by S. K. Ryder
And Dominic would cheerfully help her lock the door and hide the key.
~ ~ ~
Cassidy stared out at Vancouver Harbour sparkling in the morning sun and clutched her phone to her ear. On the call’s other end, Samantha sniffled.
“Serge never answered me when I asked him if Ryan would be okay. I should have known what that meant. I should have spoken to him, gotten him help. At the very least not let him out of my sight.”
“I’m so sorry I’m not there for you right now,” Cassidy whispered, wiping at her eyes. Francesca was out in the sitting room, waiting for her to get ready for breakfast, and this was the sort of news the woman didn’t need to hear so soon after the night’s revelations.
“Étienne is here,” Samantha said. “He’s an enormous help.”
Something about the way Samantha said his name made Cassidy smile a little despite the grim conversation.
“He was with me when we found Ryan in the hot tub this morning.” A shaky inhalation full of emotional struggle. “He slit his wrists. The note he left said he wanted to die where Natalia had died.”
Oh God, Cassidy thought, closing her eyes. The despair the man must have felt circled her like a black moon.
“When she died, he died, too. These last couple of days he was just an empty shell. Just sat and stared into space.”
Empty the way I will be empty if anything happens to Dominic. Then and there she made up her mind. Nothing and no one would keep her from going back to that cavern of horrors with him, least of all Dominic. She’d hitch a ride on that RV, even if she had to zip herself into that body bag with him. He could hardly argue during the daytime. And by sundown it would be too late.
Voices in the sitting room brought her out of her dark plotting. Jackson, their security detail, had arrived to escort them to breakfast. “I have to go, Sam. Please call me if there’s any more news.”
Cassidy splashed enough cold water onto her face to wash away the redness, finished dressing, and tied her hair into a ponytail. But when she stepped out of the bedroom, Jackson wasn’t fooled.
“What’s wrong?”
She glanced at Francesca. The pinched eyes and thin mouth betrayed a quiet storm of anxiety. “It’s been a long night for all of us,” Cassidy said, silently begging Jackson to leave it at that.
He did. “You’ll both feel better after you eat.”
“Will Garrett join us?” Francesca asked.
“He’s out getting the RV he reserved online last night. We’ll need to take off as soon as we can if we’re going to make it there by nightfall. Are you all packed?”
“Oui, I am.”
“Cassidy?”
“Sure.” Several cases and bags were lined up in the bedroom, ready for transport to a new undisclosed location. Among the planned precautions was that she and Francesca should book themselves into another hotel during the day, using cash and fake ID’s, then call in two of Isao’s younglings tonight to stand guard.
Dominic was ensconced with Isao and Kostya in Isao’s downtown lair, awaiting pickup when the RV was ready to go. She smiled to herself, considering her updated plans. As the only one who knew where the vampires were hiding—not to mention holder of the key and security codes—there was no chance that RV was leaving town without her.
“I was thinking we should try to get an appointment at a clinic for you today, my dear,” Francesca said.
“What? Why?”
“You are pregnant,” she said as if Cassidy had gone daft.
“For two weeks,” Cassidy protested. Hell, her only symptom so far was an increased appetite—for everything.
“The sooner you receive prenatal care, the better for you and the baby.”
“Good point,” Jackson seconded. “Given the circumstances, you need to keep an eye on things.” Seeing Cassidy’s irate glare, he quickly added, “But I’m sure you can wait until we get home. Ollie can set you up with her doctor.”
“Ollie?” Francesca asked.
“Olivia. My fiancée. She’s pregnant, too.”
“Merveilleux!” She clapped her hands in delight. “Cassidy, chèrie, you will have a friend to share this journey with you.”
Cassidy refrained from mentioning that she had yet to meet this Olivia. “I’m sure we’ll be besties,” she murmured.
Francesca carried on for a while longer, completely enchanted with the idea that both her son and his friend should become fathers at the same time. Within seconds she had moved on to the children growing up together, attending school together, and everyone visiting on St. Barth, the parties she would host, and the meals she would serve. Even who she would invite.
Cassidy and Jackson exchanged a look, both of them recognizing the hope the woman was latching on to, a shining hope for happier times to come to pull her out of inexplicable reality.
I should have known.
Samantha’s words, which had at first stirred only a whisper of unease in the back of Cassidy’s mind, suddenly clanged louder than a firehouse alarm bell. Serge hadn’t told Samantha about Ryan’s future because Ryan didn’t have one.
Serge had also never seen a child as a result of Dominic’s day-walking.
I should have known.
A chill raced up her arms. Her hand moved to cover her belly in a protective gesture. Should she know not to force the issue about traveling into danger with Dominic? Would she lose the child if she did? But how could she not go?
A knock at the door made her jump.
“Maintenance,” someone called from the hall.
“Time to go,” Jackson said, apparently eager for the excuse to stop the torrent of words from Francesca.
“Maintenance?” Cassidy wondered. It must be a code word Jackson and Garrett were using.
Though that didn’t sound like Garrett.
