by Adrian, Lara
She wended her way deeper into the throng, slowing to watch the handful of couples who were now moving onto the dance floor as the orchestra began to play a waltz. She moved on, laughing along with a few of the guests, and pausing here and there to feign interest in the mansion’s art.
Bringing her glass to her lips, Carys murmured her position to Gideon. “I’m heading for the exit on the east end of the house. As soon as I see my chance—”
“Uh . . . Miss Fairchild?”
The hesitant croak of a male voice drew her attention sharply. She schooled her expression to one of mild surprise. “Oh, hello again, Simon.”
“Hello.” He fell back into an awkward silence. Standing there, he fidgeted with the buttoned collar of his dress shirt beneath the tight bow tie at his throat. Then he thrust his hand out at her, palm up. She frowned, uncertain what he wanted.
“Would you care to dance?”
Inside her ear, Gideon’s laugh sounded choked and far too amused.
Oh, shit. Seriously? “I, um . . .” She glanced around, casting for an excuse.
But she had no plausible reason to say no, and Simon’s face was so pitifully hopeful, she didn’t have the heart to refuse him. Besides, she was there to blend in with the other guests. If she was lucky, maybe she could wheedle some useful information out of Fielding’s son.
“All right. I would be happy to dance with you.”
Setting her half-empty champagne flute down on a nearby tray, she placed her fingers into Simon’s moist palm and let him lead her out to the dance floor.
~ ~ ~
“I hear you’ve earned quite a reputation for yourself in the ring in Boston,” his father said, walking behind Rune with his armed thugs in the dank chill of the passageway. “I hear you’re unbeatable. A killer.”
Rune grunted. “You taught me everything I know.”
“Yes, I did.” There was a smile in that thin voice. “Glad to know you’ll admit it.”
They continued on, around a wide bend that led toward the old store rooms of the fortress. The guards yanked Rune to a stop outside a large, iron-banded door. Riordan stepped around them and stuck a key into the heavy lock. He gave it a twist and shot a smirk over his shoulder at Rune.
“Maybe I should be demanding my share of your profits, eh, boyo?”
Rune kept his voice level, his rage on a low simmer. “You don’t deserve a fucking thing.”
Except an excruciating death, which he couldn’t wait to deliver.
Riordan’s face hardened, but then he shrugged. “I don’t need money. I’m not looking for anything as mundane as that anymore. I trade in something far more valuable now.”
Rune scoffed. “Flesh and blood?”
“When it pleases me, yes. But my preferred currency is power.”
With the lock freed, Riordan unfastened the latch and pushed the old wooden door open. At his nod, the guards shoved Rune ahead of them into the room.
Scores of sealed barrels, shipping crates and large steel boxes were stored inside. Riordan motioned for a couple of his men to open some. They carefully pried loose a barrel lid, then levered the top off a sealed wood crate and removed one of the small boxes from inside it.
As Rune was guided toward the containers, he saw brick-sized packages of fine red powder filling the barrel. Inside the large crate were cushioned boxes holding hundreds of thin glass cylinders, all of them glowing with a milky blue light in their center. There were dozens of containers holding each type of supply. So many, they filled the large storage chamber.
“As I said, I trade in power now.” Smiling, Riordan gestured around him. “My war chest, courtesy of Opus Nostrum. I have enough narcotics to create an army of bloodthirsty savages, and enough liquid UV weaponry at my disposal to eradicate half the Breed population around the world.”
“You’re sick,” Rune spat. “You’ll never get the chance to use any of this shit. Not you, and not Opus either.”
“Who’s going to stop us, boyo? You? Your friends in the Order?” He chuckled as he slowly shook his head. “Imagine my shock when the scouts I’d sent to Boston reported back to me that they’d not only found you in that city, but found you rubbing elbows with warriors from Lucan Thorne’s Order. I have to say, it made me curious.”
Rune shrugged. “The arena draws a diverse crowd. Everyone loves a good fight, as you well know.”
Riordan’s expression was darker than skeptical. “What interest does the Order have with you or the club? Have they been asking you questions about me, perhaps? Do they know I’m a part of Opus Nostrum?”
When Rune remained silent, his face impassive, Riordan’s questions took on a more impatient tone.
“Are they planning to come after me? They got too damn close the other night, when they nearly had their hands on that idiot lawyer of mine, Ivers. Have they found the information he’s been protecting? How much do they know about me and my Opus brothers?”
Rune couldn’t help but take some satisfaction in the edge of panic in his father’s voice. Despite the power he was so eager to boast about, Fineas Riordan spoke now as if he could feel a noose closing around his neck. Deep down, beneath all of his bravado, Riordan was worried that his twisted little empire could come crashing down around his head.
And Rune was planning to do whatever he could to make that happen.
Rune chuckled, genuinely amused. “Save your paranoia for the Order. Even if I knew, I would never tell you anything.”
His father studied him narrowly. “No . . . you don’t know, do you? They haven’t told you anything. Do they even realize you’re my son?”
Rune scoffed. “No one does.” Not until Carys found out so harshly last night. “I buried your name when I left here. I’d planned to take the shame of it to my grave.”
