A Family Affair
Disclaimer: Same as the preceding chapters.
Author's Note: I must apologize for the inexcusably long delay between chapters. To be honest, I was more than a little intimidated by the prospect of having to write an action sequence, and kept putting it off! Hopefully, I didn't embarrass myself! Enjoy!
Chapter 62.
Just before the transport rounded the corner of the last turnoff, the Witchblade flared bright in warning, and Sara received a brief vision of a dozen heavily armed, body-armor-clad men blocking their exit to the surface.
*Hold up, Ian! We've got company down here!* Sara warned Nottingham. *I counted 12 men.*
*No surprise there,* he murmured, slowing the transport to a halt. *Please wait here for a moment, my Lady,* he requested, hopping out. After a quick look around the corner showed that about 30 yards separated them, Ian boldly strode into plain sight of the assembled men.
"Lieutenant Hopkins," he acknowledged, instantly recognizing the former Navy Seal. 'A wise choice as my replacement,' he thought to himself. 'Hopkins is an experienced soldier with natural leadership ability whose military records show that's he's calm under pressure, which is why I recommended that he be put in charge of the estate's security in my absence. Obviously, father took my advice.'
"Mr. Nottingham," the man replied, nodding. "I don't suppose you'd consider surrendering without a fight and willingly returning to the estate?" he asked hopefully.
Sara saw the corners of Ian's lips curl upward briefly in one of his famous almost-smiles. "I am afraid not, Lieutenant."
The other man nodded again. "I didn't think so, but it couldn't hurt to ask." He shrugged. "I guess we're gonna have to do this the hard way then."
Now Ian inclined his head. "It would appear so. You should know that I have no wish to kill you or your men, but I will if I have to."
"And we don't want to use deadly force against you if we can avoid it," the lieutenant responded, "but we have our orders." Truth be told, Graham Hopkins badly wanted to avoid having to fight Ian Nottingham if at all possible. The man's lethal reputation preceded him, and despite his claim to the contrary, Hopkins was not at all certain the 11 men he commanded would be enough to defeat the assassin. If he'd had his druthers, Hopkins would have brought twice as many men with him, but there had been numerous casualties during the battle with the Russians, and the ranks had been spread even thinner by Irons' insistence that three teams be sent out into the field in a vain attempt to track down and recapture Nottingham.
'Where's the woman?' Graham thought to himself. 'Irons said Nottingham would have Detective Sara Pezzini with him.' The billionaire had also reluctantly admitted that his personal bodyguard and head of security had gone A.W.O.L., explaining that Nottingham had become infatuated with the beautiful homicide detective and that this infatuation had clouded his judgment, leading him to abandon his duties. Privately, Graham had found this extremely hard to believe. He'd had almost no interaction with Ian Nottingham since being hired by Vorschlag Industries a little over a year ago, but from the few encounters he had had, he'd gotten the distinct impression that the man was not the least bit interested in the female of the species. In fact, speculation ran rampant among the estate staff about the nature of the relationship between Kenneth Irons and his extremely intimidating and mysterious head of security. Whispered rumors suggested that it was much, much closer than simply employer and employee. So, when Mr. Irons had told him the reason why the assassin had disappeared, Graham had been highly skeptical about the veracity of the story, although he'd been careful not to let this show.
However, his employer had gone on to explain that Detective Pezzini had in her possession something that belonged to him, an ancient artifact that he wanted back at any cost, even if it meant having to kill her to retrieve it. The former Navy Seal had been unable to hide his uneasiness at the thought of murdering a New York City homicide detective, but Irons had promised him that there would be no repercussions for him or his men if it came to that. He'd claimed that Sara Pezzini was a dirty cop who had stolen the priceless artifact -- a silver bracelet set with a large red stone -- from the museum where it had been on loan. The billionaire had told Hopkins that she wore the bracelet on her right wrist, and had stressed that it and the woman, dead or alive, were to be brought to him once Nottingham had been defeated.
"You're outnumbered and out-armed, Nottingham," Graham tried reasoning with his predecessor as a last resort. "Surely, you realize that."
"If it were just me that you and your men were dealing with I might have to concede that fact, Lieutenant Hopkins," Ian admitted. "However, I am not alone."
Sara took this as her cue. Climbing out of the transport, she casually strolled to Ian's side.
"Hello, boys," she purred. "Can I play, too?"
"Detective Pezzini," Lieutenant Hopkins acknowledged her. "You have something that belongs to my employer. My orders are to return to the estate with you and Mr. Nottingham. Preferably alive."
"Thanks for the gracious invite, but no thanks," Sara declined. "We'll just be leaving now."
Hopkins shook his head. "I'm sorry, Detective, but I can't just let the two of you walk out of here."
"Okay, but just to be fair, I gotta warn you that this thing doesn't have a stun setting," Sara informed him, holding up her right arm and pushing back her sleeve to reveal that the bracelet Irons had described graced her wrist. "And once It gets a taste of blood, It tends to go berserk, taking me along for the ride."
Puzzlement must have shown on the faces of Hopkins and his men because she and Nottingham exchanged meaningful looks, and then Detective Pezzini said, "Why am I not surprised that your shithead of a boss left out a few very important details about me and my pretty bracelet, Lieutenant?"
"Like what?" Hopkins queried cautiously, suddenly getting a very bad feeling about the whole situation.
