Inevitable Series 02 The Undoing Read online

  "You can force me to go with you but you can't force me to help you. And I will not help you if Jim dies." He pulled out of her grip and turned a hard gaze on Brackett. "You know I'm telling the truth."

  Brackett's eyes narrowed as he considered Blair's words. "Make your call."

  Blair punched in the numbers before returning to Jim's side. The line was answered after the first ring.

  "911. What is your emergency?"

  "This is Blair Sandburg. I need an ambulance at 852 Prospect, third floor loft. I have an officer down. He's been shot full of tranquilizers."

  "Do you know what kind of tranquilizers?" the calm voice on the other end of the line asked.

  "What kind?" He looked at Brackett but the man only shrugged at him and smiled smugly.

  "No," he ground out, "but the dart that was used will be on the floor beside him."

  "Okay, that's enough." Brackett came toward him. "Hang up."

  Blair closed his eyes, concentrating on what he needed to say, trying desperately to block out everything else. He needed to make the person on the other end of the phone understand the special circumstances surrounding his Sentinel. "Jim...the officer who's down...he's had bad reactions in the past to drugs so whatever happens, be sure to tell the doctors not to pump anything else into him." He felt the cool steel of the gun barrel press against his forehead.

  "Hang up the phone, Sandburg!"

  Blair flinched at the harsh tone but did not relent. "I also need you to contact Captain Simon Banks, Cascade Major Crimes. He's knows more about--"

  But he never finished the sentence. The last thing he remembered was white hot pain in his head and the distant sound of Alex's laughter.

  Blair moaned. The noise echoed around him. Sent a piercing stab of pain through his head. He inhaled sharply. A dank, musty smell invaded him. He coughed, choking on the stagnant odor. Rolling on his side, he pulled himself into a tight ball. Minutes ticked by as he struggled to get the pain in his mind under control. He concentrated on his breathing, on the silence all around him. Slowly, the pain subsided...and the questions in his mind began.

  What the hell happened? Where am I? Why is it so damn cold?

  He opened his eyes. The room around him swam into slow focus. High ceiling, cement floor, low light. Definitely not the loft. He pushed up from his prone position and another low moan escaped him. His hand went to his throbbing head. Gently, his fingers probed the wound just above his left eye. He could feel the dried blood on his face, matted in his hair. How...? But then he remembered. "Jim," he breathed, the memory of his partner lying on the floor of the loft, his too slow breathing, flashed through him.

  He'd been on the phone, desperate to get help for Jim. Brackett had wanted him to hang up. That's where the memory stopped. "Must have hit me with the gun," he muttered. He dropped his hand from his head as he noticed the blood on the front of his shirt. It too appeared to be dry and hardened. How long had he been unconscious? It didn't matter. What he needed to do was figure out how to get out of here.

  He looked around the room he was in. It appeared to be an office. It was empty except for the metal desk beside him and a few discarded pieces of paper that littered the floor. Using the desk, he managed to get to his feet. He swayed slightly but remained upright. "Good. This is good." Staggering, his feet still not quite in sync with his head, he moved to the door opposite the desk. He was not surprised to find it locked. He reached for his glasses and realized for the first time that he was no longer wearing his jacket. "Great." He leaned down and squinted at the lock. Deadbolt, brand new from the looks of it. His gaze shifted to the windows beside the door. At one time they had overlooked another part of this building. Now they were covered in boards, boards that were also new from the looks of them. So they had prepared this prison ahead of time. Had planned to bring him here.

  But where exactly was here?

  He made his way back to the desk, leaving footprints in the thick dust that covered the floor, and searched inside. He pulled open each drawer. Nothing, all empty. He slammed the last one shut and noticed a calendar on the floor, sticking out from beneath his tennis shoe. Blair leaned down and snatched it up. Blowing off the dust, he squinted down at the writing across the bottom edge. Jax Lumber Mill was printed in bold letters, the address beneath it Cascade. The date was five years old. Was this where he was? An abandoned lumber mill on the edge of Cascade? He looked down at the blood covering the front of him. Touched the wound on his head. It made sense. Where could Alex and Brackett take him where he wouldn't be noticed? You can't exactly drag and unconscious, bloody man through the airport without getting a few strange looks. Somehow the idea of still being within driving range of his home gave him a feeling of comfort. True, no one had any idea where he was but it could have been worse.

