Read Hidden Talents for Free Online

when she opened the envelope in her Seattle hotel room. Not for one moment had she dreamed that Caleb would take the threat seriously.
    He had a nerve, she thought. He was a businessman, after all, a member of corporate America. Who was he to throw stones? He probably consulted for companies that dumped toxic waste into rivers. Maybe he had a wife whom he had never bothered to mention, too. Serenity winced.
    She grabbed a branch that was in her path and shoved it aside.
    A sudden tingle of awareness made her pause. She glanced to the left and saw a dark shadow materialize in the fog. A small frisson of uneasiness went through her. She swung around to face the creature that coalesced in front of her.
    The beast fixed her with a steady gaze as it padded slowly toward her. The studded steel collar around its neck glinted evilly in the gray light.
    Serenity relaxed. “Oh, hello, Styx. Where's your buddy?”
    Another rottweiller trotted forward out of the fog. He was wearing a studded steel collar similar to his companion's.
    “There you are, Charon. How's it going, pal?”
    The black-and-tan dogs made no sound as they approached. When they reached Serenity, they lifted their massive heads for a pat. Serenity scratched the animals behind their ears. “What are you guys doing, running around in the fog? You should be lying in front of a nice, warm fire. Where's Blade?”
    “Right here, Serenity.”
    Serenity turned her head at the sound of the familiar raspy drawl. The man everyone in Witt's End knew only as Blade emerged from the mists.
    He was built very much like his rottweilers; big, heavily muscled, with huge shoulders and a barrel chest. He had a large, square-jawed face, eyes the color of blue steel, and virtually no neck. Beneath his fatigue cap, his hair was cropped very close to his skull.
    Serenity assumed Blade was approximately fifty, but it was difficult to be certain. He had never volunteered any information about his age. In Witt's End there was an unwritten rule against asking questions about a person's past unless you were invited to do so.
    Blade was dressed, as usual, in camouflage gear and a pair of thick-soled, military-style boots. A variety of lethal-looking knives and assorted implements were suspended from the webbed belt slung low around his waist.
    “I see you're making your rounds, Blade.” Yesterday on the long drive home to Witt's End, Serenity had tried to envision Blade as a blackmailer. She'd abandoned the attempt almost as soon as she'd begun. She'd known Blade all of her life. He was too direct to bother with blackmail, and much too concerned with his endless conspiracy theories. Besides, he was a member of the family, one of the people who had raised her since infancy.
    “Checkin' things out,” Blade allowed.
    “In the daytime?” Serenity raised her brows. Blade usually slept during the daylight hours and did his endless sentry rounds at night.
    “Some unusual activity on the road last night. Heard a car drive off near here real late. Didn't get a look at it because of the fog.”
    “Probably just someone on his way home from visiting a friend. Jessie, perhaps.”
    “Maybe. Maybe not. Got a feeling there's somethin' about to happen. Zone agrees with me. Figure I'd better watch for the point man.”
    “Point man?”
    “There'll be one. Always is before a well-planned operation. He'll move in to do a recon job. Then he'll signal the others to go ahead with the assault.”
    “Yes, of course. The point man.”
    Blade regarded her with the same unwinking stare the rottweilers used. “What are you doing back here? You're supposed to be in Seattle workin' on your new business plans.”
    “I came back a day early,” Serenity said.
    Blade's eyes narrowed. “Everything goin' accordin' to schedule?”
    “No.” Serenity looked down at Charon, who was rubbing his head against her hand. “Things didn't work out.”
    “Does that mean you won't be openin' up that mail order shop for local