"Like the fact that this is no ordinary bracelet and I'm no ordinary woman. It's an ancient, sentient weapon of mass destruction called the Witchblade, and I'm Its Wielder." As if sensing the impending violence, the Witchblade suddenly transformed into an armored gauntlet that bristled with nasty-looking spikes, and gleaming silver metal rapidly expanded to cover Sara's arm to the shoulder. "Still wanna rumble?" she smirked.
Several of Hopkins' men shot each other nervous looks, but their leader refused to back down. "I have my orders, Detective," he said resolutely. He nodded toward one of his men, and abruptly a strobe light was activated. To his credit, the young commanding officer didn't show a hint of dismay when the light had no effect whatsoever on Nottingham.
"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you," Sara shrugged. "Now, who wants to get their ass kicked first?"
Then she froze as a brief vision assailed her. *They've gotten the elevator you disabled working again,* she informed Ian telepathically moments later. *Two backup teams are hot on our trail, moving at double time, which means they'll probably be here in less than 15 minutes. We better get a move on.*
*Let's do this,* Ian replied.
In the blink of an eye, Sara's entire body was covered in armor. "Ladies first!" she yelled, and charged down the corridor.
At Hopkins' signal, his men opened fire, first with tranquilizer darts, but when those bounced harmlessly off Sara's armor, they began firing bullets, most of which she deflected with astonishing speed and ease. Those that eluded her metal-clad hands and arms ricocheted off her back at the shooters, forcing them to stop firing. Seconds later, she was among them, and one by one, men started falling. None of them got back up.
Sara targeted the soldier that had the misfortune to be holding the strobe light, knocking it from his hand before rendering him unconscious with a single blow to his helmeted head. The light shattered on the floor and stopped flashing. Dimly, she was aware that her Protector had yet to join the battle, and she felt a surge of satisfaction that he so obviously believed she could handle herself. His pride in her was palpable, and it warmed her even as the Witchblade-induced bloodlust reared its ugly head.
Ian deliberately hung back for a couple of minutes so that he could observe the Wielder in action. She was magnificent in her gleaming metal armor, although she moved so fast, even his eyes had difficulty following her. Her natural fighting ability already made her a formidable foe, but when combined with Witchblade-enhanced speed, strength, and agility, she truly was a sight to behold as she cut through the phalanx of soldiers like a hot knife through butter. With a thrill of excitement, he realized that once she received formal training on how to expertly wield the ancient weapon's myriad forms, she would be damn near invincible. Ian clearly sensed the bloodlust rising in her, but was glad to see that she was thus far using restraint in besting her opponents, disabling rather than killing them as she so very easily could have. These young men didn't deserve to die; they were just following orders, and thanks to his father, were wholly unprepared for the savagery of a True Wielder. Then Ian heard Hopkins order his men to regroup for one last assault, and he decided that it was time for him to join the battle.
*Thanks for softening them up for me, my Love,* Ian sent to Sara, *but I think I can take it from here.*
Somehow, the familiar sound of her Protector's "voice" in her head enabled Sara to rein in the berserker rage that had been threatening to consume her, and now it was her turn to admire his fighting prowess. She turned her head to watch as Nottingham took on the remaining men, the hapless soldier that she held pinned against the wall by the throat forgotten.
Moving with inhuman speed and a predator's deadly grace, the former assassin used a combination of martial arts moves and sheer strength to subdue his foes. Although expertly trained in hand-to-hand combat, the men were simply no match for him. He wasn't even breathing hard when the last of his opponents succumbed to a zap from the taser in his gloved hand.
That left Lieutenant Graham Hopkins as the last man standing -- just barely. He was reeling from a vicious backhand blow to the face by a metal- encased hand, and blood was streaming from his nose, which in all likelihood was broken. It certainly felt like it was.
Carelessly, Sara dropped the now unconscious man she'd been throttling and turned to face the lieutenant. "The situation isn't looking too good for you, Lieutenant Hopkins," she murmured, glancing around at his fallen comrades. She couldn't tell for sure, but she thought most of them were merely unconscious rather than dead, much to her relief. But they definitely weren't going to be happy campers when and if they eventually came to. The sound of breaking bones coupled with screams of agony had echoed through the tunnel with resounding clarity throughout the skirmish. Now only a few groans and muffled whimpers of pain could be heard. "Kenny's gonna be mighty disappointed in you."
"I can make this quick and relatively painless," Ian told Hopkins, holding up the taser. "It is up to you."
"Take your best shot," the former Navy Seal said defiantly, assuming a rather wobbly battle stance. He shook his head in an obvious attempt to clear it, sending droplets of blood flying.
"Oh, for Christ's sake! We don't have time for this macho bullshit," Sara growled, aware that they were expecting company any minute. She pointed her gauntleted right hand at him, and suddenly Hopkins stiffened, glazed eyes widening in a transfixed stare.
"Interesting," Ian commented. He glided closer to the enthralled man and placed the taser against his neck. There was an audible "Zzzzt!," and Hopkins dropped to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
"Well, that's a new one," Sara murmured, eyeing her metal-encased hand askance. "I guess It does have a stun setting after all. Who knew?" Abruptly, the Witchblade returned to Its deceptively innocuous bracelet form, Its prodigious appetite for violence whetted for the moment.
"Shall we?" Ian said, gesturing toward the waiting elevator.
