Part 4

Sara and Ian went for a walk on the beach after lunch. The wind was chilly, but the sun was shining and they had the beach to themselves.

Sara leaned her head on Ian�s shoulder. "What else did you miss out on as a kid?"

Ian shrugged. "I don�t know. Lots of things, I guess."

"Like what?"

"It does not matter."

"But it does to me. Name one thing you wish you could have done that you never had a chance to."

Ian looked at Sara�s head resting on his shoulder and planted a kiss a top it. "You are a wonder, did you know that?"

Sara wrapped her arms around Ian a little tighter. "I wish I could change it all for you, give you a normal childhood."

Ian stopped walking and held Sara facing him. "If that were the case, I may have never met you. I gladly bear the price now that I have you." His dark eyes roamed over Sara�s face, bottomless pools she felt she might drown in.

"Let�s go out tonight. It�s our last night here and I want us to enjoy it. We�ll have to come back relatively early of course though." She slid her hand up inside his sweater.

"If that is what you desire. I would do anything for you."

Sara�s face sobered. "I�ve been wanting to ask you something," she hesitated, "where did these scars come from?" Her fingers traced across one of the scars on his back.

"They are reminders of my failures." Ian�s face darkened and he began to pull away, emotional pain and shame showing on his face.

"Ian . . . I�m sorry. I shouldn�t have asked."

Ian stared at the sand. "My life with Irons, boarding school, military training . . . they all honed me for what I was to become. I can not blame you for being disgusted, Sara."

Sara�s eyebrows shot up. "Disgusted? Where did you get that notion? I�ve a few scars too, you know"

A small smile came across Ian�s lips as he thought of Sara�s body, and then faded again as he lifted a hand to brush aside the collar of Sara�s shirt revealing the overlapping circles on her chest, the mark of the Witchblade. He traced it with a gloved fingertip. He pulled his hand away wordlessly.

They walked in silence, heading back for the bungalow.

The evening found Sara and Ian at a local bar. Since it was off season it wasn�t terribly crowded, which was nice. They sat in a booth, Sara drinking a beer and Ian sipping a soda. Mellow blues tunes played from a hidden sound system and a few couples swayed back and forth on the dance floor.

"You�re sure you don�t want a beer?"

Ian nodded. "It would interfere with my ability to protect you."

Sara sighed and then smiled at Ian. "All right then, can we at least enjoy a dance?"

Ian lowered his gaze and stared at the table as he shifted in his seat. He twisted the ring on his gloved forefinger absent-mindedly. "I . . .I�ve never really . . " he shrugged slightly.

Sara wasn�t about to take no for an answer. "All you have to do is move with me, it�s a slow song. Not enough people in here to notice if we don�t get it perfect first try." She smiled warmly at him.

Ian stood and held out his hand for Sara. "May I have this dance?"

Sara beamed up at him and accepted his hand, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

After a moment of awkwardness, they swayed in unison to the music, Sara nuzzling into Ian�s neck.

He whispered to her as he held her gently, "You know it�s a good thing we didn�t go to one of those techno clubs or anything."

Sara looked at him questioningly, "Why not?"

"Seizures."

"You�re epileptic? Why didn�t you say something sooner?"

"No, it�s not that. It has to do with my military background. I have to be careful of certain frequencies of sound and light."

"Thanks for the warning," Sara poked him in the ribs, "I�ll make sure that the guys at the precinct don�t throw you a belated bachelor party at a strip club or anything."

Ian laughed lightly, kissing Sara on the forehead as the song ended. An up tempo song began playing and he led her back to their booth.

"No up for dancing faster?" Sara grinned at him.

Ian shook his head, smiling.

At the bar a man sat watching the couple, smiling slightly. His stringy blond hair and shabby clothes allowing him to blend in with the locals, he slid out unnoticed.

Part 5

Kenneth Irons surveyed the completed work on the guest house. The work was impeccable, even knowing where to look he had a hard time spotting the cameras and even a more difficult time seeing the tiny microphones.

Only one tiny detail to take care of before Miss Pezzini returned to town tomorrow. He flipped open his telephone and began to dial.