Cold eyes hardened with the insult. “Careful, Aedan. You know I can easily arrange that. I might even enjoy it.”
“Did you enjoy killing my mother too?” Rune’s voice was brittle, filled with all the animosity he was struggling to keep inside. “She was your blood-bonded mate, for fuck’s sake. Any pain you inflicted on her would’ve been echoed in your own veins.”
His father smiled. “Like I said, your mother could weather a great deal of punishment. It took a long time to break her. And yes, I felt each blow, every skin-rending lash. I savored them, if you want to know the truth.”
Rune’s answering growl sounded lethal, even to his own ears. His muscles twitched with the need to smash the sadistic grin from Riordan’s face. His tension must have been noticeable, because two of the guards with guns trained on his back now moved around to the front, hemming him in from all sides.
“My second mate was less of challenge,” his father remarked, so casually, he might have been talking about the weather. “I ended her as soon as she ceased to hold my interest.”
At this new admission, a heavy dread settled over Rune. He’d been avoiding asking about his mother’s replacement or the little girl who’d followed. Now, he had to know. “What about Kitty? Where is she?”
A spark of evil interest lit Riordan’s gaze. “Ah, you remember that tender piece of ass, eh? My men and I had some good times with that one too. But then the sneaky little bitch ran away and never came back. She could be dead for all I care. She was all used up, anyway.”
Rage boiled up inside Rune when he considered all the horrors that repulsive answer implied. “She was an innocent child, you sadistic pig.”
He couldn’t contain his fury now. It erupted out of him on a roar.
Fuck saving Riordan for the Order. Fuck the need for intel on Opus Nostrum. He needed to destroy this monster now, and if it got him killed in the process, so be it.
Rune lunged. Even before he was in motion, he heard the pop of a shot being fired. Something sharp jabbed into the back of his neck. Several somethings.
Not bullets. Darts?
Fire seeped into his veins, instantly sapping the feeling from his limbs. He went down fast. As his body hit the
hard slate of the floor, he realized he’d been hit with a massive sedative. His muscles ceased working. He lay there, paralyzed, his vision beginning to cloud over.
He saw Riordan’s boots step past his face, tauntingly close.
The last thing Rune heard before blackness closed over him was his father’s toneless voice. “Drag him out of here. Dump him in the pit until I decide what to do with him.”
CHAPTER 32
The only intel Carys gathered from Simon Fielding was that he knew absolutely nothing of his father’s activities or his colleagues. The younger Fielding’s knowledge about biflation and fiscal multipliers, however, was seemingly endless.
It had taken three waltzes before Carys had finally managed to get away from him. Apologizing that the champagne had gone straight to her head and that she needed some fresh air, she had evaded Simon’s offer to escort her outside and, instead, slipped out on her own.
“I thought he’d never stop talking,” she whispered to Gideon on the other end of her transmitter.
“Neither did I. Where are you now?”
“I just saw Simon go back into the ballroom, so I’m headed inside.” She reentered the house through a different pair of French doors, emerging in a quiet, dimly lit section of hallway several yards away from the bustle of the reception. “Okay, I’m going stealth now.”
Gathering the shadows around her, Carys shrank back from the rest of the party and headed for the staff stairwell at the back of the corridor.
“I’m going up to the second floor, where Fielding’s study is,” she whispered to Gideon.
“Got your signal on the move in front of me,” he confirmed.
With no one around to see or hear her, she couldn’t resist the need for a mission update on the Order. “How long before the warriors land?”
“They’re still en route, but they should have boots on the ground in Dublin and wheels in motion about four hours from now.”
She didn’t know if the news made her feel better or worse. Anxiety had been riding her ever since she and Brynne had left D.C. that morning. The Order had been gearing up and planning to depart a few hours after she had, and the wait for news had been excruciating. “I wish I could be with them tonight instead of here. I need to see him. I should be there for Rune.”
“Listen, no one wants this to end badly for him,” Gideon said. “Not even your father.”
“I hope you’re right.” She sucked in a breath as the sound of subdued female voices and approaching footsteps on soft wool rugs carried from around the corner of the passage up ahead. “Shit. Someone’s coming.”
She went still and silent, keeping herself close to the wall as a pair of housekeepers carrying armfuls of used linens to the laundry room rounded the bend and walked right past her, unaware. As soon as they were gone, Carys beelined for the east wing.
Tall double doors sealed off the expansive wing from the guest rooms and the rest of the second floor. She tried the handles and found them locked. A concentrated mental command was all it took to open them.
Slipping inside the vacant, dimly lit chamber, Carys closed the door behind her, then let her concealing shadows drop away.
“I’m in,” she advised Gideon.
Ambient light from a handful of wall sconces bathed the enormous space in a warm glow. The large study contained a desk and credenza, with a seating area off to the side. Carys drifted inside, past the sumptuous leather club chairs and Chesterfield sofa that sat before a massive fireplace.
Other rooms branched off the main suite. A conference room with chairs for a dozen people. A huge library with towering bookcases and an elegant reading nook. Even an exercise room filled with gleaming equipment and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the walls.