"Gladly," Sara breathed, stepping over the slew of motionless bodies without a backward glance.
"You did very well, my Lady," Ian complimented her once the elevator doors had closed and the car began its ascent, "as I knew you would."
"You're no slouch yourself, Cowboy," Sara grinned. She eyed his long, lean body hungrily. "I'm suddenly so horny, it's not even funny!" she blurted out.
Startled hazel eyes met hers. "I believe it is the after effects of the bloodlust," he muttered, feeling his body begin to respond to the heat in her smoldering green gaze. "A massive amount of endorphins are flooding your brain at the moment."
Sara shook her head. "Uh-unh. It's you, lover. Seeing you in action made me wanna --"
"Move to the side, Sara," Ian reluctantly interrupted her, mindful of the fact that they were not yet in the clear. "There may be an ambush waiting for us up here." As the elevator slowed perceptibly, he unhooked a flash grenade from his weapons harness. Moments later, the car came to a stop and the inner doors parted to reveal the vault-like outer door.
"Cover your eyes," he cautioned, keying the security code into the keypad in the center of the door. He pulled the grenade's pin as the heavy door slowly began to swing open, and then tossed the explosive device through the still-narrow opening. Seconds later, it detonated with a concussive "WHOMP!" and a blinding flash of light, and then Ian dove through the doorway.
After a minute, when Sara didn't hear any gunfire or shouts, she cautiously poked her head around the side of the elevator just as her Protector reappeared.
"The basement is all clear," he told her, reentering the elevator. He pried open the control panel and detached some wires, disabling the car. "How close are the mobile teams?"
"You tell me," Sara said, extracting the handheld device from her coat pocket and handing it to him. "You're way more familiar with the routes leading here than I am."
Ian glanced at the grids. "We do not have much time. Let us hope there are not more men upstairs," he murmured, heading for the stairs. "Please wait down here until I give the all clear, my Lady."
"Um, the Witchblade isn't going off, so I think we're okay," she ventured, following him.
"Humor me," he said. "Please?"
Sara sighed. "Okay."
He ascended the steps and keyed in the door's security code. She blinked as one moment he was standing at the top of the stairs and then in the next he was gone. Two minutes later, he sent *The place is deserted. Let's leave before the field operatives show up, which could be any minute now. Luckily, nobody thought to disable our vehicle.*
*Here I come!* Sara replied, sprinting up the stairs. The lock clicked as she reached the top of the stairs, and Ian pulled the door open. She took a moment to once again admire the elegant lines and spacious dimensions of the gorgeous house as she followed Ian out to the garage and the idling SUV.
Several tense minutes passed before they had traveled what felt like a safe distance from the neighborhood and were convinced that they hadn't been followed. Still, neither of them relaxed until they reached the I-95 and began heading toward the city.
Sara turned toward Ian. "Although what I'd really like to do is tear your clothes off and have my way with you, I'm gonna call Danny," she informed him. "I've gotta come clean to him about the Witchblade and us, and there's no time like the present."
Ian smiled at her candor and then nodded. "Agreed." Briefly taking his eyes off the road, he met her gaze. "And me, too," he added huskily.
Taking out her cell phone, Sara dialed her partner's home phone before she could lose her nerve.
"Woo residence," Danny answered on the second ring.
"Hey, Danny, it's me, Pez."
"Hey, Partner. How's it going? You enjoying your days off?"
"Hell yeah. How 'bout you?"
"Well, to tell you the truth," he lowered his voice, "it was fun being snowed in for the first couple of days, but we're all starting to get a touch of cabin fever. To make matters worse, the weatherman is saying we might get another foot of snow tonight."
"Yeah, I heard that, too," Sara said, leaning forward in her seat to peer up at the sky through the windshield. The day had started out bright and sunny, but it had become overcast while she and Ian had been underground. "Listen, Danny, do you think Lee would mind if I swung by and took you out to lunch? I need to talk to you about something really important."
"Hold on a minute, and I'll go ask her." She heard him put the phone down.
"He's asking the missus if he can come out and play," Sara informed Ian, who nodded.
"Pez?" Danny came back on the line.
"Yeah, I'm still here."
"She said it's okay. Una will be napping by then and Mija is getting ready to head over to a friend's house up the block, so Lee will have some alone time, which I know she'll enjoy," he said a touch ruefully.
"Great, we--, uh, I'll pick you up in about an hour and a half."
"So, are we gonna take public transportation or what?" Danny queried, thankfully letting her slip of the tongue go unchallenged, "'cause I haven't dug the car out yet."
"Um, no. I've, uh, borrowed a friend's car," she fibbed.
There was a slight pause. "Uh-hunh. Well, I'll see you in a little while, Pez," her partner said. "Bye."
"Bye, Danny." She put the phone back in her pocket and then looked at her Protector's profile. "First, I'm gonna tell him about the Witchblade, and then I'm gonna tell him about us." She hesitated. "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be there when we finally get around to discussing your past."
"Agreed," Ian murmured. "However, may I suggest that you have this discussion in private? It would not do for your conversation to be overheard."
"Yeah, you're right. As you know, Danny doesn't live that far from me. We'll get takeout and bring it back to my place."
"You can drop me off at your loft so that I can make certain it is safe for you to return there, then you can go get Detective Woo. I will wait in the alley for you to return. Leave the car keys in your mailbox. I will retrieve them once you and your partner have gone upstairs," Ian told her.
