Dead Ink(Karma Series Book 4)(22)

But he couldn't quiet down this pesky urge he had to protect her. He  walked around the desk and hovered over her but he didn't make another  move to take the box.

She didn't seem to notice or care where he was; as all of her attention  focused on the package. Scissors in hand, she cut the rest of the taped  seams and the top of the cardboard box flapped open. A folded note,  which she withdrew, lay on top.



I really wish you'd reconsider.



Keith



A ring box lay below. Keith had sent her jewelry? She lifted the box out  of the tissue paper padding and flipped open the top. Lars barely got a  glance at the ring inside before it fell from her hands with a gasp.

He knew it was a man's. He smelled the dried blood it was coated in. It  had belonged to a healthy male in his twenties, suspiciously like the  blood on Cutty's guest room ceiling.

He quickly grabbed a pen from his desk and used it to pick up the fallen  ring, having no desire to touch it. It was a college class ring. He  slid it into the box that had also dropped to the ground and closed the  lid.

"Faith?" After the initial gasp, she'd fallen silent and completely  still. He lowered himself until he was sitting back on his heels and  could get a better look at her face. All the color had drained from her  cheeks, and her eyes didn't look right, as if they weren't focused and  she were somewhere else right now.

"Faith?" he repeated, softer this time.

Her eyes, shifted to his with a crazed look. "I need my phone."

"Whose ring was that?" he asked.

"I need my phone," she repeated, as if she hadn't heard his question. Her voice had a strained quality.

"Stay here. I'll get it." He went into the other room and dug the phone  the guys had gotten her out of her purse and brought it back.

He thought she was going to try and call someone but instead she was  trying to search the Internet on it. He had a computer in the office but  it was stored in the cabinet, gathering dust, and she probably didn't  realize it was there.                       
       
           



       

He watched as she tried to type. Her fingers would hit a few letters  that didn't form anything coherent before erasing them. She did this  repeatedly before he decided he had to step in.

"Let me," Lars said, slowly easing the phone from her hands. "What are you trying to type?"

"Arthur Dover."

Same last name but, according to her, she'd never been married. He  walked a few feet away from where she was sitting, thinking it was best  if he could try and skim whatever information he found first. He didn't  need to be a genius to put the ring to the name and know that if  something came up, it was going to be bad.

He didn't get far. She stood and followed him across the small expanse  of the room, grabbing his wrist to keep the phone where she could see.  Her hand, ice cold and shaking as it was, locked down on him like an  iron vise.

He typed the name in as she stood, looking over his arm. News articles  about a man mutilated and killed flashed across the small screen,  complete with images.

His thumb went to close it but stopped when she barked out the word, "No."

He angled it toward her. Whatever had happened, she had a right to know.

Her eyes scanned the screen but she didn't make any attempt to take it  from him. She just read it, her grip on his arm getting weaker until her  hand finally dropped to her side. She took a step backward and she  collided with the wall, and then slid down it. She ended up sitting on  the ground, the sheetrock being the only thing keeping her upright. But  her face looked like she'd slid all the way to the depths of Hell.

He quickly scanned the phone for more information. The police had no  suspects and there had been no known enemies. They'd determined he'd  been kidnapped by one of the gangs that had popped up everywhere.

"Who was this to you?" he asked her.

"My brother." She reached out a hand for the phone. He shut down the  screen and then gave it to her. She didn't look at it but grasped it in a  firm grip as she held it to her chest. A few tears escaped her watery  eyes to trail down her cheeks.

When he'd met her, she'd looked like she'd been through hell. He'd  scared the crap out of her that first afternoon she'd shown up here.  Then the guys had come and piled on as well. Couple nights later, she'd  woken to blood dripping on her from above. But she hadn't looked broken  until now.

He'd never consoled a crying woman before, not in all his years, and it  wasn't from lack of opportunity. When they fell apart at the seams, he  walked away and sent one of the other guys to deal with them. Or he just  walked away and left them alone. But he always walked.

And now, after too many years to count, he wasn't heading toward the  door ready to jump ship. It wasn't that the instinct had disappeared or  that the response to a situation like this, engrained in him after so  long, didn't swell up. He looked at the door but his stupid feet  wouldn't move.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled down to Cutty's  number. He hit dial but, for no reason he understood, hung up after the  first ring.

He stared down at her. The tears had stopped but there seemed to be  puddles forming along the edges of her eyelids, just waiting for further  provocation to spill over.

He was frozen. He wanted to leave. He really did. So why wasn't his body moving?

His phone rang where it still sat in his hand. He answered without looking. "Yeah?"

"I'm with Bic looking for him now. Everything okay there?" Cutty asked.

"I'll explain when I see you," Lars said, not wanting to repeat anything in earshot of Faith.

"Then why did you call?" Cutty asked.

He looked at her sitting there; deep sorrow clung to every line of her form. "It was a mistake."

"Like last time? Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Fuck her already. I can't deal with your head all messed up. Not right now."

Lars hung up on Cutty, not wanting to hear his shit. His head wasn't messed up.

He pocketed his phone as he watched her. He wanted to comfort her and he didn't know the first damn thing about how to do it.

He looked around, trying to figure out a plan. He could handle this. He  should probably get her off the floor first. In all the movies he'd  seen, they never left them sitting on the floor.

He felt her stiffen as his hand grabbed her wrist but it didn't matter.  He needed to get her up so he could move on to the next part of what  he'd seen them do. He tugged her upward and across the room until he got  to his desk chair in the office. He sat and then tugged her roughly  down onto his lap where he proceeded to wrap both arms around her.                       
       
           



       

"What are you doing?" She tried to shove off his chest. He wrapped  around her firmly, knowing the squirming could lead to an altogether  different type of physical comfort. She didn't seem to be appreciating  his efforts but he was confident he was doing it right.

The urge to use some of his old talents swelled. She needed it. It was the only way he knew he could calm her down.

He could feel the misery coming off of her and, for the first time since  near forever, he gave into the urges. He let the ability stir within  and build until his voice was calm with an eerie quality to it. The  power of that voice was addictive. It was a voice he hadn't used since  he'd retired. It was the voice he once used to calm the humans who  didn't want to die. It felt achingly familiar to his tongue, leaving a  sweet warm flavor in its wake.





Chapter 20





Lars tucked her in to his body until she felt surrounded by him. She  didn't have the energy to keep fighting. She wasn't sure exactly what  Lars was trying to do but it didn't matter. All her energy was being  sapped by the image of Arthur, dead and mutilated.

"It wasn't your fault," he said.

"He was my brother, and now he's dead because he was related to me." She  hated crying. Always had. She resented the unwanted tears that  sporadically escaped and drifted down. She ran her sleeve across her  face, eliminating the evidence, only to have to do it again and again.  Then they were picking up steam and her body started to shudder.

Through her crying she heard Lars whisper strange words that were  lyrical in nature and a language she'd never heard. The tension and  fright she'd felt constantly over the last two weeks, culminating at  this moment, seemed to be easing from her. Her body felt heavier and she  relaxed into him, letting her head completely rest in the crook of his  neck. She breathed in his clean scent. He was so warm and she felt so  cold.

"That's it, just relax." His voice was soothing as his hand ran over her  hair repeatedly and then trailed down her spine, pulling her in closer  to him as it did.