Guardian's Joy #3 Read online

  Guardian's Joy

  A Novel of the Guardians of the Race

  by

  Jacqueline Rhoades

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyrighted 2012 by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Cover design: Heather Rhoades

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  My Thanks

  To all those who encouraged me to write

  and

  To all those who were willing to read it.

  Bless each and every one of you and your kind words.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Books by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Excerpt from The Alpha's Mate

  Chapter 1

  It was done. At the suggestion of her Captain, she’d taken a six month leave to think it over and today, six months to the day, it was done.

  “I don’t like doing this, Justice,” Captain Murray told her as he accepted her letter of resignation. “You said you’d talk to Dr. Afton.”

  “I did. It didn’t change anything.”

  “It might have, if you’d gone more than twice,” he growled.

  The shrink wanted to talk about her past and John’s death and JJ wasn’t going there. The truth about either subject would do nothing but earn her a medical leave and maybe a stay in the local psych ward. No matter how confidential the shrink claimed to be, word would get out and no cop wanted to share the front of a black and white with a nut case. JJ didn’t blame them. She’d feel the same way.

  “Look, Captain, this isn’t about John’s death. It’s about me. I’ve felt this way for a long time.”

  That much was the truth. For the past two years, the only reason she’d stayed with the force was John and he’d been gone for six months. It was time she left, too. And so, it was done. No gun. No badge. No cop.

  Her mind still back in the Captain’s office, JJ dumped her things in the chair by the foot of the stairs. She had taken two steps up when her attention was redirected by a muted clank from the kitchen, followed by another and a soft thud. She was down behind the chair and reaching cautiously for the personal Glock she kept in the drawer of the small entry table when the cat strolled into the dining area from the kitchen, the door swinging closed behind it. It sauntered through the living room, paused long enough to hiss and flatten its ears at the sight of the gun, clearly stating its opinion of firearms, and continued on to the front door where it sat calmly on the small braided rug. It stared at the knob as if expecting the brass ball to turn on its own.

  “Damn. I thought I threw you out.” She set the gun on the table. “I could have shot you, you know.” The cat didn’t look impressed. JJ looked closer at the pint sized tigress. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

  The yellow cat had shown up two weeks ago in the pouring rain, yowling on her porch until she took pity on it and let it in. She’d given it a saucer of milk and shared the can of tuna that was meant to be her sandwich supper. Her mistake. The wily feline kept sneaking back into her house no matter how many times she threw it out. She’d searched high and low for the way it got in, but she’d had no luck finding it.

  The little tabby sniffed and continued to look at the door.

  “Fine.” She unlocked and opened the door. “Go home and don’t come back. There’s no place for you here,” she said as the cat brushed past her legs.

  The cat looked back, flicked its tail twice and continued on its way. It would be back and they both knew it. There was a ten pound bag of kitty kibble in the kitchen that insured its return. JJ closed the door and ran up the stairs.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was ready to roll. Black leather pants as soft as butter melted over her long thin legs. Her full sleeved black poet’s shirt was topped by a leather vest with four latch hook closings. She would have liked to complete the look with a pair of spike heeled boots, but they were impractical in her line of work so she settled for the combat style that laced up over her ankles. She grabbed her keys and headed out to her car.

  Twenty minutes after that, she pulled the Mustang into a slot just vacated by an erratically driven Volkswagen. As soon as she was out of the car, she removed her leather jacket and folded it neatly away in the trunk. No need to tempt passersby by leaving it on the seat. She’d be cold without it, but there was nothing unusual about that. She’d been cold for a very long time.

  She beeped the lock and tucked the key securely in her pocket before taking off at a near run into the heart of the warehouse district. She slowed to a walk when she started to come across people walking the other way.

  JJ recognized the three young men in the group coming toward her. She didn’t know their names, but she’d seen them around and one of them had tried to hit on her or whatever they called it these days. Was he trying to add an older woman to his list of conquests or did she look like she was only twenty? She hadn’t talked to him long enough to find out. Snarling one of her usual cutting remarks, she’d sent him on his way to the great amusement of his friends.

  The group passed with her would-be date self-consciously looking the other way. A dark haired young woman smiled and nodded her head as if in recognition. JJ returned the nod, but didn’t smile. She wasn’t in the habit of encouraging friendliness.

  There was something odd about the group, nothing overt, but every time she saw them or others like them, her cop’s sixth sense always niggled at the back of her mind. Their clothes were too new, too put together, almost like costumes taken from a movie set. They weren’t comfortable wearing them, either. The girls were always tugging at the hems of their short skirts; the guys always reaching for ties that weren’t there. JJ thought of them as ‘others’ when she thought of them at all.