  "I could have woken up in Tasmania," he muttered.

  He could see another room just a few feet away, the door missing. A bathroom? He stumbled toward it, glad when his suspicion was confirmed. The small room housed a sink, a toilet...and his backpack. He pulled at the cord hanging beside the single bare bulb and was relieved when the light flicked on. The relief was short-lived as he stared at himself in the mirror over the sink.

  A large gash stood out over his left eyebrow. Blood matted his hair and covered half his face and shirt. You knew there was blood. Yeah, but he hadn't known how much until now. Head wounds bleed a lot, he reassured himself. It is not serious. He turned the handles on the faucet and waited. The pipes rattled then groaned before finally spewing out dark, rust colored water.

  "Great. If Brackett or Alex don't kill me, the water will." He shifted shaking hands under the steady stream and splashed it over his face. Grabbing his backpack, he pulled it open. Alex had packed light. His razor and toothbrush. Three pairs of socks, three changes of underwear, two T-shirts, one flannel shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Maybe it was a good sign that there wasn't more.

  Stripping off his soiled shirt, he slid it under the water and cleaned the blood from his face and hair. While he worked, his mind drifted back to the loft. Back to Jim. Had the ambulance gotten there in time to help his partner? Or had Jim died before anyone could arrive? No, if Jim were dead, Blair would know. He didn't know how but he was sure he would somehow know. Right now, he had to believe that. Because as long as Jim was alive, there was hope.

  He left the wet T-shirt on the side of the sink and pulled on one of the clean ones from inside the pack. He added the flannel shirt over it, trying to ward off the chill that had been with him since he woke. He heard the door open in the other room just as he finished buttoning his shirt.

  "Come out here, Mr. Sandburg." Brackett's voice echoed in the room.

  Blair looked at himself once more in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. Brackett stood just inside the door, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Alex was no where in sight. "You look human again."

  "My glasses were in my jacket. I'd appreciate getting them back." He crossed to the desk and sat on the edge, working hard to keep his voice even, his hands steady.

  "Sure but I really don't think the location of your glasses should be your main concern, do you?" Brackett pushed away from the wall and crossed to Blair, stopping inches from him. "Aren't you even going to ask why you're here?"

  "I know why I'm here."

  Brackett smiled. "Good. Then I don't have to do a lot of explaining. You see my 'superiors' want a trained, functioning Sentinel. And they want quick results. I told them I could get that from you."

  Blair's stomach clenched. If his theory about Alex proved to be true, then he would not be able to train her. How long would it be before they realized it and killed him?

  Simon Banks sat beside the hospital bed, his gaze on the machines hooked up to his best detective. How the hell had this happened? They hadn't thought for a minute that Alex would try to snatch Sandburg so quickly. Had no idea she would be so bold as to do it from right inside Ellison's loft. T
hat mistake had nearly cost Jim his life.

  The first two days had been the worst. Jim had been on a respirator then. The doctors had finally removed it last night when Jim began to breathe on his own again. Three times the normal amount of tranquilizer had been used. Would have killed anyone else. The doctors were still trying to figure out how Jim had survived. Simon rubbed his eyes. It had to be Alex. She would be the only one who would realize that it would take that much of the drug to keep Ellison down for the count.

  Simon had listened to Blair's 911 call over and over. Nothing. No clue as to where the anthropologist might have been taken. Just the kid's frantic request for help and the sudden disconnection at the end. That was the part of the call that stuck with Simon. Blair's voice cutting out mid-sentence. The cold silence on the line before the phone was disconnected. Had Blair somehow managed to escape long enough to telephone for help? No. The call had come from the loft. Somehow Sandburg had talked Alex into allowing him to summon the EMT. Which didn't completely surprise Simon knowing some of the things he had let the kid talk him into. But Blair must have pushed her too far and she had reacted violently.

