. Just beer, and I rarely finish the bottle.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She watched him sample the vintage and nod. “Excellent.”
“How long were you in the hospital?”
“Long enough.”
As he carried the bottle and glass into the dining room, she ladled the stew into two bowls. He turned on the crystal chandelier hanging over the table. A lump rose in Keira’s throat.
She had been forced to torture him in the dark. He never knew when she’d attack, never saw her coming, only felt the burning agony of her sharp claws.
Dale filled her glass with wine as they sat. Keira tried not to think of what she’d done to this man, but the stew tasted like cardboard as she ate.
He looked up, his brows arched. “It’s very good. I taste thyme. Did you season the stew with it?”
Keira flushed under the praise. “Thyme and other spices.”
Dale smiled, the sharp angles and plains of his face softening. “You’re a good cook. I thought New Agers ate only wheat sprouts and fruit.”
Keira thought quickly. “In all my travels, I had to adapt to various lifestyles, so I learned to enjoy their foods, as well.”
He toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “You’re a gypsy.”
“With a Harley instead of a caravan. I like to travel and see the country.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s so much to this life to see, and experience.” Keira spooned up more stew. “I want to relish every single moment I’ve been given and find the good in people, the good I know exists.”
“It doesn’t always exist. There is much evil.”
“And good.”
“That’s not my job. My job is to find the evil and eradicate it, to keep the American people safe.”
Keira’s heart pounded like an excited dog’s tail against the floor. She set down her spoon. “You’re too young to be so cynical.”
“Old enough. Seen enough.” Dale sipped his wine. “My family was insular. I chose against it.”
“Why?”
“Because they cared only about money and status. When I chose to join the navy and become a SEAL, they were not happy. But serving my country, and keeping civilians safe, meant more to me than making millions, like my father wanted me to do.”
“Who is your family?”
Dale raised a brow. “In all your travels, you’ve never heard of Curtis Mark Industries? The software empire, second only to Bill Gates and Steven Jobs? That’s my father’s company.”
“You wanted to rebel against your father so you didn’t work for him?”
“I wanted to do something with my life other than remain a part of a society that cared only for being seen and flaunting their power. There’s an evil I wanted to eliminate to keep others safe. I have much power and what good is power if you don’t use it to help others?”
Keira was touched at his dedication and selflessness. The Mage could have had a very comfortable, and very safe, lifestyle. She tilted her head, studying him. Why did she have the feeling she’d met him somewhere before, around the time the demons killed her pack?
But all those memories from Nicaragua were scrambled. The demons had seen to it by infusing her with four drops of their blood when they became temporarily corporeal.
“You sacrificed a lot to keep others safe. Your parents would be proud. I would be.”
“They
