InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hijacked Honeymoon ❯ Chapter 14

Hijacked Honeymoon

 

Chapter 14

 

Sesshomaru had aimed his weapon in front of him the moment he'd left the women behind him. From the living room, he'd already known someone had entered the apartment. If the rising fur on Whisker's back hadn't warned him, the sound of glass scraping would have. And as he approached, he took in a whiff of acid that would eat through glass and make breaking in a snap.

 

Had the shooter from the forest found them? Was it Hojo?

 

In the silence and darkness Sesshomaru listened for the sound of breathing, the rustle of clothing, a board squeaking beneath the tread of a foot. Nothing. From the lack of sound he concluded the intruder was skilled, well trained, disciplined and deadly. Hojo had that kind of training. He wouldn't set off the alarms. He'd probably rappelled from the roof and had picked a bedroom at the far end of the penthouse to avoid being heard—which meant his surveillance was top-notch because he'd known in advance that his tarfets had been in the living area.

 

Hopefully the intruder would have no idea that Sesshomaru's keen hearing had picked up the slight scraping of glass during the other man's initial entry. But Sesshomaru was too experienced to count on surprise for an edge. One mistake, one wrong move could blow the mission. Even worse he was the only one preventing the intruder from getting to Kagome and Sango.

 

Kagome, bliss her, had kept up a chatter, saying his name occasionally as if he were still in the room with them. He couldn't ask for her to do more and wondered how he'd been lucky enough to gain her full cooperation. In more ways then one, he was very glad he'd interrupted her wedding.

 

After reading Hojo's file, Sesshomaru knew the man had had Special Forces training in addition to his FBI training. He'd be deadly with a gun. And if he was also a double agent, he may have received specialized hand-to-hand in any number of martial arts. Not for the first time on this mission, Sesshomaru wished he had backup, someone to escort the women out the door while he stalked the intruder.

 

No worries.

 

Sesshomaru cleared his mind of all distractions. Finally his eyes readjusted to the darkness. He could make out the blackness of the walls, the grayness of picture frames. Searching the deepest shadows for a glint of a weapon of the white of an eye or even the silhouette of a body part, he came up with zip. But that didn't mean the intruder wasn't here.

 

He sniffed again, hoping for a scent of soap, shampoo, cologne, aftershave. Nothing. Yet he sensed the man's presence like an ominous evil spinning a web of danger and waiting to draw him into its net.

 

In combat, time always slowed for Sesshomaru. Elements that passed by in minutes of real time seemed to take much longer under duress. Usually this allowed his mind to analyze every element and make the right decision. But with Kagome in the living room, the ticking seconds weighed heavily on his shoulders. How long before the women said or did something wrong? He feared most that they might come to investigate and wished he'd had chance to give them instructions before he'd left them alone.

 

Too late now.

 

Instinct told Sesshomaru the man was in the far bedroom, but in case he was wrong, he couldn't pass by the first bedroom without assessing and clearing it of danger. At all times he had to maintain his position between the intruder and his target.

 

While letting his gaze go back and forth between the hallway he'd vacated and the bedroom, he silently opened the closet, his gaze sweeping the empty balcony, then he ducked to see under the bed. Carefully he searched the bathroom. All empty.

 

Sesshomaru crouched low and shifted into the hall. Something hard slammed down on his arm. Instead of pain, his fingers went numb and he dropped the weapon. He didn't waste his breath on a curse. Instead he rolled, lashed out with a foot and caught his foe in the ribs with a glancing blow. The guy had anticipated his move and avoided the direct force which would otherwise have broken the rib and punctured a lung.

 

Sesshomaru's rolling maneuver should have ended with him balanced on the balls of his feet. And facing his attacker, ready to go. But his opponent fired a weapon, the silencer muffling the shots, but nothing could disguise the bullets chewing up wood and plaster as they imbedded into the walls, floor and ceiling.

 

Down on his side, Sesshomaru swivelled, scissors kicked and toppled the man. He heard a heavy object skid across the floor and hoped it was the gun. Out of the darkness, strong hands grapped his throat, squeezed his jugular. Sesshomaru slammed his good arm up in a strike to the other's forearms, but once again his opponent anticipated and blocked with a shift of his torso. And all the while those hands squeezed until Sesshomaru's lungs burned for oxygen. Light-headed, with only one good arm, he had mere seconds to form a strategy.

