Dark Guardian (Dark Series - book 9) Read online

  *****

  Jaxon, her fifteenth birthday

  Sitting in science class, she suddenly knew. She felt it, an overwhelming premonition of danger. She remembered gasping for breath, her lungs refusing to work. Jaxon ran from the classroom, knocking her books and papers from her desk so that they scattered on the floor behind her. The teacher called to her, but Jaxon ignored him and continued running. The wind seemed to rush past her as she sped down the streets, taking every shortcut she knew.

  As she neared the house, Jaxon slowed abruptly, her heart pounding. The front door was gaping open, an invitation to enter. At once darkness took hold of her mind. She felt a sharp demand to stop, to turn back, the premonition so strong it held her frozen for a moment. Mathew had stayed home sick from school. Little Mathew, who looked so like her father, who could send Tyler into a killing fury so easily. Her Mathew.

  Her mouth was dry, and the taste of fear was so strong she was afraid she was going to be sick. Her stomach clenched, and the pounding in her head increased until it nearly drowned out the overwhelming urge for self-preservation. Jaxon forced her right foot forward. One step. It was difficult, like walking through quicksand. She had to look inside the house. She had to do it. The pull to do so was stronger than the instinct for survival. A smell was flowing out to her, an odor foreign to her, yet every instinct she possessed told her what it was. “Mom?” She whispered the word aloud, a talisman to make her world right again, to drive away the truth and knowledge that was pounding in her head.

  The only way she could force her body to move was to hold the side of the house and inch her way painfully forward. She was fighting her own instincts, fighting the reluctance to face what was in there. Keeping one hand pressed firmly against her mouth to keep from screaming, she turned her head slowly to allow her eyes to see into the house.

  The living room looked the same as ever. Familiar. Comforting. But that did nothing to stop the fear. Instead, she felt terrified. Jaxon forced herself forward to the hallway. She saw a smear of bright red blood on the door-jamb to Mathew’s room. Her heart began to beat so hard she was afraid it might pound right through her chest. Jaxon edged her way along the wall until she was right outside Mathew’s room. She prayed fervently as with one finger she slowly pushed open his door.

  The horror of that sight would be imprinted on her brain for all time. The walls were sprayed with blood, the covers soaked with it. Mathew lay sprawled sideways on the bed, his head hanging off the mattress at a right angle. His eye sockets were empty, his once laughing eyes gone forever. She couldn’t count the stab wounds on his body. Jaxon did not go into the room. She couldn’t. Something far more powerful than her will was stopping her. For a moment she couldn’t stand, sliding unexpectedly to the floor in a huddled heap, a silent scream tearing through her body in absolute denial.

  She hadn’t been there to defend him. To save him. It was her responsibility. She was the strong one, yet she had failed, and Mathew, with his shining curls and his love of life, had paid the ultimate price. Jaxon didn’t want to move, didn’t think she could. But then her mind seemed to go mercifully blank, and she was able to drag herself back up the wall and proceed down the hall to her mother’s bedroom. She already knew what she would find. She told herself she was prepared.

  This time the door was wide open. Jaxon forced herself to look in. Rebecca lay crumpled on the floor. She knew it was her mother by the mop of blond hair that spilled out like a halo around the crushed head. The rest of her was too mangled and bloody for recognition. Jaxon couldn’t pull her gaze away. Her throat was closing, strangling her. She couldn’t breathe.

  She heard a sound. The hint of a sound really, but it was enough to trigger her years of training. She leaped to one side, whirling to face her stepfather. His hands and arms were wet with blood, his shirt splattered and stained. He was smiling, his face serene, his eyes warm with welcome.

  “They’re gone now, honey. We won’t ever have to listen to their whining again.” Tyler held out a hand to her, clearly expecting her to take it.

  Jaxon backed a cautious step down the hall. She didn’t want to alarm Tyler. He didn’t seem to notice he had blood all over him. “I’m supposed to be in school, Uncle Tyler.” Her voice didn’t sound natural even to her own ears.