  Or her partner had.

  It was the only thing that made sense. Alex would not knock Sandburg unconscious because she could not get his body out of the loft. Not with EMT about to arrive at any moment. No, she had to have a partner. Someone who would have been able to cart the grad student out of the loft. Someone to do the dirty work for her. Someone to keep Sandburg in line. Maybe if Simon could figure out who the partner was, he would be able to get a handle on where they had taken Blair.

  He glanced at Jim as he shifted in the bed. Showing signs of waking, that's what the doctors had called it. Simon knew Jim would be awake soon. And as much as Simon wanted that, he didn't relish the idea of telling him that he had no idea where his partner was. Yet Simon knew that Blair Sandburg's chances of survival would go up one hundred percent once Jim opened his eyes.

  He didn't really understand the bond between them. Was it just the Sentinel / Guide connection that had made them so close? He found it hard to believe that Jim Ellison would have given Sandburg the time of day if not for that. But now... Simon had seen the toll it had taken on Jim when Blair had told him their partnership was over. He knew Jim could no longer function without the kid.

  But it's not just Jim.

  Blair Sandburg had somehow slipped into his life as well. Hell, he'd slipped into the lives of everyone in Major Crimes. The whole department had been working overtime trying to find him since Simon received the call from the 911 operator. No one would rest until Blair came home safely. "Because he's one of our own," Simon whispered. "And nobody messes with one of our own."

  He found himself once again in the depths of the jungle. He could hear the wolf somewhere up ahead but could not see the animal through the thick foliage. He moved stealthily, pushing back leaves, climbing over broken tree limbs. A large structure loomed up before him. The temple? No, this was something else.

  "Jim?"

  Another sound. A voice, familiar but not the one he wanted to hear, the one he searched for. This unwanted voice came to him from far away, calling to him through a deep, dark tunnel.

  "Jim?"

  He ignored it, still hunting through the jungle. He needed to find the wolf. Was desperate to make contact. But it seemed no matter which way he turned, he found himself back at the dark, deserted structure. He moved in closer, realizing there was something oddly familiar about it.

  "Jim!" A touch this time. Something pulling at his arm. Pulling him away from the jungle. "Come on, Jim. You're almost there. Just try and wake up now."

  Slowly, Jim Ellison blinked his eyes. A white room came into focus around him. "Blair?"

  Simon leaned down toward him. "No, it's Simon, Jim. Blair's not here right now."

  "Where?" he breathed, hoping Simon would know what he was asking.

  There was a slight hesitation before the answer came. That hesitation confirmed Jim's worst fear before Simon spoke the words. "Blair's missing, Jim. We think Alex took him."

  "How long?" he managed.

  "Four days ago."

  Jim closed his eyes. How the hell had this happened? He could remember going back to the loft. The conversation he and Blair had had in the truck. But once they left the elevator, things became foggy in his mind. What the hell could Alex have done to him that would take him out for four days?

  It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Blair was missing and Jim had to find him.

  He gripped the side of the bed and began to pull himself upright.

  "No way, Jim." Simon's hands were on him, forcing him back down. "You're not going anywhere."

  He stared up into Simon's concerned eyes. He knew his captain was only trying to do what was best for him. But what was best was finding his partner. "Simon, if I'm awake then I'm alive. If I'm alive then I'm going after Sandburg. You can either help me or get out of my way."

  Blair took a deep breath, trying to find his center, find his peace. He needed to maintain control if he was going to help Alex find her's. Unfortunately, that seemed to be proving impossible.

  "Okay, let's try this again," he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice..

  "No." Alex stood beside him, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. "I don't want to do any more tests that involve taste."