 

Sesshomaru went for broke. Bringing up his elbow, he rammed the man's nose, hard enough to break it but unfortunately not hard enough to ram the bones into the skull for a killing blow. As Sesshomaru expected, the hands on his throat didn't loosen. With a roar of pain, the guy tightened his hold, but he dropped his chin to avoid swallowing blood.

 

That was the move Sesshomaru had been waiting for. After reaching around the man's head and positioning his arm over the man's shoulder and chin, Sesshomaru grapped on to his own shirt for leverage. Then he began to squeeze in a chokehold.

 

Sensing his tactical mistake too late, his opponent attempted to slam Sesshomaru's head into the marble floor. Sesshomaru heard a resounding snap. And blacked out.

 

 

“Kagome, this isn't a good idea.” Sango tugged on the back of Kagome's shirt.

 

“I haven't heard a sound in over a minute.” Her mouth desert dry, Kagome took another step forward. Aiming the gun as Sesshomaru had taught her earlier, her heart pounding so hard, her hands shook. “Sesshomaru,” she called out softly.

 

No one answered.

 

Kagome flicked on the hall lights. And at the sight of the two still bodies, Sesshomaru's and a complete stranger's, her skin went clammy. “Oh, my God.” She started to run toward the men Sesshomaru, when Sango clamped a hand around her upper arm, tugged hard and halted her in her tracks. “Let me go. I've got to see if Sesshomaru's…all right.”

 

“No.” Sango's eyes were wide with fear, her voice insistent. “Haven't you seen those movies where the villain pretends to be hurt and then rises up to attack the girl?”

 

“This is real life, not television.”

 

“Television drama is based on real life. No way am I letting you—“

 

Kagome twisted her arm out of her friend's grasp and hurried toward the men who lay sprawled on the floor, their limbs twisted in disarray. Despite her fear and rising panic, Kagome couldn't run away when Sesshomaru could be injured and might need help. “Sango, that other man's neck is broken. He's dead.”

 

“You sure?” Sango, bless her, hadn't left her alone. She'd stayed, but at the other end of the hall, as if ready to flee at any moment.

 

As a precautionary measure, Kagome spared the man a second glance. No way could he still threaten them. He was big, bigger then Sesshomaru, and as she took in his harsh features frozen in a death mask, she couldn't stop a shiver of revulsion. With his eyes open and glassy, his neck angled unnaturally, he was a goner. “He'd dead. Dead. Barring divine intervention, he's not going to rise up and hurt anyone ever again.”

 

Dropping to her knees beside Sesshomaru, she placed her ear over his heart. And heard nothing. Please, please, let him be alive, she prayed.

 

“Is he…? As if the words aloud could cause bad news, Sango clearly couldn't bring herself to finish her question.

 

“I don't know.” First aid was not Kagome's forte. Her own blood was rushing so hard though her veins she couldn't hear Sesshomaru heartbeat.

 

Sango lightly put her hand over his lips. “Well, he's breathing. Now can we call 911?”

 

Yes. Oh, how she'd love to turn Sesshomaru's care over to someone who knew what they were doing. She recalled how he'd helped her escape the crashed helicopter and fed her in the forest and wished she could do more for him now. But she knew he wouldn't want her to bring in outsides. “No.”

 

“What do you mean `no'?” Sango stared at her, her eyes blazing with irritation, fear and suspicion. “Is there something you haven't told me?”

 

Kagome couldn't tell Sango about the Shey Group or Hojo's duplicity without putting her in more danger. She couldn't call for help because Hojo might have sent this man and would surely have the emergency channels monitored. And if he learned this killer had failed, he'd likely send another to finish the job. With Sesshomaru hurt, he couldn't protect himself, never mind her.

 

Sensing what she did next would be critical to their survival, she gulped air into her lungs and blew it out slowly. They needed help, all right, but she had to do the right thing.

 

“Sango, get me your cell phone.”

 

“Who you going to call?” Sango hurried down the hallway, talking over her shoulder.