"Our talk will probably take a while," Sara pointed out. "What will you do in the meantime?"
He cocked his head thoughtfully but didn't take his eyes off the road. "Perhaps I will go visit Gabriel," he said. "Do you think he would mind?"
"Why don't you call him and see if he's busy?"
"Perhaps I will do that."
They rode in silence for a while.
"Ian," Sara said hesitantly, "you're gonna return to the estate tonight, aren't you?"
He nodded, glancing at her. "Yes, Sara, I am."
"I don't want you to go," she whispered.
"And I do not want to leave you," he told her. "But just as you must confront your partner with the truth, I must do the same with my father. The sooner I begin the process of winning my freedom from him, the sooner we can be together again, this time for good."
"If he lays one finger on you, I'm gonna beat the crap outta him, so help me God," Sara said fiercely.
"I promised you that I will not allow him to beat me again, Sara, and I meant it," Ian reiterated. "So, you do not have to worry about me on that account."
She hunched one shoulder. "I'll always worry about you, my love," she admitted softly, "especially where Kenny's concerned. I wouldn't put it past him to try to kill you once he realizes that you're eventually gonna leave him to be with me. And I'm convinced that even if Joe's plan works like a charm, he'll never stop interfering with our lives."
Ian sighed. "Unfortunately, that is a distinct possibility. He is obsessed with controlling the Witchblade, and will be until the day he dies."
"Which, at this rate, might be never!" Sara said unhappily. "If you do end up hanging with Gabriel, maybe you wouldn't mind asking him his opinion on why the Witchblade apparently wants your father to stay in the picture," she suggested. "Gabe's pretty well versed on Witchblade lore, so he might be able to come up with a theory about Irons' role in the scheme of things."
"Yes, I had noticed that about him," Ian murmured thoughtfully.
A sudden realization struck Sara. 'Well, I'll be! Gabriel must be who Boudica was referring to when she mentioned somebody called the Mythkeeper in that vision I had yesterday. She said that I already know him well and that I trust him implicitly and have ever since the day I met him. Gabriel fits that description to a tee,' she mused to herself.
"Why are you smiling, my love?" Ian queried, catching the flash of white teeth out of the corner of his eye.
"Hmmm? Oh, I just had an epiphany about Gabriel," she said, finally giving in to the urge to touch him. Reaching over, she tucked a strand of soft, dark hair behind his ear. Several had managed to escape restraint during the battle and now curled fetchingly around his face. She quivered in lightning-quick response when he captured her hand in his and pressed warm lips to her fingertips.
"What sort of epiphany?" he asked, entwining her fingers with his.
"Yesterday, when I asked the Witchblade for permission to tell my friends and family about It and me being Its Wielder, a woman who called herself Boudica appeared in my vision," Sara told him. "She claimed to have once been a True Wielder a long time ago. I was curious about who she'd been, so I asked her what her story was, but she told me to ask somebody called the Mythkeeper about her. She said I already knew and trusted this person, which, of course, narrowed the field down considerably," she said wryly. "I just now realized that she must have meant Gabriel."
Ian nodded. "I am familiar with the legend of the Mythkeeper," he informed her. "Although my father never referred to Gabriel by that title, I am fairly certain he had already identified him as such. I believe that is why he felt it was necessary to send me to attempt to intimidate him into no longer supplying you with information about the Witchblade."
"Yeah, it doesn't surprise me that Kenny wants to be the only one doling out info. He really is a raging control freak, isn't he?"
"You have no idea," Ian said grimly.
"No, but I'm beginning to get one, and it's not a pretty picture." She untangled her fingers from his and massaged his right temple soothingly. "How's your headache?"
"Better. And I am happy to report that my shoulder did not give me any problems while I was fighting."
"I'm glad to hear that. Did I mention how freaking unbelievable you are as a fighter, Ian? I'm pretty sure those poor bastards wouldn't have stood a chance even if I hadn't softened them up for you. You gotta teach me some of your moves."
"I would be glad to. You already possess great reflexes and abundant natural fighting ability, my Lady, but once you truly learn how to fight with the Witchblade, you will become virtually unbeatable."
"Then what do I need a Protector for?" she teased him, tugging on his earlobe.
"Wild monkey sex?" he hazarded, straight-faced.
Sara laughed. "You got that right!" Then she sobered. "God, I'm gonna miss waking up in your arms," she said softly.
"And I can hardly bear the thought of being apart from you," Ian whispered, grasping her hand and holding it against his heart. *In fact, the only thing that will make it bearable is our ability to communicate with each other like this,* he sent.
*Oh, yeah, that's right! Hey, I just had a fantastic idea!* she said excitedly. *We can have telepathic sex! It'll sorta be like phone sex, but waaaay better!*
*'Phone sex'?* Ian queried, glancing at her curiously. *Sounds . . . intriguing.*
*Oh, you have so very much to learn, young Jedi,* Sara grinned, shaking her head. *And I'm so gonna enjoy teaching you!*
More to come. Once again, I must extend my sincerest gratitude to all of you who took the time to leave me feedback. If you haven't figured it out by now, I've got to tell you that I'm a feedback whore! So, please, keep it coming! *Spoiler Alert!* All of you Danny Woo and Gabriel Bowman fans will be in seventh heaven soon! (With an emphasis on soon! :)) dragongrrl
Disclaimer: Same as the preceding chapters.