  She shook her head at her own distraction. When had being too clean cut become a crime? Tonight she was on the job. Not her official cop job, but a job nonetheless. She needed to keep her head in the game.

  JJ knew she was headed in the right direction as the music increased in volume and something sweet was added to the usual smell of oil and grease and rusted metal that permeated the district. If a substance could be smoked, it was being smoked right here. Once you were in the area, the aroma alone would lea
d the way. A miasma of herbs, spices, and the always available marijuana floated through the narrow alleys, the Hansel and Gretel breadcrumbs of the rave scene.

  Rizzo was on the door tonight and he waved her in without bothering to collect her ticket. Tall, broadly built with the face of an angry bulldog, he was one of her street acquaintances and he winked as she passed by. A blast of heat hit her as she entered and she was glad she’d braved the cold and left her jacket behind. This party had started hours ago and between the drinking, frenzied dancing and the side effects of certain drugs, the place was a furnace of body heat.

  JJ paused just inside the door to allow her eyes and ears to adjust to the pounding noise and flashing lights inside. Bodies writhed to the heavy techno beat; in pairs, in groups and alone. Laughter, shouting, squeals and shrieks combined with the music to echo off the uninsulated ceiling in a cacophony of chaos. She wove her way carefully through the crowd, saw, as she always did; enough drug buys to keep a cop buried in paperwork for a month and finally squeezed through the throng packed around the bar to snag a beer from one of the overworked bartenders.

  From there she worked her way around to the edges of the crowd and began to circle the room constantly scanning for something only she could see. The hunt was on.

  Chapter 2

  Nardo hunched into the turned up collar of his jacket and stuffed his hands back in the pockets. “I hate winter.”

  “The professor says it’s not really winter until the solstice, whatever that is.” The cold didn’t seem to bother Dov. He walked with his jacket thrown open by the wind, showing off the wide chest that stretched taut the fabric of his white tee.

  “I don’t care what the date is. It’s twenty-eight degrees out here. It’s winter. Fuck the solstice and the professor too.”

  “I don’t think you want to do that,” Dov smirked. He and his twin, Col, were the youngest members of their House of Guardians, and while the lilies emblazoned on their left pectorals along with the ribbon of banner that read ‘Paenitet me’- I repent, announced them as adult males, neither had the black skull and red tears proclaiming them to be full Guardians of the Race.

  “Do what?” Nardo asked, only half listening. He was thinking of cutting off the pony tail that hung halfway down his back. It was hard to keep his collar up with it sticking out and was uncomfortable when he tucked it inside.

  “Fuck the professor.” Dov deadpanned. He shuddered. “I got this picture in my head and it wasn’t pretty.”

  Nardo laughed and playfully shoved the younger Paenitentia into the nearest wall. Laughing, Dov threw his hands up in surrender.

  “Hey, I’m just saying…”

  “Where is Broadbent, anyway?” Broadbent’s preference for tweed jackets, a pipe, and long winded explanations had earned him the title of professor and he was scheduled as Nardo’s partner for tonight.

  “Had to meet his father in New York. It was a last minute thing. The guy called Canaan like the professor was twelve or something.” Dov puffed out his chest and deepened his voice. “I say, old chap, have a stop-over in New York and I need to see the heir. You’ll send him along, won’t you? There’s a good lad.”

  Nardo snorted at Dov’s dead on imitation. “He probably went through Canaan because Broadbent would say no. The old man calls him once a week wanting to meet with him about business or anything else that might keep him away from us.”

  “Canaan thought he’d be back in time for his shift what with it getting dark so early, but when the professor didn’t show, Fearless Leader said I had to.”

  Nardo punched Dov’s arm, this time none too gently. “Show some respect.”

  Canaan was their Liege Lord and they served at his command. They lived and worked in his House of Guardians along with four other members and three of their mates and Nardo still had trouble calling him boss, as Canaan preferred, instead of the traditional “My Lord”.

  “I got respect.” The blonde giant danced around Nardo boxing the air. “So, you gonna to tell me why we left the docks halfway through the shift to come over here?” He waved his hand at the acres of warehouses.

  “Canaan got a call from the Director of the Moonlight Sanctuary Association. Seems they’re having trouble keeping some of the youngbloods on the rez. They’ve been coming into town, hitting the clubs, partying. You know the drill. Same thing you and Col do.”

  Dov made a rude gesture near his crotch and wiggled his eyebrows. “I got needs, bro, and nobody says we’re supposed to be monks. Those guys on the rez got my sympathy. You ever been to one of those dances out there?”

  “My family and yours don’t run in the same circles, Dov. I’m not likely to get an invitation to Moonlight Sanctuary.”