 

“Sesshomaru's boss.”

 

Returning, Sango handed her the phone with a frown. “What does he do?”

 

“Not now.” Kagome dialled the ten-digit number she'd memorized when she's been in the phone booth with Sesshomaru. Now she could use that information to help Sesshomaru. “Hello, is this Logan Kincaid?”

 

“Yes. Please identify yourself and explain how you got this number.”

 

“It's Kagome. Sesshomaru is hurt. I didn't know what to do and I called you first.”

 

“Are you all right?”

 

She dismissed Kincaid's concern, but his steady voice calmed her. “I'm fine, but I don't know what to do.”

 

“Kagome, you did the right thing by calling me. I know you're scared, but tell me your situation. How badly is Sesshomaru hurt?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“Is he unconscious?”

 

“I'm not a doctor, but he's not talking. For all I know he's in a coma. You've got to do something. We're as Sango's apartment, and someone broke in. there was a fight.”

 

“Are you in immediate danger?”

 

“I don't think so. Sango and I are okay, and Sesshomaru killed the other guy.”

 

“Other guy? He's not Hojo?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hold on, Kagome. I'm going to patch you through to a friend of mine. Megan Slade is medical doctor and part of our group.”

 

“Hurry. I don't like his color.”

 

“Hello?” the doctor's voice came through the line. Her greeting was slightly fuzzy, her pleasant tone husky as if she'd just awakened in the middle of the night. But the three-way call as clear as if the conversation was taking place in the same room.

 

“Sesshomaru's unconscious,” Kincaid explained tersely.

 

“For how long?” the doctor asked.

 

“Maybe a minute or two,” Kagome replied. “I'm not sure.”

 

“Kagome's the women Sesshomaru's been protecting,” Logan explained again.

 

“Hi, Kagome. Is Sesshomaru's heart beating?” Megan asked, her voice suddenly alert and practical.

 

Kagome leaned down and tried again in frustration while Sango looked on. “I can't hear it.”

 

“Can you see his chest rising and falling?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Don't move Sesshomaru, but from his current position can you see any bleeding?”

 

“No blood. There's dark bruises on his neck.”

 

“All right, your doing fine. Look at his neck. Can you see a spot where his pulse is throbbing?”

 

“No.”

 

“Touch his neck lightly below the ear with your pointer and index finger.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Do you feel a throbbing?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Excellent. I want you to start counting the throbs when I say go,” Megan instructed. “Ready?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Go.”

 

One. Two. Three… She followed the directions, and Sango didn't say a word as if understanding that talking would throw Kagome's concentration. Looking pale and shaky, her friend went into the bathroom and Kagome hoped she was okay.

 

“Stop.”

 

“Fifteen beats.”

 

“That's great. Sesshomaru's normal pulse is sixty per minute and we timed him for fifteen seconds.”

 

Sango came back from the bathroom, skirted around the dead body with a look of distaste and wariness and joined Kagome. “Sango is putting a damp rag over Sesshomaru's forehead. Okay?”

 

“That's fine. Just don't move him.”

 

Despite her worry, Kagome snorted. “That's not likely Doc. If you'd ever seen the man, you'd know moving him would take a crane.”

 

“I heard that.” Sesshomaru's eyes fluttered open.

 

“Kincaid, he spoke!” Kagome yelled with joy.

“Now if I could just get you too listen,” Sesshomaru jested and reached for the phone. He'd never seen that phone before, but he had no difficulty finding the speaker setting. “I just went out for a few seconds, boss. Pressure on the carotid artery will do that.”

 

“You don't sound like yourself yet,” Kincaid noted.

 

“Throat's a little sire.”

 

“Do you have a headache?” the doc asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Fuzzy vision?”

 

“No. In fact I'm gazing up at the most beautiful—“

 

“Any nausea?”

 

“No. I'm fine,” he insisted.

 

“He sounds normal to me.” Kincaid sounded relived.

 

“Sesshomaru, reach behind your head and gently touch your neck,” the doctor directed. “Any shape pain? Tenderness or swelling?”

 

“Nope. I don't think I hit my head, doc. I was already on the floor when I blacked out.”

 

“Understood. Okay, I'm clearing you to roll to your side.”