Author's Note: I must apologize for the inexcusably long delay between chapters. To be honest, I was more than a little intimidated by the prospect of having to write an action sequence, and kept putting it off! Hopefully, I didn't embarrass myself! Enjoy!
Chapter 62.
Just before the transport rounded the corner of the last turnoff, the Witchblade flared bright in warning, and Sara received a brief vision of a dozen heavily armed, body-armor-clad men blocking their exit to the surface.
*Hold up, Ian! We've got company down here!* Sara warned Nottingham. *I counted 12 men.*
*No surprise there,* he murmured, slowing the transport to a halt. *Please wait here for a moment, my Lady,* he requested, hopping out. After a quick look around the corner showed that about 30 yards separated them, Ian boldly strode into plain sight of the assembled men.
"Lieutenant Hopkins," he acknowledged, instantly recognizing the former Navy Seal. 'A wise choice as my replacement,' he thought to himself. 'Hopkins is an experienced soldier with natural leadership ability whose military records show that's he's calm under pressure, which is why I recommended that he be put in charge of the estate's security in my absence. Obviously, father took my advice.'
"Mr. Nottingham," the man replied, nodding. "I don't suppose you'd consider surrendering without a fight and willingly returning to the estate?" he asked hopefully.
Sara saw the corners of Ian's lips curl upward briefly in one of his famous almost-smiles. "I am afraid not, Lieutenant."
The other man nodded again. "I didn't think so, but it couldn't hurt to ask." He shrugged. "I guess we're gonna have to do this the hard way then."
Now Ian inclined his head. "It would appear so. You should know that I have no wish to kill you or your men, but I will if I have to."
"And we don't want to use deadly force against you if we can avoid it," the lieutenant responded, "but we have our orders." Truth be told, Graham Hopkins badly wanted to avoid having to fight Ian Nottingham if at all possible. The man's lethal reputation preceded him, and despite his claim to the contrary, Hopkins was not at all certain the 11 men he commanded would be enough to defeat the assassin. If he'd had his druthers, Hopkins would have brought twice as many men with him, but there had been numerous casualties during the battle with the Russians, and the ranks had been spread even thinner by Irons' insistence that three teams be sent out into the field in a vain attempt to track down and recapture Nottingham.
'Where's the woman?' Graham thought to himself. 'Irons said Nottingham would have Detective Sara Pezzini with him.' The billionaire had also reluctantly admitted that his personal bodyguard and head of security had gone A.W.O.L., explaining that Nottingham had become infatuated with the beautiful homicide detective and that this infatuation had clouded his judgment, leading him to abandon his duties. Privately, Graham had found this extremely hard to believe. He'd had almost no interaction with Ian Nottingham since being hired by Vorschlag Industries a little over a year ago, but from the few encounters he had had, he'd gotten the distinct impression that the man was not the least bit interested in the female of the species. In fact, speculation ran rampant among the estate staff about the nature of the relationship between Kenneth Irons and his extremely intimidating and mysterious head of security. Whispered rumors suggested that it was much, much closer than simply employer and employee. So, when Mr. Irons had told him the reason why the assassin had disappeared, Graham had been highly skeptical about the veracity of the story, although he'd been careful not to let this show.
However, his employer had gone on to explain that Detective Pezzini had in her possession something that belonged to him, an ancient artifact that he wanted back at any cost, even if it meant having to kill her to retrieve it. The former Navy Seal had been unable to hide his uneasiness at the thought of murdering a New York City homicide detective, but Irons had promised him that there would be no repercussions for him or his men if it came to that. He'd claimed that Sara Pezzini was a dirty cop who had stolen the priceless artifact -- a silver bracelet set with a large red stone -- from the museum where it had been on loan. The billionaire had told Hopkins that she wore the bracelet on her right wrist, and had stressed that it and the woman, dead or alive, were to be brought to him once Nottingham had been defeated.
"You're outnumbered and out-armed, Nottingham," Graham tried reasoning with his predecessor as a last resort. "Surely, you realize that."
"If it were just me that you and your men were dealing with I might have to concede that fact, Lieutenant Hopkins," Ian admitted. "However, I am not alone."
Sara took this as her cue. Climbing out of the transport, she casually strolled to Ian's side.
"Hello, boys," she purred. "Can I play, too?"
"Detective Pezzini," Lieutenant Hopkins acknowledged her. "You have something that belongs to my employer. My orders are to return to the estate with you and Mr. Nottingham. Preferably alive."
"Thanks for the gracious invite, but no thanks," Sara declined. "We'll just be leaving now."
Hopkins shook his head. "I'm sorry, Detective, but I can't just let the two of you walk out of here."
"Okay, but just to be fair, I gotta warn you that this thing doesn't have a stun setting," Sara informed him, holding up her right arm and pushing back her sleeve to reveal that the bracelet Irons had described graced her wrist. "And once It gets a taste of blood, It tends to go berserk, taking me along for the ride."
Puzzlement must have shown on the faces of Hopkins and his men because she and Nottingham exchanged meaningful looks, and then Detective Pezzini said, "Why am I not surprised that your shithead of a boss left out a few very important details about me and my pretty bracelet, Lieutenant?"
"Like what?" Hopkins queried cautiously, suddenly getting a very bad feeling about the whole situation.
