The Belial Stone(42)

He stared at the sun as it slipped past the mountain peaks. The sky glowed orange, with strains of pink streaking through. There can be beauty here, he thought. As the last lights disappeared, though, so too did his wonder.

He couldn’t believe Paul was gone. They’d met two decades ago. They’d come across one another in an airport, the international terminal at JFK. That sense of connection was instantaneous. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed that link

It had been harder and harder to find his brothers as time passed. The world got larger and chance meetings became increasingly difficult. Before Paul, it had been three long lifetimes since he’d found a brother. And now, he was alone again.

Turning from the darkness, he strode back into the living room. He looked around, his mind barely registering the stone-faced fireplace or sleek contemporary furnishings. Instead, he pictured Paul’s body as that red-headed bitch shot him. He curled his fists, wanting to lash out. He should have finished her when he had the chance. She needed to pay…painfully.

But you didn’t make her pay, did you?

He crushed the voice down. Her eyes seemed to follow him day and night. They mocked him. They knew the truth. He pictured her sitting in that car, full of courage and determination, her eyes locked on him. And he had felt it… Fear.

For the first time in generations, she had made him afraid. And he had run.

It had taken him thirty minutes to fully heal. He cringed as he thought of himself, curled up, cowering like a wounded animal. She had made him afraid. By the time he’d returned, she was gone. It had taken some time, but thanks to the Senator’s contacts, he found out she’d gone to Chandler Headquarters in Baltimore.

“Chandler,” he whispered. Another wrinkle. Chandler’s involvement upped the risk. He wondered how much Henry knew. Had his mother ever told him the truth?

He needed to move faster. He couldn't let fear hold him back. But he also couldn’t let his need to defy that fear push him to make an unwise decision. Caution. He needed to move with caution. He reached over and pulled his phone off the ottoman.

He dialed. A voice answered, the Russian accent pronounced. “Yes?”

“Old friend, I am in need of your services, and that of some of your friends.”





CHAPTER 30



Baltimore, MD



The golf cart glided silently through the winding, flower-lined path that led to Sharecroppers Lane. Laney once again sat in the back, with Jake behind the wheel, while her uncle rode shotgun.

She and Jake had explained the M.E.’s findings to her uncle, Danny, and Henry before they’d headed off on their trip. Her uncle had been quiet and distracted ever since. She’d tried to get him to talk about his ideas on Paul and his companion, but his stubbornness had once again reared its ugly head.

Her mind was full of Drew, Tom, ancient civilizations, and superhumans. She felt like she was trying to force together the pieces of four very different puzzles.

Looking for a distraction, she watched Danny and Henry in the golf cart behind them. Henry let Danny drive and patiently corrected him whenever he veered off course or braked too sharply. No matter how jolting the stop, Henry never lost his cool. She smiled. Danny might have had a rough time early in his life, but it looked like Henry was doing everything in his power to make the rest better. Who would have thought a world-famous intellectual’s most admirable quality would be his kindness?

Her attention was pulled back to her uncle and Jake. Her uncle had shaken himself from his silent thoughts. She half-listened to him interrogate Jake on his military experience. Occasionally, she glanced over her shoulder and, catching Jake’s eyes in the rearview mirror, gained a good-natured smile.

Jake seemed to be taking everything in stride, but she had a feeling there were a lot of emotions bubbling right under his surface. She wished she could do more to help him. She was at loss, though, as to what she could do. At least, until she realized what her uncle had just asked him.

“Okay, Uncle Patrick,” Laney interrupted. “I think Jake’s already proven he’s more than qualified for his current job. Why don’t you give him a break?”

“What?” Patrick’s eyes were full of innocence. “I’m just making small talk.”

“Uncle Patrick, you just asked the man to list the weapons he’d want if ambushed by a small rebel force in a third-world country. I think you’ve officially moved beyond ’small talk.’”

He had the good sense to look abashed. “Just checking on the man we’ve entrusted with our safety.”

“We’re at the end of the line, anyway.” Jake pulled into a parking spot at the end of Sharecroppers Lane.