  A sudden scowl crossed his face. “You haven’t called me Uncle Tyler since you were eight years old. What happened to Daddy? Your mother turned you against me, didn’t she?” He was moving toward her.

  Jaxon stayed very quiet, very still, a look of innocence on her face. “No one could ever turn me against you. That would be impossible. And you know Mom doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  Tyler relaxed visibly. He was close enough to touch her. Jaxon couldn’t allow that; her tremendous self-discipline would not extend far enough to let him touch her with the blood of her family on his hands. She struck without warning, jabbing a fist straight into his throat, kicking his kneecap hard. The moment she connected, Jaxon turned and ran. She didn’t look back once. She didn’t dare. Tyler was trained to respond despite being injured. In any case, she was very small compared to her stepfather. Her blows might stun him but would never incapacitate him completely. With luck her kick might have broken his knee, but she doubted it. Jaxon ran through the house and straight out the door. Rebecca had always liked the protection of living on the naval base, and Jaxon was grateful now. She screamed at the top of her lungs, running straight across the street to Russell Andrews’s house.

  Russell’s wife, Bernice, rushed out to meet her, distress on her face. “What is it, dear? Are you hurt?”

  Russell joined them, circling Jaxon’s slender shoulders with one arm. “Is your mother ill?” He knew better; he knew Jaxon. She was always a child in complete control, calm under fire, always thinking. If Rebecca were ill, Jaxon would have called for medical aid. Right now her face was so pale, she looked like a ghost. There was horror in her eyes, terror in her expression. Russell glanced across the street at the silent house with its door wide open. The wind was blowing, the air crisp and cold. For some unknown reason, the house gave him the creeps.

  Russell started across the street. Jaxon caught his arm. “No, Uncle Russell, not by yourself. You can’t save them. They’re already dead. Call the MPs.” .

  “Who’s dead, Jaxon?” Russell asked quietly, knowing Jaxon wouldn’t lie.

  “Mathew and my mother. Tyler killed them. He told Mom he killed my father, too. He’s been so strange and violent lately. He hated Mother and Mathew. I tried to tell you, but none of you would believe me.” Jaxon was sobbing, her hands over her face. “You wouldn’t listen to me. None of you would listen.” She felt so sick, her stomach rebelling, her mind replaying the scenes she’d just seen until she thought she might go insane. “There was so much blood. He gouged out Mathew’s eyes. Why would he do that? Mathew was only a little boy.”

  Russell pushed her toward Bernice. “See to her, honey. She’s going into shock.”

  “He killed everyone, my entire family. He took everyone away from me. I didn’t save them,” Jaxon said softly. Bernice hugged her tightly. “Don’t worry, Jaxon, you’re with us.”

  *****

  Jaxon, Seventeen years old

  “Hey, beautiful.” Don Jacobson leaned down to ruffle Jaxon’s mop of wild blond hair. He tried not to act too possessive. Jaxon always shot down anyone who tried to get close to her. She had a wall erected so high around her, no one seemed to be able to break into her world. Since the death of her family, Don had seen her laugh only with Bernice and Russell Andrews and their daughter, Sabrina. Sabrina was two years older than Jaxon and home for spring break. “Where you off to in such a hurry? Master-Chief told me your times were better than his new recruits.’”

  Jaxon smiled rather absently. “My times are always better than his new recruits’ every time he gets a new group. I’ve been in training my entire life. I’d better be good, or Master-Chief would have thrown me out a long t
ime ago. Too bad women can’t serve in the SEAL. It’s the only thing I’m suited for. I graduated early with so many college credits, and now I have no idea what I want to do.” She shoved a hand carelessly through her hair, tousling it even more. “I’m younger than most of the other students, but, to tell you the truth, I feel so much older than most of them, sometimes I want to scream.”

  Don had a burning desire to hold her close, to comfort her. “You’ve always been smart, Jaxx. Don’t let anyone get to you.” He knew her distress was really because she couldn’t get over the trauma of what had happened to her family. How could she? He doubted if anyone could. “So, where are you running off to?”

