“Okay, we’re burning moonlight.”
I had the choice of sitting on Arnow or having Price lift her so I could slide under her. I chose the latter, though I tipped her so that her head rested on the console between our two seats. It was like holding a giant floppy Barbie. Her body held no tension. Within a few minutes, she started sliding down to the floor. I tried to hold her up, but couldn’t. She folded down until her head rested on her knees.
We entered the posh outer neighborhoods of the Rim. It was quiet here, and well lit. The road was clear and dry, courtesy of magic. Price drove as straight a path as he could to get to Savannah’s. It still took us a good forty-five minutes to get to the first roadblocks. I couldn’t tell who’d put them up. Maybe the cops, maybe Gregg, maybe somebody else.
I called up my magic and formed the null ring around us, leaving ample room in the center for Price to do his thing. Luckily I could aim the null energy outward, or we’d have been screwed.
“When do you want to start your part of the floorshow?” I asked Price. I’d already called Taylor to let her know which gate we would be heading for. She promised to be ready to let us in.
“Now.”
I’d sort of expected a gradual rise of wind picking up snow until we were at the center of another tornado. Instead, all around us drifts of snow shot into the air and hung there. I could see shadows of buildings and trees through the icy curtain.
“They can still see us.”
“I’m not done.”
“You might want to get on that.”
“Don’t tell me—you’re hungry.”
“As a matter of fact . . .”
“I’ve never met a woman who eats like you do.”
“You mean like a horse. I have to maintain my voluptuous curves.” I fluttered my lashes at him.
Price leered back, his gaze dropping to my chest. “I do love your curves.”
“Then don’t complain about how much I eat.”
“I’m not complaining about how much you eat. I’m complaining about how often you need to be fed.”
“I’d eat less if I used fewer calories.” I tapped my lower lip thoughtfully. “Maybe I should give up sex. That would cut out an extra breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day,” I mused.
“Never mind. I’ll set up a buffet in the bedroom if you want.”
“I thought you might say something like that.”
By this time, the wind had pulled more snow up into the air, and it whirled around us in a slow, thick current. I could no longer see anything beyond us. He started driving again.
“Don’t go too fast,” I warned. “I don’t know if I can maintain the field if you do.”
“Copy that.”
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, pushing my magic as far as I could. The more margin we had where magic didn’t work, the safer we would be. So long as nobody lobbed an RPG at us.
The minutes ticked past. I’d started pushing my feet hard against the floor. My fingernails cut half-moons into my palms. I began to pant, despite my efforts to keep my struggle a secret.
“You okay?”
“Keep driving.”
He reached over and pulled my hand out of my pocket and enveloped it in his. I held on to him with all my strength.
He started to speed up, and I felt my control slipping.
“Too fast.”
Immediately he slowed again, but now he began a muttered chant of invectives with the word fuck holding a starring role in most of them.
“Text your sister,” he said finally, after we made several turns. I had already prepared the message. All I had to do was hit Send. I did. A couple of seconds later, I got her reply.
“It’s a go.”
“Hold on.”
Price floored it. We plunged through the slow-moving wall of snow. At that speed, I couldn’t hold my power. I let it go and slumped against the window, closing my eyes. I couldn’t have opened them if I wanted to.
We skidded and swerved and sped even faster. The Nissan jolted over something. I jounced a good eight inches off the seat, my teeth clacking together as I landed. Price’s hand came across my chest and pushed me back in a traditional momma seat belt. His hand stayed there as we went over several more bumps. Curbs maybe.
“Do you know where you’re going?” The snow hid everything beyond the hood.
“I’m taking a shortcut.”
Of course he was.
We humped and jerked across bushes. I heard the screech and scrape of branches and twigs against the doors as the front end of the Nissan rose up and plunged back down. I braced my free hand on the dashboard and wondered if it was too late to put on my seat belt.
We bogged down a little in deep snow, the tires spinning with a high-pitched whine. The SUV lurched and lifted off the ground, floating forward a few feet before dropping back down onto a road surface.
Price hit the gas again, and we sped forward. “Almost there.”
I could have cheered.
Two minutes later, the SUV skidded to a stop. “You can relax now,” Price said, looking at me with haggard eyes.
“I may never relax again.”
“Try watching your girlfriend die in front of you.”
I’d forgotten about that. Well, not so much forgotten as decided not to remember.
“Try watching your boyfriend get shot and try to bleed out in front of you.”
Technically, he hadn’t been my boyfriend when Savannah had shot him and used him to bait Touray into turning over the Kensington artifacts. We’d slept together, but I’d told him I wasn’t interested that same night. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I realized how stupid I’d been. Of course, my realization came because someone had bombed his brother’s place and Price had been caught up in it. Luckily, he’d only been slightly injured.
Our whole relationship was full of near-death experiences. “The sex is worth it.”
“Worth what?”
Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. I didn’t get a chance to answer. The doors were yanked open, and Leo pulled me out of the car and hugged me. I hugged him back hard.
After a moment, he pushed me away to look me over. The snowstorm that Price had created had cleared, and lights shone around us.