 

Sesshomaru rolled. “I'm good to go.”

 

“Easy. I don't want you to risk falling and blacking out again by getting up too fast. Slowly sit up.”

 

Sesshomaru followed the doctor's directions and Kagome braced herself to catch his head if he suddenly slumped. “I'm sitting up. Oh, sh—“

 

“What's wrong?” Megan asked, the doctor's tone sharp. “Is his neck floppy? Is he vomiting? Did he pass out? Someone talk to me,” she demanded.

 

“I'd answer if you'd let me get a word in edgewise,” Sesshomaru almost snarled. “I'm okay, Doc. My expletive was because I finally got a look at my assailant's face.”

 

“You know him?” Kincaid astutely guessed.

 

“Yeah. He's an old army buddy, Nate Ryson. We went through…training together. When he washed out, he threatened to get even with me, but I always thought in an empty threat.”

 

Kagome slumped against the wall, unable to keep her escalating anger from erupting. “Are you saying Hojo didn't send this guy after us?”

 

“I'll get the lowdown on any connections between Hojo and your Mr. Ryson and get back to you,” Kincaid said. “Megan, are we done here?”

 

“Yes. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning, Sesshomaru.”

 

“Thanks, Doc.”

 

“What about Nate's body?” Sango asked.

 

“I'll send someone over to clean up,” Kincaid promised, “and pay for all the damages to your premises, or course.”

 

Sango looked from Sesshomaru Kagome. “We need to call the cops. I don't want to be accused of being an accessory to murder.”

 

Sesshomaru tried to reassure her. “The Shey Group will take care of everything—“

 

“That's not good enough.”

 

“Sango.” Kagome's sharp tone caught her friend's attention. “Let them handle this their way.”

 

Sango frowned. “You sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Feeling as if her life were unravelling, Kagome made her tone confident. She didn't want Sango to have to deal with their mess. But she didn't know what to think. Just when Sesshomaru had finally convinced her that Hojo was a traitor and a murderer, she learned they might have been totally off base.

 

But it was also possible that Kagome had been in danger only because she'd been with Sesshomaru. If Nate had come after Sesshomaru on some personal vendetta, she'd simply been in the wrong place, with the wrong person at the wrong time. Nate hadn't cared about shooting her—only Sesshomaru.

 

One thing she knew for sure. Whether Hojo was connected to Nate in someway—the wedding was off. She couldn't have ever truly loved Hojo if Sesshomaru could put this many doubts in her mind. True love required one to believe in their person—no matter what.

 

If Sesshomaru had told Kagome that Sango, rather then Hojo, had been a traitor, no way would she have believed him. About Sango, Sesshomaru could have shown her documents, and she'd have believed them to be forged. He could have shown her a film, and she would have figured it was Hollywood magic. She believed in Sango one hundred percent—but that was not the situation with Hojo. So marrying him would have been a huge mistake.

 

However, she wasn't as sure what to think about Sesshomaru and the Shey Group. Kagome stared at Sesshomaru, wondering what the hell was going on, because her ex-fiancé cure hadn't been the one chasing or attempting to kill then as she'd assumed.

 

Sesshomaru shoved to his feet. He didn't wince, but lumbered to stand in a manner that struck her as more painful then he was admitting. Whether that pain was due to injuries or to finding out that he might have kidnapped her for no good reason, she couldn't tell.

 

Despite his discomfort, his tone remained even, his thoughts logical. “Ryker Stevens is Kincaid's computer whiz. He'll run a diagnosis that will trace the lifetime whereabouts of Hojo and Nate, searching places they might have met. From preschool to collage frat houses to training in the service—if they served together, Ryker's program will find a connection.”

 

“And if he doesn't find a connection?” Sango asked.

 

Sesshomaru leaned against the wall nit his color remained good, his stance steady. “Lack of a connection either means there isn't one…or they covered their tracks with extraordinary care.”

 

The ring of the doorbell interrupted their conversation. Sesshomaru headed down the hall, his pace deliberate but even. “I'll get it. It's probably the cleanup crew. Don't touch anything.”