  “Sabrina is home, and we’re going to the movies tonight. I promised I wouldn’t be late this time.” Jaxon made a face. “I’m always late when I come to the training center. I never seem to get out of here on time.” The training course was the one place her mind was so occupied with other things that she couldn’t think, couldn’t remember anything else. She worked herself hard physically, keeping the demons at bay for just a little while.

  Jaxon hadn’t felt safe in so long, she couldn’t remember what it was like to get a good night’s sleep. Tyler Drake was still out there somewhere, hiding. She knew he was close by; she felt him watching sometimes. Only Russell believed her when she told him. Russell knew her now. Jaxon didn’t give in to her imagination. She wasn’t prone to hysterics. She had some kind of very strong sixth sense that warned her when danger was close. She had trained beside Tyler for years. If she identified a sign as his, Russell believed her absolutely.

  “What show?” Don asked. “I haven’t been to a good film in a long time.” He was blatantly fishing for an invitation to go along.

  Jaxon didn’t seem to notice. She shrugged, suddenly distracted. “I’m not sure. Sabrina was going to choose it.” Her heart was beginning to pound. It was crazy. She was standing out in the open with a boy she had known all her life, yet she felt detached, far away, and peculiarly alone. Darkness was spreading within her, and with it a terrible dread.

  Don did touch her then. She had gone so still and pale, he was afraid for her. “Jaxon? Are you sick? What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong.” She whispered the words so softly, he nearly missed them.

  Jaxon sprang past Don, brushing him aside. He raced beside her, reluctant to leave her in such a state. Jaxon was so cool and withdrawn all the time, Don couldn’t believe he was seeing her like this. She didn’t glance his way, instead running flat out toward her foster home. After her mother’s and brother’s deaths and her stepfather’s mysterious disappearance, Russell and Bernice Andrews had taken Jaxx in and given her a loving home. Russell and the other members of his SEALs team had continued her training, recognizing she needed the physical action to alleviate the memories of her traumatic past. Don’s father was part of that team and often talked to his son of the tragedy. No one was absolutely certain whether Tyler Drake had really killed Mathew Montgomery as he had bragged to Rebecca, but there was little doubt he had killed Rebecca and Mathew Jr.

  Don had a bad feeling as he sprinted alongside Jaxon. It wasn’t all that hard to keep up; he was in good shape and far taller than she, yet he was sweating. Jaxon had a look on her face that made him certain she knew something he didn’t. Something terrible. He wished he had a cell phone. As he rounded a corner, he spotted an MP.

  “Hey, follow us! Come on, something’s wrong!” He yelled it with conviction, not even afraid of making a complete fool of himself. He knew it this time; he knew it the same way Jaxon knew it as they raced up the street toward her foster home.

  Jaxon stopped abruptly in the driveway, staring up at the door. It was partially open as if in invitation. Don started past her, but she caught his arm. She was shaking. “Don’t go in. He might still be there.”

  Don tried to put an arm around her. He had never seen Jaxon so shaken up. She looked fragile and grief stricken. She pulled away from him, her gaze darting around the yard, searching the terrain. “Don’t touch me, Don. Don’t come anywhere near me. If he even thinks I care about you, he’ll find a way to kill you.”

  “You don’t know what’s in that house, Jaxx,” he protested. But a part of him didn’t want to go see if she was right. Evil seemed to permeate the house.

  The MPs swaggered their way up the driveway. “You kids better not be wasting our time. What’s going on here? You know whose house this is?”

  Jaxon nodded. “Mine. The Andrews’. Be careful. I think Tyler Drake has been here. I think he’s killed again.” She sat down abruptly on the lawn, her legs giving out.

  The two MPs looked at each other. “Is this for real?” Everyone had heard about Tyler Drake, a former SEAL operative who had allegedly murdered his family, eluded capture, and was still hiding out somewhere. “Why would he come back here?”