“You look like shit.”
“Appropriate, since I feel like shit.”
He wrinkled his nose. “What is that stench?”
“Also shit. And some piss and vomit.”
I didn’t get to say much else. I got shoved aside as the Seedy Seven came running, along with a crowd of other people I assumed were family, or maybe bodyguards. I saw Leo pull Arnow out of the front seat and carry her inside.
I looked for Taylor, but didn’t see her. Jamie stood on the other side of the vehicle, talking to Price. Getting the lowdown on our adventure, no doubt. We hadn’t brought Matthew back with us. We didn’t have room for him. We’d left him where we’d cuffed him, closing the barred door and pushing a refrigerator in front of it to keep him from escaping. Taylor had promised to send someone to retrieve him. If she’d sent a traveller, then he’d already arrived.
I yawned. I needed a bathroom and something to eat and a bed. I edged around the crowd toward the door. My legs were pudding. I managed about a dozen steps before I decided I’d better sit down before I fell down.
I found a low wall piled with snow and dropped onto it. I may have dozed off. Before I knew it, Price found me. He picked me up in his arms without saying a word, then carried me toward the house. Mansion. Whatever.
Right before we got there, we heard gunshots and shattering glass. Taylor screamed, and a body thumped onto the roof of the Nissan, collapsing it. A hail of glass pattered down after.
Price swung a
round. I started to kick myself free of his arms and then froze as I saw who had fallen and now lay twisted and bleeding on the Nissan’s caved-in roof.
Touray.
Chapter 29
Gregg
GREGG’S HAND ACHED and body throbbed with unsatisfied desire that flamed higher as the brain jockey stoked it. Encouragement to cooperate, but it could be a double-edged sword. Gregg could use it to conceal his thoughts, if he could keep them deep enough.
Smug laughter. Better men than you have tried. Better women, too.
As if to both taunt and challenge him, the brain jockey dumped an avalanche of pornographic images featuring Taylor into Gregg’s mind. Her naked on his bed, legs spread, her fingers buried inside herself. On her knees, her breasts hanging, her ass begging for attention. On the floor looking up at him, her tongue sliding out of her mouth as she took his cock between her lips.
The images looped endlessly. He couldn’t shut them off no matter how hard he tried. His cock was stone hard, though he didn’t know if the lust was real or stimulated by the brain jockey. He could barely move, it hurt so much.
You see? I have no need to worry that you are disguising your thoughts from me. I control you entirely. Now go get her.
Before long Gregg found himself returning to the war room to watch Taylor some more. He couldn’t stop himself. He wanted her beyond reason. What before had been attraction had turned to a raging insanity of desire, thanks to the fucker in his head. Lust overtook his mind until he could think of nothing but having her in a dozen different ways.
Her phone pinged, and she answered it. Gregg could see her body tense at whatever she heard. He moved closer, telling himself he just wanted to know what had captivated her, but that was a lie. He couldn’t keep himself away from her lush body any longer, not with the mind jockey stoking his lust.
She hung up and snapped out several orders. Her ever-present shadow—Dalton—nodded and jogged out the door.
“They’re coming in,” she announced, facing the table of Savannah’s lieutenants.
Chairs scraped as everyone boiled into action. In moments, the group had vanished out the door. Taylor followed more slowly, typing a text as she went.
Excitement flooded him. This was his chance.
Gregg waited until she went through the door. Outside was a smaller room filled with furniture, three fireplaces, and a small stage at one end holding a piano with room for other musicians. Taylor hustled across, nodding to several people who loitered within. Then she headed down the curving marble stairway. She’d gone down a dozen steps and was momentarily out of sight of anybody above or below. Gregg swooped in and snatched her, pulling her into dreamspace.
He took her upstairs to a fourth-floor bedroom, lavishly appointed in a French country style. He laid her on the bed nearest the bay window overlooking the courtyard. Travelling was disconcerting to those without the talent and often resulted in disorientation and sometimes unconsciousness. It usually took a few minutes for passengers to reorient themselves.
Taylor wasn’t quite out cold, but she had gone limp, her eyes bleary and confused.
Gregg watched her, his muscles knotting. Every primal instinct told him to strip her clothes off. He fought the urge. He was no rapist. He wanted her with an unholy ferocity, but he wanted her willing and eager.
A little petting wouldn’t hurt.
That damned voice. Gregg lost the war with the pressure in his head and glided a hand up her thigh, over her hip and stomach to her breasts, and cupped one, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her nipple. It puckered into a tight peak. He heard himself moan as his balls tightened in response. He almost came in his pants. Abruptly he yanked his hand away.
Just in time.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was a rough whisper.
“I want you,” he said. “I’ve wanted inside you since the first moment I saw you.”
Taylor sucked in a sharp breath. “What’s wrong with you? We’re in the middle of a turf war. You’re the enemy and suddenly you’re so horny for me you’d risk getting caught to drag me off?”
He grimaced. “Something like that.” He kept his mind focused on her and only her. Unable to resist, he bent and put his mouth to hers, teasing her lips with his tongue, tasting her lush mouth.