 

As if they'd touch the dead body. When she so much as glance at it, Kagome's stomach churned. And she saw questions in Sango's eyes and appreciated that she didn't ask them. “Sango, I'm so sorry to have brought this kind of trouble with me.”

 

“It's not your fault.” Her face pale, Sango glanced from the dead man to the Shey Group's team of forensic specialists entering her home. “All the same, I think I'll spend the night with my folks. Stay the night here if you want. Lock up when you leave.”

 

“You sure?” Kagome didn't want to kick her friend out of her home. But the farther Sango was away from them, the safer she would be since she'd been with Sesshomaru, the chopper had crashed, someone had shot at them and an assassin had come after Sesshomaru. The farther her friend was away from her, the safer she would be.

 

“Very sure?” Sango gave her a hard, quick hug. “I won't say anything to Hojo or anyone else—until you give me the word.”

 

“Thanks, Sango.” Kagome embraced Sango in return, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, her throat clogged around a lump of emoting. Sango had stood by her, done as she asked and had held up like the true friend she'd needed.

 

Before Sango departed, Kagome gave her friend their new cell phone number, but still, a loneliness crept over Kagome and chilled her despite the warm air flowing into the penthouse through the window Nate had broken. The men who had arrived to remove the body asked her surprisingly few questions, but she assumed Sesshomaru had filled them in and that Kincaid had pulled strings because the crime scene and forensics investigators finished and departed with the body in short order, leaving Kagome alone with Sesshomaru.

 

He'd poured her glass of wine but he drank bottled water. “Go ahead. You deserve to take the edge off.”

 

“What about you?” She sipped, appreciating first the fragrant bouquet, then the rich heat that warmed a trail down her throat.

 

“Alcohol and head injuries don't mix.”

 

She frowned at him. “You told the doc that tour head was fine.”

 

He nodded, his lips pulling upward into a grin. “Nothing a good night's sleep and a few aspirin won't cure.”

 

He hadn't been completely truthful with the doctor, and Kagome suspected there was much more to the story between him and Nate that he also hadn't revealed. “Sesshomaru?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you think Hojo hired Nate to kill you?”

 

“No.”

 

Sesshomaru's blunt shocked her, especially because it didn't serve his purpose to sway her to his side. Certain he'd responded honestly, she sipped her wine and eyed him over the brim. His color had return, his eyes appeared focused, yet reserved, and she wondered exactly what was going through his mind. “Why don't you think there's a connection between the two men?”

 

“It's unlikely Hojo just happened to hire a man who hated me.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” She was amazed at how Sesshomaru analyzed the motivation from other people's point of view. But then, he'd always seemed to read her quite well, too, so she shouldn't have been all that surprised.

 

“Nate had the training to sabotage the chopper,” Sesshomaru elaborated. “He also hated me with a fervor few people would understand. But I doubt Hojo hired Nate to do his dirty work. However, Ryker's programs have proved me wrong before. Still, even with Hojo's FBI resources, it's unlikely he was on to our interest in him until after we interrupted your wedding.”

 

“No matter what happens, I want to thank you for that.”

 

Sesshomaru's eyes widened. “I don't understand.”

 

She sensed he'd been honest with her and, wanting to reciprocate, looked him straight in the eyes. “We weren't right for each other.”

 

“You were going to marry him.” Sesshomaru's tone was gentle, curious and husky. And his gaze was warm and compassionate, yet flickered with questions he didn't ask.

 

“After my mother's death, I was grieving. Coming so close to dying, when that chopper went down, shocked me to my senses. If I'd loved Hojo enough, I wouldn't have believed he could betray his country. But I think he's guilty…” She swallowed back the last of her disappointment. “Why did Nate hate you enough to try and kill you?”

 

“Much of the story's details are classified.” Sesshomaru hesitated, then offered, “But I can fill you in, if you don't care about the particulars.”

 

Knowing his story would help distract her from her sadness over the wedding that would never be, she nodded. She'd appreciate almost any story that would divert her thoughts from how close she'd come to making a bad mistake with Hojo. “Tell me what you can.”

 

Sesshomaru closed his eyes for a moment as if recalling the moment, then opened them and began to speck in a well-modulated tone that always made whatever he said interesting. “We were overseas, competing and training for a mission.”