"Like the fact that this is no ordinary bracelet and I'm no ordinary woman. It's an ancient, sentient weapon of mass destruction called the Witchblade, and I'm Its Wielder." As if sensing the impending violence, the Witchblade suddenly transformed into an armored gauntlet that bristled with nasty-looking spikes, and gleaming silver metal rapidly expanded to cover Sara's arm to the shoulder. "Still wanna rumble?" she smirked.
Several of Hopkins' men shot each other nervous looks, but their leader refused to back down. "I have my orders, Detective," he said resolutely. He nodded toward one of his men, and abruptly a strobe light was activated. To his credit, the young commanding officer didn't show a hint of dismay when the light had no effect whatsoever on Nottingham.
"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you," Sara shrugged. "Now, who wants to get their ass kicked first?"
Then she froze as a brief vision assailed her. *They've gotten the elevator you disabled working again,* she informed Ian telepathically moments later. *Two backup teams are hot on our trail, moving at double time, which means they'll probably be here in less than 15 minutes. We better get a move on.*
*Let's do this,* Ian replied.
In the blink of an eye, Sara's entire body was covered in armor. "Ladies first!" she yelled, and charged down the corridor.
At Hopkins' signal, his men opened fire, first with tranquilizer darts, but when those bounced harmlessly off Sara's armor, they began firing bullets, most of which she deflected with astonishing speed and ease. Those that eluded her metal-clad hands and arms ricocheted off her back at the shooters, forcing them to stop firing. Seconds later, she was among them, and one by one, men started falling. None of them got back up.
Sara targeted the soldier that had the misfortune to be holding the strobe light, knocking it from his hand before rendering him unconscious with a single blow to his helmeted head. The light shattered on the floor and stopped flashing. Dimly, she was aware that her Protector had yet to join the battle, and she felt a surge of satisfaction that he so obviously believed she could handle herself. His pride in her was palpable, and it warmed her even as the Witchblade-induced bloodlust reared its ugly head.
Ian deliberately hung back for a couple of minutes so that he could observe the Wielder in action. She was magnificent in her gleaming metal armor, although she moved so fast, even his eyes had difficulty following her. Her natural fighting ability already made her a formidable foe, but when combined with Witchblade-enhanced speed, strength, and agility, she truly was a sight to behold as she cut through the phalanx of soldiers like a hot knife through butter. With a thrill of excitement, he realized that once she received formal training on how to expertly wield the ancient weapon's myriad forms, she would be damn near invincible. Ian clearly sensed the bloodlust rising in her, but was glad to see that she was thus far using restraint in besting her opponents, disabling rather than killing them as she so very easily could have. These young men didn't deserve to die; they were just following orders, and thanks to his father, were wholly unprepared for the savagery of a True Wielder. Then Ian heard Hopkins order his men to regroup for one last assault, and he decided that it was time for him to join the battle.
*Thanks for softening them up for me, my Love,* Ian sent to Sara, *but I think I can take it from here.*
Somehow, the familiar sound of her Protector's "voice" in her head enabled Sara to rein in the berserker rage that had been threatening to consume her, and now it was her turn to admire his fighting prowess. She turned her head to watch as Nottingham took on the remaining men, the hapless soldier that she held pinned against the wall by the throat forgotten.
Moving with inhuman speed and a predator's deadly grace, the former assassin used a combination of martial arts moves and sheer strength to subdue his foes. Although expertly trained in hand-to-hand combat, the men were simply no match for him. He wasn't even breathing hard when the last of his opponents succumbed to a zap from the taser in his gloved hand.
That left Lieutenant Graham Hopkins as the last man standing -- just barely. He was reeling from a vicious backhand blow to the face by a metal- encased hand, and blood was streaming from his nose, which in all likelihood was broken. It certainly felt like it was.
Carelessly, Sara dropped the now unconscious man she'd been throttling and turned to face the lieutenant. "The situation isn't looking too good for you, Lieutenant Hopkins," she murmured, glancing around at his fallen comrades. She couldn't tell for sure, but she thought most of them were merely unconscious rather than dead, much to her relief. But they definitely weren't going to be happy campers when and if they eventually came to. The sound of breaking bones coupled with screams of agony had echoed through the tunnel with resounding clarity throughout the skirmish. Now only a few groans and muffled whimpers of pain could be heard. "Kenny's gonna be mighty disappointed in you."
"I can make this quick and relatively painless," Ian told Hopkins, holding up the taser. "It is up to you."
"Take your best shot," the former Navy Seal said defiantly, assuming a rather wobbly battle stance. He shook his head in an obvious attempt to clear it, sending droplets of blood flying.
"Oh, for Christ's sake! We don't have time for this macho bullshit," Sara growled, aware that they were expecting company any minute. She pointed her gauntleted right hand at him, and suddenly Hopkins stiffened, glazed eyes widening in a transfixed stare.
"Interesting," Ian commented. He glided closer to the enthralled man and placed the taser against his neck. There was an audible "Zzzzt!," and Hopkins dropped to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
"Well, that's a new one," Sara murmured, eyeing her metal-encased hand askance. "I guess It does have a stun setting after all. Who knew?" Abruptly, the Witchblade returned to Its deceptively innocuous bracelet form, Its prodigious appetite for violence whetted for the moment.
"Shall we?" Ian said, gesturing toward the waiting elevator.