  Jaxon didn’t respond. The darkness in her was her answer. Tyler had killed the Andrews family because they had taken her in. She was his, and in his twisted mind they had usurped his position. It should have occurred to her that he would do such a thing. He had murdered her father, thinking her father had no right to her. The same with her mother and brother. Of course he would murder the Andrews. It would make perfect sense to him. She drew up her legs and began to rock herself back and forth. She only glanced up when the two MPs rushed from the house and began to vomit on the immaculate lawn.

  Chapter One

  Jaxon Montgomery snapped the clip into her handgun and glared at her partner. “This is a setup, Barry. I can smell it. It’s amazing to me that you don’t have a clue. Where’s your sixth sense? I thought men were supposed to have some kind of built-in survival instinct.”

  Barry Radcliff snorted derisively. “You’re the one leading the party, honey, and we’re all following you.”

  “My point, partner. You have no sense of self-preservation.” Jaxx threw him a teasing grin over her shoulder. “The entire lot of you are worthless.”

  “True, but we have good taste. You look great from behind. We’re men, honey—we can’t help the hormones.”

  “Is that your excuse? Hormones running amok? I thought you liked living on the edge, you gung-ho kamikaze type daredevils.”

  “That’s you. We just go along to pull your cute little butt out of all the trouble you get into,” Barry returned. He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got to decide, Jaxx. Do we try it or call it off?”

  Jaxx closed off her mind to everything—the darkness of the night, the biting cold, the adrenaline surging in her blood, needing action. The warehouse was too easily accessible; no way could they search the upper lofts without exposing themselves. She had never been all that happy with the informant. Everything in her screamed it was a setup and she and her fellow police officers were walking into an ambush.

  Without hesitation she moved her mouth over the tiny radio. “Abort, guys. I want all of you to pull back and out. Signal when clear. Barry and I will cover until we hear from you. Go now.”

  “That strong?” She could hear the grin in Barry’s voice. “Wonder woman.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she replied rudely, her voice mild but edged with worry. Her eyes were restless, constantly moving, sweeping the entire area around them. The feeling of danger was intensifying.

  The tiny receiver in her ear crackled. “Are we going to let a woman losing her nerve cost us the biggest bust in history?” That was the new guy. The one who had been placed on her team against her will. The one who had some kind of political pull in the department and was on his way up. Benton. Craig Benton.

  “Stand down, Benton. That’s an order. We can argue over it later,” Jaxx commanded, but she knew, with a sinking heart, that he was the cause of the inner warnings shrieking at her. Benton wanted to be a hero. But there was no room for heroes in her line of work.

  Barry was swearing beside her, his body already rigid. He knew it as well as she did. Barry had been her partner long enough to know that when Jaxx said the
re was trouble, there was hell out there. “He’s going in. He’s going in. I see him at the side door.”

  “Fall back, Barry,” Jaxx snapped, already moving forward. “I’ll try to pull him out. You get the rest of the world down here, because there’s going to be a war. Keep our guys out of there until we have help. It’s an ambush.”

  She was so small and slender, dressed in her dark clothes and cap, Barry could barely make her out in the darkness of the night. She never made a sound when she moved. It was eerie. He found himself continually glancing at her to assure himself she was with him. Now he moved, too. No way was his partner going into that building without him. He issued the orders, called in the backup, but he followed her. He told himself it had nothing to do with Jaxx Montgomery and everything to do with partnership. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with the job.

  “You should see this place,” the radio crackled in their ears. “Get in here. It’s loaded with enough chemicals to blow up half the city.”

  “You idiot, it’s loaded with enough chemicals to blow up the building with you in it. Now get the hell out of there.” It was Jaxx at her best. Her voice was soft and cutting, a whip of pure contempt. Anyone hearing that voice became a believer.

  Craig Benton glanced uneasily to his right and then his left. The place suddenly gave him the creeps. He began a slow retreat, backing toward the door. At once something bit at his leg, high and ugly, knocking him backward and down. He found himself on the cold cement floor, staring up at the loft. The place remained silent. He put his hand down to touch his leg and found a mush of raw hamburger. He screamed. “I’m hit, I’m hit! Oh, God, I’m hit!”