01 Surveillance Read online

  In the end, he left Blair where he was, and sat peacefully in the darkness of the motel room, staring out the window at a row of cars that hadn't moved all night.

  At two-thirty, the cellphone rang and he reached for it, flipping it open and on. "Ellison," he said quietly, feeling Sandburg waken at his voice.

  "Jim, it's Simon. We got Campbell. You're free to go."

  "Thanks. Log me out."

  "Will do. Go home and get some sleep."

  Blair's eyes fluttered open, looking up at him blearily, then trying to focus on where he was.

  "Go back to sleep, chief. Everything's under control here," Jim said softly, his right hand closing the phone, laying it aside, and then returning to Blair's forehead.

  Blair nodded, his eyes already closed, and settled back against Jim, comfortable with where he was, his fingers tightening briefly, then relaxing as he slid back to sleep.

  The instinctual behavior of a Guide with his Sentinel, Jim thought. 'I'm safe. I can rest.'

  Ellison held him close again, then smiled and shifted their positions on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, drawing the smaller man with him. Blair opened his eyes just long enough to see that everything was okay, then his body once again slid effortlessly back into contented sleep, still nestled beneath Jim's left arm.

  Jim couldn't explain why he didn't leave, why he didn't take the opportunity to go back to the loft. He just didn't want to. He wanted to stay where he was, to be part of the moment. To soak up the memories and the feelings. To let himself go for once, to forget about Jim Ellison the police detective . . . and be lost in the instinctual behavior of a Sentinel with his Guide.

  The Sentinel sat silently through the night, ever vigilant, sleep far beyond his reach, his senses heightened, his eyes watching the outside world, his ears alert to each new sound, each rustle of the wind through the leaves, his nose breathing in the scent of life beside him, and his soul anchored by the curled body in his arms.

  This is who I am.

  As the hours passed, the Sentinel watched the moon slowly crest the top of the evergreen trees and sink out of sight, distant, yet close; the wind gently tossing the long branches; the squirrel, in its nest in the tree, chittering as it settled for the night; the stars brilliant against the velvet night sky; the echo of a familiar heartbeat.

  And this is where you want to be. With me.

  His Guide stirred, and the Sentinel calmed him with a slight touch of his hand. Not yet. Go back to sleep. It's not yet morning.