"Gladly," Sara breathed, stepping over the slew of motionless bodies without a backward glance.
"You did very well, my Lady," Ian complimented her once the elevator doors had closed and the car began its ascent, "as I knew you would."
"You're no slouch yourself, Cowboy," Sara grinned. She eyed his long, lean body hungrily. "I'm suddenly so horny, it's not even funny!" she blurted out.
Startled hazel eyes met hers. "I believe it is the after effects of the bloodlust," he muttered, feeling his body begin to respond to the heat in her smoldering green gaze. "A massive amount of endorphins are flooding your brain at the moment."
Sara shook her head. "Uh-unh. It's you, lover. Seeing you in action made me wanna --"
"Move to the side, Sara," Ian reluctantly interrupted her, mindful of the fact that they were not yet in the clear. "There may be an ambush waiting for us up here." As the elevator slowed perceptibly, he unhooked a flash grenade from his weapons harness. Moments later, the car came to a stop and the inner doors parted to reveal the vault-like outer door.
"Cover your eyes," he cautioned, keying the security code into the keypad in the center of the door. He pulled the grenade's pin as the heavy door slowly began to swing open, and then tossed the explosive device through the still-narrow opening. Seconds later, it detonated with a concussive "WHOMP!" and a blinding flash of light, and then Ian dove through the doorway.
After a minute, when Sara didn't hear any gunfire or shouts, she cautiously poked her head around the side of the elevator just as her Protector reappeared.
"The basement is all clear," he told her, reentering the elevator. He pried open the control panel and detached some wires, disabling the car. "How close are the mobile teams?"
"You tell me," Sara said, extracting the handheld device from her coat pocket and handing it to him. "You're way more familiar with the routes leading here than I am."
Ian glanced at the grids. "We do not have much time. Let us hope there are not more men upstairs," he murmured, heading for the stairs. "Please wait down here until I give the all clear, my Lady."
"Um, the Witchblade isn't going off, so I think we're okay," she ventured, following him.
"Humor me," he said. "Please?"
Sara sighed. "Okay."
He ascended the steps and keyed in the door's security code. She blinked as one moment he was standing at the top of the stairs and then in the next he was gone. Two minutes later, he sent *The place is deserted. Let's leave before the field operatives show up, which could be any minute now. Luckily, nobody thought to disable our vehicle.*
*Here I come!* Sara replied, sprinting up the stairs. The lock clicked as she reached the top of the stairs, and Ian pulled the door open. She took a moment to once again admire the elegant lines and spacious dimensions of the gorgeous house as she followed Ian out to the garage and the idling SUV.
Several tense minutes passed before they had traveled what felt like a safe distance from the neighborhood and were convinced that they hadn't been followed. Still, neither of them relaxed until they reached the I-95 and began heading toward the city.
Sara turned toward Ian. "Although what I'd really like to do is tear your clothes off and have my way with you, I'm gonna call Danny," she informed him. "I've gotta come clean to him about the Witchblade and us, and there's no time like the present."
Ian smiled at her candor and then nodded. "Agreed." Briefly taking his eyes off the road, he met her gaze. "And me, too," he added huskily.
Taking out her cell phone, Sara dialed her partner's home phone before she could lose her nerve.
"Woo residence," Danny answered on the second ring.
"Hey, Danny, it's me, Pez."
"Hey, Partner. How's it going? You enjoying your days off?"
"Hell yeah. How 'bout you?"
"Well, to tell you the truth," he lowered his voice, "it was fun being snowed in for the first couple of days, but we're all starting to get a touch of cabin fever. To make matters worse, the weatherman is saying we might get another foot of snow tonight."
"Yeah, I heard that, too," Sara said, leaning forward in her seat to peer up at the sky through the windshield. The day had started out bright and sunny, but it had become overcast while she and Ian had been underground. "Listen, Danny, do you think Lee would mind if I swung by and took you out to lunch? I need to talk to you about something really important."
"Hold on a minute, and I'll go ask her." She heard him put the phone down.
"He's asking the missus if he can come out and play," Sara informed Ian, who nodded.
"Pez?" Danny came back on the line.
"Yeah, I'm still here."
"She said it's okay. Una will be napping by then and Mija is getting ready to head over to a friend's house up the block, so Lee will have some alone time, which I know she'll enjoy," he said a touch ruefully.
"Great, we--, uh, I'll pick you up in about an hour and a half."
"So, are we gonna take public transportation or what?" Danny queried, thankfully letting her slip of the tongue go unchallenged, "'cause I haven't dug the car out yet."
"Um, no. I've, uh, borrowed a friend's car," she fibbed.
There was a slight pause. "Uh-hunh. Well, I'll see you in a little while, Pez," her partner said. "Bye."
"Bye, Danny." She put the phone back in her pocket and then looked at her Protector's profile. "First, I'm gonna tell him about the Witchblade, and then I'm gonna tell him about us." She hesitated. "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be there when we finally get around to discussing your past."
"Agreed," Ian murmured. "However, may I suggest that you have this discussion in private? It would not do for your conversation to be overheard."
"Yeah, you're right. As you know, Danny doesn't live that far from me. We'll get takeout and bring it back to my place."
"You can drop me off at your loft so that I can make certain it is safe for you to return there, then you can go get Detective Woo. I will wait in the alley for you to return. Leave the car keys in your mailbox. I will retrieve them once you and your partner have gone upstairs," Ian told her.