Before she could question it, Jackson had opened the door.
The guy on the other side was tall and wide and wore what could well have been the official uniform of the hotel’s maintenance staff. But instead of stating his business in an apologetic Canadian manner, he simply walked in.
And brought two friends.
Jackson put up a hand. “Just one second.”
The maintenance crew shoved Jackson aside and swarmed through the suite, tearing open doors and prodding under furniture.
“What the hell are you doing? What are you looking for?” Cassidy cried. A small part of her still clung to the idea that this was all an innocent misunderstanding.
No one bothered to reply.
Jackson grabbed the arm of the first giant through the door. “You need to leave right now, buddy.”
A meaty fist arched around toward his face. Jackson ducked and landed a solid punch in the guy’s gut. He swayed, but remained standing.
Francesca screamed.
Cassidy went mute with shock.
An attack. This was an attack. The empty eyes and single-minded pursuit of these men smacked of compulsion. They were looking for a sleeping vampire who had had the good sense not to be here today.
But that wasn’t all they were after.
Jackson was scooped up in a crushing hold that took his feet clear off the ground, and Cassidy was about to rush to his aide when a hand came down hard on her shoulder. All the practice Dominic had insisted she do of the simple martial arts moves he had taught her kicked into autopilot. She reached for the wrist and whirled around, twisting, holding nothing back. Tendons popped beneath her fingers. With a strangled cry, her would-be assailant crashed to the floor and smashed his face into the rug.
Francesca improvised a weapon from her sizeable designer bag. With ear-piercing shrieks and a flurry of French outrage, she swung it at the head of a man trying to gain control over her.
“F
ucking son of a bitch,” Jackson snarled. Somehow he had gotten out of the hold he was in and turned on the bear-man who still staggered, off balance.
The guy Cassidy had leveled crawled on the floor, only to get clocked again when Francesca’s bag-cudgel sailed past and toppled a table lamp on him. Francesca’s screams became agonized. Her attacker had her hands trapped behind her back and jerked them up high between her shoulder blades.
With a wild shriek, Cassidy vaulted onto the man’s back. Her arms snaked around the throat, her legs around the middle. She squeezed, intending murder.
Francesca, released, fell forward. Her assailant, now top-heavy with Cassidy on his back, spun around and teetered, fighting for breath. His arms waved wildly, grappling for balance.
Something thin and long glinted in his hand.
Shit.
“Drop the knife,” she shouted over a calamitous crash behind her. If that was Jackson who had just hurtled into that desk and if there were more weapons about to appear, this battle was all but over. “I said drop the fucking knife!”
He didn’t. He swung it down and back at her hips and her legs locked around his waist. Cassidy felt several hits, but no cuts or stabs. She extended the thumb on her free hand and went for the face, determined to relieve him of an eyeball to get him to drop his knife.
“Cassidy, let go,” Jackson ordered. “I’ve got this.”
Her thumb had already disappeared into a slippery socket. The man thrashed, but still didn’t relinquish the weapon. Not a knife, she noticed, but a screwdriver. And it was covered in blood as it came arcing over his shoulder and at her face.
She jerked back, out of reach. The maneuver threw them both off balance. Together they flailed, bounced off the edge of a sofa, and hit the floor with a hard thump. All his weight landed on top of her.
Cassidy’s spine shoved up to meet her sternum, exploding every molecule of air out of her body.
Jackson dragged her assailant off her. The guy clutched at his left eye, an angry snarl distorting his unshaven face. “Bitch.”
It was the last thing he said before Jackson’s fist found his jaw and sent him keeling over and away from her.
Her chest was pancake-flat and on fire. She tried to roll over. Her mouth worked like a landed fish. No air would come, not even a trickle.
“No no no no. Stay put,” Jackson said, keeping her on her back. Blood dribbled down his face. Cassidy had a good mind to add to it if he didn’t let go of her.
Francesca leaned over her, wild-eyed, a sleeve torn from her blouse, hair sticking out all around her head. “Mon Dieu. Mon Dieu, non.”
“Cassidy, can you hear me?” Jackson said, still trying to hold her down. “Do you understand?”
She nodded as she batted at his hands, opened her mouth wider, and tried to writhe her body to persuade air to seep in somehow. Her heart pounded in her head like a steel-spiked hammer. Let go of me! I can’t breathe!
“The breath will come back. Just relax. But don’t move.” His gaze flickered down her body and back up. “Whatever you do, don’t move.”
Chapter 27
Ça Suffit
Dominic knew a moment of true panic when the familiar mellow thump of Cassidy’s heart wasn’t there to coax him out of his oblivion. A muffled chorus of heartbeats and voices assailed him instead, along with a distant rumble of thunder.
Then he remembered that Cassidy’s absence was according to plan.
What was not according to plan was that when he unzipped himself from the body bag he had slipped into this morning, he was still on the bed in Isao’s private sanctuary, two other body bags tucked in beside him. No one had come during the day to collect them for the journey back to Adilla’s underground palace. He reached out for Cassidy. Had she changed her mind about letting Jackson and Garrett transport them all out of here? If she had, she had also decided to leave the area, perhaps even the city. He detected no trace of her anywhere.