She drew back. “We can’t do this.”
“I disagree.” He kissed her again, and this time her mouth opened for him. He swept his tongue inside, tasting, feasting. His body shuddered, and he moaned low in his throat.
She twisted her head away. “This is a really bad idea. It’s wrong.”
“Why?” Gregg kissed up her jaw and nibbled at her ear, sucking gently on the lobe, feeling waves of smug satisfaction from his brain jockey and hating him with every last scrap of his tormented soul. “You want me, too,” he murmured, covering her breast again. “Don’t you?”
Before she could answer, he kissed her again. This time it lasted longer. This time she met him with a bold thrust of her tongue. He sucked on it. She answered his passion, sliding her hands around his head as if to keep him from pulling away. He broke the kiss, his lips lightly grazing hers. “You can’t lie. You want me, too.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck you.”
He smiled at her, eyes heavy with desire. This felt good. Right even. He’d not lied when he told her he’d wanted her. “Why not?”
“Because this is insane. Price and Riley are on the way right now, and anyway, this doesn’t make any sense. This isn’t you. You’re cold as ice and there’s no way you’d want to have a little seduction trip with me while waging war. So either you’ve flipped your lid, or you’re up to something. What’s your game?”
She shoved him back, jumping up beside the bed and glaring at him.
Gregg rose to face her. The mind jockey hadn’t expected a return of her resistance. But then, the bastard didn’t know Taylor the way he did. Gregg felt him—her?—regrouping, even as his lust spiked again. Taylor tensed, her feet apart in a fighting stance. He leaned against the tall bedpost to show her he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t here to force her. He wanted to seduce her. He wanted her willing.
I’ll let you try, but if you can’t get her naked on the bed in the next two minutes, then you’ll take her, willing or not. She’ll be the last woman you’ll have for a long time, so use her well. Don’t waste your time with her.
The voice seared through his brain like white lightning.
“Life is short,” Gregg said by way of answering Taylor’s question, continuing on the path he’d set for himself and refusing to acknowledge the voice in his head. “It’s been made suddenly very clear to me how short.”
She snorted. “So you decided you’d better hustle in here and get your rocks off with me? Right in the middle of a turf war? Please, bitch. I’m so not that stupid.”
He loved her mouth. So tough, so lush. He couldn’t wait to have her lips on him. He said so, watching as pink stained her cheeks.
He took a chance and stepped closer, his voice turning gravelly with hunger. “You don’t think you’d be on the top of my list of things I don’t want to miss if I die?”
She frowned. The pink faded. “When pigs fly. Anyway, you aren’t the type to freak out over a near-death fright or whatever’s happened to you. The only explanation that makes any sense is that you’re playing me. Why?”
He sidled closer and shook his head. “I could have my pick of women, but you’re the one that haunts my dreams. I always knew you were too dangerous for my own good.”
She scowled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He grinned and slid an arm around her, pulling her against him. She resisted, but he wasn’t letting her argue. He pressed his lips to hers again. She opened reluctantly to his wicked assault. He wanted her naked rig
ht then more than he wanted almost anything else in the world. He lifted his head, putting his mouth near her ear, his breathing sounding harsh in his ears. “It means you could make me change my ways,” he whispered roughly. “By the way, there’s a hit out on Cass.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, punishing pain struck. Too fucking late.
Gregg exploded into motion. With one hand, he thrust Taylor away. With the other, he drew his gun out and fired it at the window, lunging up onto the window seat and launching himself through the bullet-pocked glass. He heard Taylor scream.
Below, the courtyard was full of people surrounding an SUV. He plunged toward it, wrapped in a haze of unspeakable agony. He didn’t care. He’d won. The motherfucker in his head couldn’t use a dead man. Couldn’t make him betray everyone who trusted him.
He’d known Taylor was attracted to him. Everything he’d said to her, everything he’d done in the last ten minutes, grew from his own real desire for her. He’d never meant to act on it. He preferred his women to come without ties of any kind. Since he didn’t have a choice this time, Gregg had given in to the prodding of the brain jockey, letting his cravings for her swamp him, and disguising his real intent behind his own lust and the torrent of lascivious images the brain jockey had dumped in his mind.
The bastard had thought his control absolute, that if the lure of pleasure and threat of pain didn’t force Gregg’s unquestioning cooperation, then he’d make a puppet of Gregg. But the fucker hadn’t counted on Gregg’s fundamental and intrinsic fear of losing control of himself, of his mind. He didn’t even have to think about killing himself to escape—it was instinct.
The fucker in his head had underestimated him. Gregg might be about to die, but he’d won. He was nobody’s slave.
How do you like me now, asshole?
Chapter 30
Riley
TOURAY WASN’T DEAD, thank God. After his fall—a suicide jump, according to Taylor—I’d thought it was over. Nobody could survive that. But he’d still been breathing, albeit in bubbly, jerky gasps. The tinkers on hand had worked quickly and saved his life. He now lay in a coma in one of the bedrooms.
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