"Our talk will probably take a while," Sara pointed out. "What will you do in the meantime?"
He cocked his head thoughtfully but didn't take his eyes off the road. "Perhaps I will go visit Gabriel," he said. "Do you think he would mind?"
"Why don't you call him and see if he's busy?"
"Perhaps I will do that."
They rode in silence for a while.
"Ian," Sara said hesitantly, "you're gonna return to the estate tonight, aren't you?"
He nodded, glancing at her. "Yes, Sara, I am."
"I don't want you to go," she whispered.
"And I do not want to leave you," he told her. "But just as you must confront your partner with the truth, I must do the same with my father. The sooner I begin the process of winning my freedom from him, the sooner we can be together again, this time for good."
"If he lays one finger on you, I'm gonna beat the crap outta him, so help me God," Sara said fiercely.
"I promised you that I will not allow him to beat me again, Sara, and I meant it," Ian reiterated. "So, you do not have to worry about me on that account."
She hunched one shoulder. "I'll always worry about you, my love," she admitted softly, "especially where Kenny's concerned. I wouldn't put it past him to try to kill you once he realizes that you're eventually gonna leave him to be with me. And I'm convinced that even if Joe's plan works like a charm, he'll never stop interfering with our lives."
Ian sighed. "Unfortunately, that is a distinct possibility. He is obsessed with controlling the Witchblade, and will be until the day he dies."
"Which, at this rate, might be never!" Sara said unhappily. "If you do end up hanging with Gabriel, maybe you wouldn't mind asking him his opinion on why the Witchblade apparently wants your father to stay in the picture," she suggested. "Gabe's pretty well versed on Witchblade lore, so he might be able to come up with a theory about Irons' role in the scheme of things."
"Yes, I had noticed that about him," Ian murmured thoughtfully.
A sudden realization struck Sara. 'Well, I'll be! Gabriel must be who Boudica was referring to when she mentioned somebody called the Mythkeeper in that vision I had yesterday. She said that I already know him well and that I trust him implicitly and have ever since the day I met him. Gabriel fits that description to a tee,' she mused to herself.
"Why are you smiling, my love?" Ian queried, catching the flash of white teeth out of the corner of his eye.
"Hmmm? Oh, I just had an epiphany about Gabriel," she said, finally giving in to the urge to touch him. Reaching over, she tucked a strand of soft, dark hair behind his ear. Several had managed to escape restraint during the battle and now curled fetchingly around his face. She quivered in lightning-quick response when he captured her hand in his and pressed warm lips to her fingertips.
"What sort of epiphany?" he asked, entwining her fingers with his.
"Yesterday, when I asked the Witchblade for permission to tell my friends and family about It and me being Its Wielder, a woman who called herself Boudica appeared in my vision," Sara told him. "She claimed to have once been a True Wielder a long time ago. I was curious about who she'd been, so I asked her what her story was, but she told me to ask somebody called the Mythkeeper about her. She said I already knew and trusted this person, which, of course, narrowed the field down considerably," she said wryly. "I just now realized that she must have meant Gabriel."
Ian nodded. "I am familiar with the legend of the Mythkeeper," he informed her. "Although my father never referred to Gabriel by that title, I am fairly certain he had already identified him as such. I believe that is why he felt it was necessary to send me to attempt to intimidate him into no longer supplying you with information about the Witchblade."
"Yeah, it doesn't surprise me that Kenny wants to be the only one doling out info. He really is a raging control freak, isn't he?"
"You have no idea," Ian said grimly.
"No, but I'm beginning to get one, and it's not a pretty picture." She untangled her fingers from his and massaged his right temple soothingly. "How's your headache?"
"Better. And I am happy to report that my shoulder did not give me any problems while I was fighting."
"I'm glad to hear that. Did I mention how freaking unbelievable you are as a fighter, Ian? I'm pretty sure those poor bastards wouldn't have stood a chance even if I hadn't softened them up for you. You gotta teach me some of your moves."
"I would be glad to. You already possess great reflexes and abundant natural fighting ability, my Lady, but once you truly learn how to fight with the Witchblade, you will become virtually unbeatable."
"Then what do I need a Protector for?" she teased him, tugging on his earlobe.
"Wild monkey sex?" he hazarded, straight-faced.
Sara laughed. "You got that right!" Then she sobered. "God, I'm gonna miss waking up in your arms," she said softly.
"And I can hardly bear the thought of being apart from you," Ian whispered, grasping her hand and holding it against his heart. *In fact, the only thing that will make it bearable is our ability to communicate with each other like this,* he sent.
*Oh, yeah, that's right! Hey, I just had a fantastic idea!* she said excitedly. *We can have telepathic sex! It'll sorta be like phone sex, but waaaay better!*
*'Phone sex'?* Ian queried, glancing at her curiously. *Sounds . . . intriguing.*
*Oh, you have so very much to learn, young Jedi,* Sara grinned, shaking her head. *And I'm so gonna enjoy teaching you!*
More to come. Once again, I must extend my sincerest gratitude to all of you who took the time to leave me feedback. If you haven't figured it out by now, I've got to tell you that I'm a feedback whore! So, please, keep it coming! *Spoiler Alert!* All of you Danny Woo and Gabriel Bowman fans will be in seventh heaven soon! (With an emphasis on soon! :)) dragongrrl