 

“Competing?”

 

“Only the best would be chosen. Life was Spartan, downright severe. If there were two ways to accomplish a training task, an easy way and a hard way, we always took the hard way. We didn't take shortcuts. We always gave total effort. We expected the most of ourselves and the men who were with us. Out lives depended on one another and mostly we trusted one another.”

 

“I suppose since I haven't lived in those conditions I can't really understand.” She had no difficulty imaging Sesshomaru and his steady strength being an asset to whatever group he joined. Men would sense his honesty and be drawn to it as she was.

 

“Life was do difficult that most men failed to complete the first week, and the instructors kept weeding out those who didn't stay on task. We trained on one-quarter rations with less then thirty minutes of sleep a day and fifty-mile marches over harsh terrain, each man carrying an LBE.”

 

“LBE?”

“Load-bearing equipment. It consists of a pistol belt in a shoulder harness to which is attached an assortment of gear. A magazine, first-aid pouches, strobe light, compass, knife or bayonet, plus other assorted paraphernalia.”

 

“It's heavy?”

 

He nodded. “Especially in the heat or rain and trudging through the muck. After a mind-numbing mouth of training, one day was particularly exhausting. We'd been moving hard through the night while it was cool, before the sun came up to suck the moisture from our bodies. We anticipated that with sunup, we'd take a rest, eat a few bites, get a chance to change our socks. We were all hungry, low on sleep, moving on our last reserves of energy. Tempers were frayed and tattered. I concentrated on simply putting one foot in front of the other, determined not to drop out—because we could quit at any time. All we had to do was say `enough.' And in every way possible they encouraged us to quit. Once while out stomachs growled with hunger, they marched us past steaks grilling on the barbecues. Even now—at the memory, my mouth salivates.”

 

“It sounds like torture.” She didn't understand that kind of dedication and willpower on anything but an intellectual level. Nevertheless, she could admire the kind of man it would take to voluntarily put himself through those kinds of gruelling exercises. One thing was very clear to her, no matter how much he was telling her, she was just as sure he'd left out much more.

 

“It's necessary to weed out the men who aren't suited for that kind of work.”

 

“Only the strong survive?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So what happened?”

 

“We finally reached the end of the march—and I doubt I could have taken another ten steps. When they said stop, I stopped and simply sat down where I was. Instead of thirty minutes of rest that were nowhere near enough time to recover, five minutes later, we were instructed to pick up our new orders for the day. I barely found the stench to push back to my feet. My bones ached, my muscles didn't want to obey my mind. But somehow I stood and stumbled over to receive my new orders, praying I could find the strange to get through one more hour. And then I read the orders—that I had passed the final test. Me and the men around me broke into loud laughter. It was a celebration of relief, accomplishment and success.”

 

“And Nate?”

 

“Nate quit—right before he picked up the order that he thought would send him on another marsh. Poor bastured. He made it through weeks of hunger and training and sleepless nights. He finished all the hard parts. And then he caved.”

 

She imagined Nate would be ashamed and frustrated. “But why did he blame you?”

 

“He thought we were laughing at him. I was so damn tired, I hadn't even realized he'd quit until he attacked me.” Sesshomaru rubbed the bump on the bridge of his nose. “His first punch caught me off guard. He broke me nose, and he was what the Army would have called dishonourably discharged from our unit. Only traitors attack a man in their unit. So, not only did he fail to make the special team, he was kicked out of our group. But I never suspected he'd held a grudge all these years.”

 

Sesshomaru's story helped her understand the kind of man he was. Although the man hadn't been after her, Sesshomaru had believed he meant her harm and he hadn't hesitated to risk his life to protect her. From the deliberate tilt of his head and the dark bruises on his neck, she knew his neck must be sore as hell, but he hadn't spoken a word of complaint. After all he'd done today, the least she could do was to try to ease his pain. Very deliberately she set down her glass of wine, strode behind where he sat on the sofa and placed her hands on his shoulders.

 

He tilted his head back, locked gazes with her, his tone one of lazy challenge. “What do you think you're doing?”

 

A/N that was a long chapter. Probably the longest I will ever write. Well hoped you liked the chapter. Plz review.