Dream Warrior Read Free

lost the eye completely to whatever injury had caused it.
    Yet it in no way detracted from his handsomeness. If anything, it added to it and made his face all the more rugged. His jet-black hair was sweaty and curled slightly around a face that was chiseled from steel and dusted with dark whiskers.
    Fierce power emanated from every inch of him. Strong and lethal, it said he should be on a battlefield, sword in hand, killing and maiming his enemies, not stuck in a garage, working on cars.
    He was everything she’d heard and more.
    May the gods help them …
    If he didn’t kill the two of them, she’d be stunned.
    Phobos glanced at Delphine over his shoulder. “He is definitely here.”
    The secretary frowned as she hung up the phone and saw Cratus through the window. “You’re looking for Jericho?”
    Phobos faced her. “You mean Cratus.”
    She pointed at the man Delphine had been ogling. “That’s Jericho Davis. He’s only been here a couple of weeks. Is he in trouble with the law or something? If you’re here to serve process—”
    â€œNo. Nothing like that.” Phobos gave her an almost charming smile. “We’re old friends.”
    She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Well, if his name isn’t Jericho Davis, we need to know. Landry is a stickler about his people toeing the line. We don’t take in convicts or riffraff here. This is a respectable business, and we intend to keep it that way.”
    Phobos held his hands up. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s not a felon. I just need to talk to him for a minute.”
    The secretary snorted. “I thought you said you knew him.”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œThen how are you going to talk to a man who’s mute?”
    Phobos snapped his attention to Delphine, who was as shocked as he was by that disclosure.
    Surely Zeus wouldn’t have been that cruel …
    What was she? Insane? Of course he would.
    Sick at the thought, Delphine looked back to where “Jericho” had his head under the hood of another car. What exactly had been done to him? Zeus had taken his godhood, his life and most likely his voice and eye.
    Getting his help was looking less and less likely by the second.
    â€œYou stay here,” Phobos said as he put his hand on the knob of the door that led from the office to the garage.
    No problem there. She’d rather confront a rabid lion than try to gain a favor from a man the gods had screwed over so badly. Why on earth or beyond would this man ever help them?
    Hoping for the best, she walked to the window to watch Phobos. She closed her eyes and opened herself up to the ether so that she could hear their conversation.
    The shop was loud with mechanical noises and a radio playing “Live Your Life” by T.I. Several of the men were chatting and joking while they worked. One was singing along, off-key, while he added air to the tires of a red Jeep.
    Phobos paused beside the white Intrepid where Cratus stood.
    Cratus glanced up, and his face froze an instant before he looked back down and continued working.
    Phobos stepped closer. “We need to talk.”
    Cratus ignored him.
    â€œCratus—”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re doing in here,” an older man in a coverall matching Cratus’s said as he stopped beside Phobos, “but you’re wasting your time trying to talk to old Jericho there. Boy can’t speak.” The man shook his head. “Not that he needs to. The way he works on a car is magic.” The man looked at the others and laughed. “Trying to talk to Jericho…” More laughter joined his before he walked off to work on the Jeep where the man was singing.
    â€œJericho,” Phobos tried again. “Please give me one minute of your time.”
    If looks could kill, Phobos would be a distant memory. Jericho flipped the wrench in his hand before he walked over to