  Blair looked down at the glasses he had set up. It was a simple test. He'd done it with Jim early in their partnership. Fill each glass with water and a very small amount of something innocuous. Sugar. Salt. Vinegar. Then identify the substance added to the water. Easy. At least it had been for Jim.

  The first time he'd tried the test with Alex, she'd taken two sips from one of the glasses and retched up the liquid, accusing him of trying to poison her. That had been the first time she'd hit him. Two days ago? He couldn't be sure. There were no clocks in this place. No windows that weren't covered with boards. No way for him to measure the passage of time.

  Not even three squares a day and a good night's sleep.

  They fed him when they remembered to and Alex never let him rest more than an hour or two at the most. He wasn't even sure anymore when it was day and when it was night. She seemed to need to be with him all the time. Whether conducting a test or just sitting with him, watching him.

  She was convinced that he could help her. He'd known since the first day he'd arrived that he could not. After his initial "discussion" with Bracket, he'd been taken to see Alex. He'd asked her about the dreams almost immediately and she had confirmed his worst fear. She was no longer having them.

  She was no longer a Sentinel.

  "What do you want to do?" he asked wearily.

  "You're the teacher," she spat out. "You tell me."

  Exhaustion pulled at him. He couldn't think beyond the test already set-up in front of him. Couldn't remember any of the countless others he had done with Jim. He rubbed his forehead, trying to block out the headache that was just beginning to throb there. "Let's just continue with this since we're--"

  "I said no!" Her arm swept across the glasses, knocking them to the floor.

  Blair turned away, shielding himself from the flying glass. Moments later, she was on him, her hands gripping the front of his shirt.

  "You're doing this on purpose," she snarled, her face inches from his. "You're not teaching me anything!" She backhanded him across the face, his head snapping to the side.

  The first time she'd hit him, he'd considered returning the blow. He'd been taught never to hit women. Since he'd met Jim, he'd had to hit a few. He hadn't liked it. Didn't want to do it again. But with Alex... "You need to calm down." He spoke quietly, slowly, trying to relax her. "Listen to my voice."

  "I'm sick of your voice." She struck him again. This time he tasted blood in his mouth. He reached up, running a finger over the split in his lip. "Oh, Blair." Alex touched the wound, stared down at the blood on her fingers. Her head tilted to the side, a str
ange light coming into her eyes. "I know what I want to do," she murmured. "I want to work on touch."

  Blair took a step back from her. "Alex--" Her hand snapped out again but this time, it trailed gently down the side of his face, tracing the red marks her blows had left. Every day, her behavior became more and more unpredictable. Angry one minute, happy the next, sad moments later. Blair tried to predict them, flow with them, hoping to avoid the worst of her mood swings. But this one...

  "Come on, Blair. Let's do touch." Her hands moved to the front of his shirt and began to unbutton it. He caught her hands, stopping them..

  "No, Alex."

  "I know you want to," she purred, trying to pull free. "I know you find me attractive." It was true. When they first met, he had thought she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. But now the idea of her touching him was utterly repulsive. He tightened his grip on her hands, keeping them off him.

  "What's wrong, Blair? Your heart is racing," she whispered. "Did Ellison ever tell you that every heartbeat sounds a little bit different? Some run faster, some deeper, some erratically. But they're all distinct. Like fingerprints. After a while of being with someone, you get to know the sound of their specific heartbeat."

  Was that possible? Blair knew that Jim could hear his heartbeat, probably even listened to it in times of stress or danger. But was it familiar to him somehow? Could he pick his specific heartbeat out of a crowd? Blair had never even considered that a possibility.

  "Your heartbeat centers me," Alex continued. "Soothes me." Once again, she tried to pull her hands from his. "Let me hear your heartbeat up close."

  "Brackett," Blair yelled. Usually when she got out of hand, Brackett would come and stop things before they went too far. To Blair's great relief, today was no exception.

  "Okay Alex, that's enough." Brackett stepped into the room and crossed to them, stopping just behind Blair.