Tommy Gallo looked up as one of his men interrupted him. He wore an annoyed look on his face, distracting him while he was viewing the game on TV really irked him.

"Well what is it?� He snapped.

"A Mr. Kenneth Irons on the phone for you, Mr. Gallo."

Gallo raised an eyebrow. Well, he certainly hadn�t been expecting this. He answered the phone, wondering what Irons had forgotten to tell him about the Rialto.

As Gallo listened to what Irons had to say a slow malicious smile spread across his face.

Jake McCartey jimmied the lock on Sara�s door and quietly slipped inside. Sara would be home tomorrow, if he was going to do this better go ahead and get it done. He sighed heavily and began a cursory search of her apartment.

Jake�s initial search turned up nothing that would link Sara to the White Bulls. Maybe he was wrong. She seemed like such a loner, the perfect candidate for Bulls membership. What the hell was the deal with this rush marriage, anyway? He had heard nothing about her even dating anyone, let alone serious about anyone. Jake furrowed his brow and sat on Sara�s couch with one of her photo albums in his hands.

Sara and Ian left the bar relatively early. In the car on the way back to the bungalow Sara glanced out the window and then looked over to Ian, "I must be crazy."

Ian glanced away from the road to look at her for a moment. "And why do you say that?"

"I�ve got a dare for you."

"Sounds like I should worry."

Sara grinned, "Probably. Turn around. We passed a place back there that looked interesting."

"I have a feeling I�m going to regret this, " Ian laughed, "but OK."

Sara pointed out the building she had seen and Ian parked the car. He looked over at her sitting in the passenger seat and took note of her mischievous grin. "A dare for me, you say?"

Sara nodded. "Well for both of us really. I�ve always thought about it, just never had the guts before."

The neon sign in the window cast a reddish glow over the interior of the car.

Ian echoed Sara�s earlier words, "I must be crazy." He opened the car door and stepped out the neon sign�s message reflected on the door�s window. Tattoo.

Jake poured through the photo album, reading the captions written in Sara�s neat hand. Sara and Maria. Jim Pezzini. Joe Siri and Sara in her dress uniform. Sara graduating the academy. A first place ribbon tucked in among the pages. More pictures of Sara. Sara in high school. Danny and his family. Jake couldn�t help but notice the lack of pictures of Sara and boyfriends. He closed the photo album and put it on the table, rubbing his eyes.

Jake stood and put the photo album back where he had found it. He went to the closet and began methodically going through it. Nothing in the pockets of the garments on hangers. Shoes in the bottom of the closet neatly organized. Think what he may of Sara, at least she was organized. He checked the dresser next. Tee shirts neatly folded in one drawer. Undergarments in the next. Jake blushed as he pushed the silky fabric to the side to see if anything was resting on the bottom of the drawer beneath it. He stopped when his fingers brushed against something hard. He pulled the object out and examined it. An ankle sheath for a knife. Interesting. Military issue. He tucked the holster back into the draw, rearranging things as he had found them, a frown on his face. Odd, but he supposed it could have come from a surplus store. Why keep it with her undies though? He shrugged and shut the drawer. On to the bathroom. The medicine cabinet. Not much here either. No prescription drugs, just some aspirin and basic first aid stuff. A tube of makeup of some sort. Nothing revealing. Jake closed the medicine cabinet and started to head out of the bathroom when a scrap of paper on the floor caught his eye. It was between the counter and the wastebasket, the corner of it just barely sticking out. He leaned over and picked it up, scanning over it.

Sara,
Please remove the Witchblade from your wrist and leave it here in your apartment in a safe place. There is someone who might be able to sense parts of our conversation otherwise. If safety is a concern you may feel free to search me for weapons and hold me at gunpoint until our conversation is over. I realize you have very little knowledge of me at this point and I would not blame you in the least for being concerned. I assure you, however, that your safety is of utmost concern to me.

Ian

Well, well. What have we here? Jake studied the note. It was on fine stationery, the handwriting elegant. Ian. Who was Ian? What the hell was the Witchblade? This sounded like some sort of mystic mumbo jumbo. Jake pocketed the note. He opened the door intent on heading out. The acrid smell of smoke immediately hit his senses, a blinding greasy black cloud and heat rose up to meet him.