  “Consider yourself lucky. It’s like 1955. Canaan makes us go a few times a year ‘cause he promised Mom he’d make sure we were introduced to ‘decent women’. Then he goes and bonds to Grace.” Dov raised his hands in defense. “Who’s number one in my book, but probably at the bottom of the Councils, but he still makes us go to the damn cotillions. Gracie, the big traitor, backs him up.”

  “You’re an adult. You can say no.” Nardo gave him a sidelong glance and snickered, “Or are you afraid?”

  “Of Canaan and Grace? Nah.” Dov waved them off with his hand. “But my mom? Be afraid. Be very afraid.” He shuddered in mock fear.

  Nardo wondered what it would be like to have a mother who still cared. The twins’ mother called at least once a week, wanting a rundown of what was happening in their lives and giving loads of unwanted advice which mostly went in one ear and out the other, but they knew she loved them and they loved her, too.

  His own parents had done their requisite twenty years and cut him loose. He hadn’t heard from his father in years. On the rare occasions when he called his mother, their conversation was stilted and polite until Nardo asked after his younger half-brother. She could prattle on for hours about the scientific genius she’d borne to the man who replaced Nardo’s father. Nardo actually liked his brother, who’d gone to school with the twins, but it irked him that she could describe his brother’s life in minute detail, yet never asked Nardo about anything. He shook his head to erase his thoughts and got back to business.

  “Apparently, some of these young bar hoppers are seeking their entertainment in more out of the way places. We’re supposed to run them down, shake our finger at their naughty little noses and send them home.”

  Dov started to dance, hands held high in the air and hips gyrating to some unheard beat. For his size, he was remarkably graceful. “Gotta tell you, buddy, sometimes this job is ooo-kay. But if we’re going to rave, we’re way over dressed.”

  “What?”

  “We got too many clothes on. By the time we find this place, it’s gonna be an oven. Girl’s will be down to bikini tops or those tiny little strips of cloth.” He demonstrated with his fingers drawing a narrow band across his chest. “Guys wear baggy pants or shorts and lose their shirts. We need lights, kandi necklaces, pacifiers. Half the place will be high on booze or drugs and the other half’ll be high on the music. Looking like this, we’re just not going to blend in.”

  “And you know so much about this because…?”

  “Dude, did you not hear the part about half naked women? Damn, Nardo, looking at pictures on the internet just ain’t the same as looking at the real thing. You need to get out more.”

  “Never mind what I need. What we need is to find this place, check it out and get on with it. I don’t like playing babysitter to a bunch of pampered little shits and I like spying on them even less.”

  They found the place within minutes by following the trail of people coming and going and cornering a couple of young Paenitentia males along the way. Dov enjoyed flexing his muscles and scaring the hell out of the young offenders while Nardo stood to the side trying not to laugh. The older generations might look down their noses at the Guardians, but the younger ones were in awe.

  They used their white light, a
special Guardian talent, to move swiftly and invisibly past the man at the door and the two bouncers who stood just inside. Moving away from the doors and finding a relatively secluded corner, they lost the light and surveyed the room.

  “Holy fucking shit.” Nardo ground his teeth in frustration. The place was a sea of bodies and they had no idea how many Sanctuary playboys were in the crowd. The flashing lights and rapid tempo were taking up residence in his head. He saw an overturned chair a few feet away and pointed to it.

  “Sit,” he said to Dov whose eyes were already wide and excited. “Stay. And don’t move until I tell you to.”

  “Shithead,” the young trainee mumbled, but he righted the chair and sat as Nardo knew he would.

  Starting on his left and moving clockwise, the Guardian let his eyes trail around the room. The strobes wreaked havoc with his night vision and he blinked frequently against the glare until he reached the five o’clock mark of his circle. A woman stood; waist, shoulders and head above the crowd. Her spiky white blonde hair sparkled under the lights and her eyes were bright as they traveled over the crowd. Her tongue slid out and she moistened her lips so they, too, shimmered in the light. The crowd parted and Nardo’s breath caught as her totality was revealed; long, long, long legs encased in black leather and ending in sturdy boots that did nothing to detract from the slender sensuality of that lithe form.

  Who was she looking for? And why should he care? Why should she draw his attention? She was attractive in a room filled with attractive women and yet, she stood out. She was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t recall the memory. Maybe Dov was right and he needed to get out more. Who could forget a face as beautiful as that?

  The impatient tone of Dov’s voice registered before Nardo realized his name was being called.

  “What?” he asked impatiently. He reluctantly turned away from the woman in black and then mentally slapped his forehead. Duh! That was why she caught his attention. She was wearing too many clothes and all of them were black. No wonder she stood out from the crowd. His mind began to play with the idea of what she would look like without them.