The bag beside him stirred to life, and another mind wondering the same things touched his.
“Something is wrong,” Dominic said. “Gather your family.”
He had already rushed out of Isao’s immaculate, antique–stuffed condo and traveled halfway down the fire escape stairwell before Isao was awake enough to silently respond in the affirmative. Traveling the five city blocks to the Pan Pacific on foot would have been faster, but Dominic restricted himself to the Ducati and the pace of evening traffic. Finally he burst out of another stairwell and found Jackson waiting for him in the empty hallway by the door to Dominic’s suite—a door barred with yellow crime scene tape. Worse, the air was drenched in blood.
Inside his chest, his heart squeezed into a small, quivering ball. “Where is she?”
“Cassidy is in the hospital, but she’s expected to make a full recovery,” Jackson said quickly. A bandage marred his forehead near his hairline, and an antiseptic odor clung to his clothes as though he only just came from there. “If you can’t sense her, it’s because she’s doped up on pain meds, but she’ll be fine. Your mom is emotionally shaken up, but otherwise okay. She’s with Cassidy and is waiting for you.”
Dominic’s heart released just a little. “What happened? Who hurt her?”
Down the hall, the elevator dinged and a family of tourists spilled out, complete with hyperactive children.
“Let’s take this inside,” Jackson suggested, gesturing in the direction of his suite. Dominic followed, bristling with impatience and anger. The thoughts and memories he could make out from Jackson were disjointed and chaotic and full of screams that scraped his nerves.
Jackson closed the door behind them. “You should sit down.”
“Tell me—”
“Please. Sit.” The soft tone brought Dominic up short. Turmoil roiled in his friend’s tired eyes.
Dominic’s stomach turned over in slow-motion. He sat.
Jackson sat facing him. Beyond the window behind him, Vancouver glistened with a sinister new energy. Lightning flickered beyond the high-rises.
“Three men came this morning, posing as hotel maintenance workers. They were obviously looking for you. When they couldn’t find you, they tried to take Cassidy and your mother instead. They were compelled and not all that clever. Just brutes. But one had tools on him, and he used a screwdriver as a weapon when Cassidy tackled him.”
Tackled him? Dominic almost didn’t hear the rest of Jackson’s words, too caught up in the disjointed memories pouring out of him and coming at Dominic like strobe lights. Francesca screaming like he had never heard her. Throbbing pain in Jackson’s head. Anger that the blood Dominic had given him had spent itself, giving him no advantage. Rage that he had been caught off-guard. Fear that he would fail to keep them safe.
And Cassidy. Cassidy clinging to the back of a dead-eyed man, snarling with fear-fueled anger.
“What?” Dominic said.
“I said she was so hopped up on adrenaline, she didn’t even know she got stabbed.”
An image of Cassidy on the ground, fighting for air, terror in her eyes, going flour-pale. And protruding from her abdomen . . .
All Dominic’s blood seemed to leave his extremities at once. Jackson remained silent, rubbing his fingertips together, waiting.
“What else?”
“She’ll be fine. But . . . she—” he paused to swallow. Dominic heard the words in Jackson’s thoughts as he fought to voice them. He wanted to clamp his hand across his friend’s mouth so they would never emerge. “She lost the baby.”
The gruff whisper rang in Dominic’s bones.
“She hemorrhaged. They tried everything to save her womb, but in the end it was all they could do to save her.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“She doesn’t know yet. She’s still too drugged to know w
hat’s going on. I’m sorry, Dominic. I really am.”
If he weren’t sitting already, he was sure he’d crumple to the ground. Instead, he dropped his head into his hands and let the grief surge through him in devastating waves. “Elle est en vie,” he whispered over and over. She is alive. She is alive.
But the child was dead. The child that was the proof of his humanity reborn. The child that was his future. The child that would never be. Could never be.
Tears dripped from his eyes. The child was as impossible and short-lived as his own abortive attempts to reclaim his humanity. That, too, was forever dead, for he would never again take the suppressant. And Cassidy would never again conceive.
Not by him or anyone.
Elle est en vie.
Cassidy lived. She was all he had left. She was all he ever truly had in this cursed life. The only anchor, the only guiding light. Always she walked by his side without hesitation and always she was hounded by danger. Danger he was responsible for. Just as he was responsible for the deaths of members of his mortal family and endangering those who survived.
All those deaths, all those threats. Every one of them due to his one unrelenting dream to be human again.
Ça suffit, he thought. Enough. He was done with dreaming and hoping and ambivalence. He was done endangering the lives of those he loved. He was done being something he could never be again.
When Dominic lifted his head, his eyes were still wet, but his grief had hardened into something cold and new and dark.
Jackson didn’t move, but the sight of Dominic’s face made his bright red aura flinch around him, aware that he was in the room with something far more dangerous now than he had been two minutes ago. “Nick?” he queried softly. “You okay?”
