The Native Dawn Series book 7 : Rogue Dawn book 3: Anna and Toby's story
Dawn's Never Ending Glow
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Prologue
The bastard knew how to put on the pressure. And Keene, as always, was his scrabbling servant. A whipped pup cowering at the master's feet. The Son of a bitch expected the impossible. But, of course didn't he always? Find a woman- one woman- one pale, blonde-haired beauty with eyes the color of arctic ice. The city stretching out beneath him in a series of twinkling lights that sparkled like gemstones against a backdrop of black, velvet wasn't the largest city he'd ever seen. Far from it. But, to find one human being amongst the teeming population of eight hundred thousand-give or take a few thousand- not very damned likely.
With nothing more than a face, a first name, and the threat of his master's punishment, if he failed, to drive him on, Keene lowered his big body from its perch. The soles of his boots hit the concrete with a soft whisper. In the wee pre-dawn hours, he didn't pretend to try to be human. He moved with a predator's grace and speed through the deserted downtown area and searched for his proverbial needle in the haystack.
God help the woman, if indeed, he found her. That thought was incentive enough to make Keene happy about the master's punishment. The bastard wouldn't kill him. Oh yeah, Roark would make him wish he were dead. But, then again, his master had been doing that for almost a century and a half. Nope, Roark needed him. Relished in torturing him by doing nothing more than keeping him alive and in his service.
Keene moved through the silence, one heavily booted foot placed in front of the other, and thought the thought that had been plaguing him since his birth into this life. Why didn't he just keep on walking? He knew why. And the knowledge condemned him. One day, he'd go after his master. Kill him. And then, he'd walk, and just keep walking.
Around him the city started to wake. With a sleepy sigh, the streets breathed their first breaths of the morning. Traffic lights, flashing yellow for the night, resumed their red, yellow, green routine. The smell of freshly baked rolls and coffee wafted down the empty sidewalk from the warm glow of a bakery's plate glass window. Somewhere off in the distance a garbage truck rattled down an alley. Keene walked past a church, the peel of morning bells sounded out, heralding in a new day. He looked up at the steeple, at the cross on its peek, standing out in pale relief from the dim gray of dawn, and wondered would God still have him?
Keene pulled his black stocking cap over his bald head. Not because he was cold, but somehow, standing at the foot of those stairs, under God's eye, made him feel raw and exposed. As if God were actually there, watching him. And the Man Upstairs didn't particularly like what he saw. At least the Heavenly Hosts and he agreed about one thing. He didn't like himself very much either.
The deliveryman hefted his bulk from behind the wheel of a white panel truck. Fished in the back and hefted his burden of Sunday editions over his shoulder. Spat up a ball of phlegm from his throat in a greasy green-gray lump on the concrete, and loaded the bundle newspapers into self-serve machine at the corner of the platform. Lazily scratching his ass, the man ambled back to his truck, climbed behind the wheel, and put the thing in drive. Good thing he did too. There were still plenty of shadows. Plenty of darkness left before dawn. And Keene was hungry.
Beneath his feet, the train platform rumbled as the commuter train screeched to a halt. The doors whisked open, delivering nobody and picking up a whole bunch of nothing, this early on a Sunday morning. The streets were vacant, as if the whole city had partied too hard last night and needed time to sleep off one hell of a hangover before Monday morning. Keene had no money. But, he really didn't need the two-dollars and fifty-cents in coin required to purchase the Sunday edition. He balled up his fist and smashed his hand through the glass. Too easy really, even a human could do it. Casually brushing away the shards of glass, he snatched up the bulky Sunday edition and tossed the slick, colorful ads, the classifieds, and the funny pages into the trash.
Keene skimmed the headlines with mild disinterest. In the whole course of human history, nothing much seemed to change, just the players. He tossed the front page into the garbage and flipped through the sports section. Yeah. More of the same old there too. In his day, his sport had been much more critical than catching a ball or running the mile in less than five minutes. Hell, he'd been running for his life and dodging the bullets of the Confederate army. Hadn't been any fun. He hadn't made any headlines. And apparently, he hadn't been that good at it.
Scanning the social pages, who knew, maybe his mystery woman was a socialite, he read through the marriage announcements and the obits. It'd be a very fortunate thing for her, if he saw her picture and her name listed among the dead. He didn't. Of course, not. His blonde needle in the haystack was alive and kicking. For now.
He turned the page, the newspaper in his hands ruffling in the spring breeze, and what do you know? There she was. Smiling up at him from a grainy black and white. Wasn't it supposed to be a good thing to have your picture in the paper? Not for her. Her fifteen minutes of fame was the noose around her neck.
Keene cursed under his breath and carefully folded the newspaper, tucking it into the front pocket of his jacket. Timing was everything. And unfortunately for her, her time was up. He had no other choice but to do what he had to do. And God forgive him for it.
Chapter 1
Anna spent the night partying till dawn at Alex's wedding reception and was wiling away the morning lounging in bed, sated and sleepily leaning across the muscular bulk of Toby's bare chest. She was leaving today. Returning to the city, and she didn't want to waste a minute of it doing something as mundane as sleeping. These precious few hours they had left together had to last.
The recent visit of an uninvited Rogue Master to the compound had left The Sons vulnerable. Dane wanted security beefed up. And Toby being the brothers' main tech guy, had to oversee the installation of even more cameras and surveillance equipment. As much as Anna's heart ached to have him by her side. She got it. She understood that the brothers needed him more than she did.
Anna flipped through the Sunday paper, looking for her picture. The article was supposed to run in this edition. Proud, but a little embarrassed at the attention, and maybe just a bit egotistical, she wanted to read what the article had to say about her. She'd spent months working on the project, redesigning the children's wing of the hospital. Laboring over the slightest detail to create a friendly and inviting space for both the patients and the staff. She hated publicity-nah, not really- this was just the boost her career needed.
She scowled at her photo, frowning at the grainy black and white image and the whole five-sentence paragraph, months of hard work and planning had earned. So much for making full partner in the firm before she turned thirty-five, she'd be lucky if her boss didn't demote her to cleaning toilets. She looked awful. The light mint green suit she'd worn that day looked a dreary shade of pale gray in the black and white picture.
She shook off her dismay and quickly turned the page before Toby saw the picture. It wasn't like anyone was going to notice the article anyway. Tucked neatly behind the sports page, her whole five-sentences worth of fame were hardly worth mentioning.
"Hey, is that my girl?" Toby asked, turning the page back to the write-up. Gently, he rubbed his stubble-covered cheek across the top of her head and read the article. Her career was important to her and she'd worked her ass off on that project. And all she got was five measly sentences for all that hard work?
"It is," Anna answered, shrugging as if getting her name and picture in the paper were just an everyday occurrence and the article weren't that big of a deal. Ok, so it was a big deal to her. But, she really didn't want to talk about how badly the meager paragraph that barely scratched the surface of all the months of hard work, hurt.
"Wow, your own article. I'm proud of you." Toby dipped his head and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. He sensed Anna's bruised feelings beneath the hard exterior of her forced, impartial expression. Yeah, the article mattered to her. A lot more than what she let on. He had exceptional vision, catching even the slightest detail of the photo. Anna looked amazing, so professional in her suit, and tightly wound bun. Even if the news media didn't fully appreciate her, he sure as hell did. And it was time to tell her exactly how much she meant to him.