Carys headed straight for the councilman’s work area. “There’s a tablet on the desk,” she informed Gideon in a whisper as she opened the computer and woke it from sleep mode. “Dammit. It’s password-protected.”
“No problem,” Gideon replied. “I can get in later. That’s why you have the bugs.”
She reached into her pantsuit pocket to retrieve one of the wafer-thin, clear strips of technology Gideon had given her. Peeling off the backing, she stuck the bug on the underside of Fielding’s tablet. Once applied, the covert device all but disappeared against the metal casing.
“Done,” she said. “Checking paper files now.”
She mentally unlocked the credenza and began sifting through the files and folders inside. “I see some GNC contracts in here, three months’ of meeting minutes, committee membership lists . . .”
Her voice trailed off as she scanned the documents for names, appointment references—anything that might prove helpful to the Order in establishing the councilman’s activities and interests. Not to mention any associations that might give off a whiff of corruption.
Gideon’s voice sounded in her ear as she committed page after page to memory. “Better make it quick, Carys. We need to get the rest of those bugs planted in the other rooms in that suite. To play it safe, you can’t afford to be gone more than a few minutes.”
“Right.” She closed the file drawer and hurried to complete the rest of her assignment. With most of them placed in the meeting rooms and other antechambers, she stepped inside the exercise room. “Just one bug left. You want it on the treadmill or the ski simulator? I doubt Fielding gives either one much action.”
Gideon chuckled. “Take your pick.”
She looked for something that might get the most use. Something the human male might keep nearby if he was in the room. “How about the TV remote?”
“Perfect,” Gideon said. “Stick it and get the hell out of there.”
She flipped the small remote over and had just applied the bug when something odd caught her eye. She paused, watching the tiny red light from the remote reflect on one of the mirrored panels on the back wall.
Except it didn’t quite reflect . . .
No, it seemed to shoot right through the glass.
“Huh. That’s strange.”
“Talk to me, Carys. What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” she murmured, setting the remote down and walking over to have a closer look. “I think there’s something behind the glass . . .”
She reached up and felt around the edges of the panel. Her fingertips grazed a small bump along the right side—a button. She pressed it, and the mirror popped open.
“Oh, my God. There’s another room back here.”
Not much of a room. Nothing like the spacious, opulent chambers of the suite outside. This was more of a deep, hidden alcove.
Peering into the darkness, she saw a simple desk containing a computer workstation with a large monitor. If Neville Fielding had secrets, this was obviously where they’d find them.
“I’m going in.” She stepped over the threshold.
“Carys, for fuck’s sake, just be caref—”
“Gideon?” she whispered as she crept farther inside. “Gideon, are you there?”
Shit. Only silence answered. Their signal must have cut off, she guessed, taking in the soundproofed walls and ceiling that surrounded her.
She padded over to the desk. The computer on it was powered down, but still warm. Beside it was some kind of communications system.
What the hell was Fielding using this for? Who did he talk to on this secret workstation, hidden behind a concealed door in a house that only a man with ten times his wealth could possibly afford?
There was only one answer, of course. One explanation.
Opus Nostrum.
Dammit. She had to go back out and try to retrieve one of the bugs she’d placed elsewhere. This was the room the Order needed to monitor.
She spun around and started hurrying back toward the hidden door.
“Gideon,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
The transmitter in her ear was still utterly silent.
And in the quiet that engulfed her, she felt a queer prickling of her sens
es.
She wasn’t alone.
Someone was there with her now.
She started to gather the shadows around her, but it was already too late. No sooner had she realized the danger, she came face-to-face with the big body and threatening stance of a Breed male now blocking the portal to the exercise room.
Oh, God. It was him.
The leader of Riordan’s thugs who’d shown up at La Notte.
Now, he wore a tailored suit and a glossy silk tie, looking every bit the gentleman . . . except for the threatening twist of his mouth and the lethal coldness of his stare.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” he muttered. “The Breedmate bitch from Boston.”
Carys swallowed hard, even as the blood drained from her face. She had to will her Breed instincts to heel under the freezing blast of the deadly male’s glare.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, the only thing she could think to say.
“I think the better question is, what are you doing here? Snooping around in places you don’t belong.” He reached out and snatched the transmitter from her ear, moving so swiftly even her Breed senses could hardly track him. The tiny device disappeared into his clenched fist. “You’re involved in a dangerous business, my dear. A careless girl could get killed if she crosses the wrong people.”
Carys was smart enough to be afraid, but she couldn’t worry about herself in that moment. Not when this bastard had taken the man she loved. She hiked up her chin. “Where’s Rune? What have you and Fineas Riordan done with him?”
He grinned, fangs flashing in the semidarkness. “If you want to see him alive again—if you want to leave this house with your pretty throat intact—you’ll come with me now.”
CHAPTER 33
Brynne smiled and nodded, not even half-listening as one of her human JUSTIS colleagues regaled her and a few other party attendees with a long-winded account of his recent golf holiday in Scotland. Holding her warm, untouched glass of champagne, Brynne scanned the gathering for any sign of Carys.
It had been more than an hour since she’s last seen her.
