Veils: A Killers Novel, Book 4

by Asher, Brynne

  “Aye, let’s getcha up.”

  And just like I remember, those hands on me are strong and rough. There’s no way I could fight back even if my arms weren’t bound. He puts me in a chair and when I fight not to sway, he steadies me, making me cringe. I try to swallow without choking on the bile, and instead spit, hitting him in the jaw since he’s close to me.

  “Shite,” he hisses and swipes it away with his shoulder as his hands flex on me, giving me a good shake, which only makes me realize how badly my head is throbbing. “Ye’re gonna be a pain in my arse, aren’ ye?”

  “She awake?” I hear another man yell.

  Shit. We’re not alone.

  He steps back, and without taking his eyes off me, raises his voice one octave. “Yeah, she is. But I got this.”

  My eyes dart around for the first time. A building? Maybe a warehouse? I’m not sure but the floor is old wood and the walls so bare the studs are showing.

  More voices join the other one and my heart sinks. I’m not sure why I thought I ever had a chance to get away from this guy, let alone a tribe of others probably just like him.

  Trying to catch my breath, I’m forced to look up into those cold eyes and wince in pain when he grips my jaw so hard and forces my head back. I yelp as he squeezes—his fingertips pressing into my skin like a vise. I’m sure to bruise.

  “’At’s not ye way to work with me, lass. Ye answer my questions ‘n we’ll see wha’ I can do for ya.”

  And with that, he tosses my head to the side and I groan before looking back at him, uttering my first words since I’ve regained consciousness. “What do you want?”

  His eyes—frigid as a dark, winter night—drag down my body in a way I can almost feel. I try to control my breathing but my breasts heave with every breath and I squeeze my legs together. I might as well be naked the way he’s looking at me, but I don’t think he’s done anything to me … yet.

  I shudder as his hand reaches down to adjust the bulge in his pants.

  Yet might be the word of the day.

  Shit.

  But I don’t dare move and I don’t take my eyes off him. I can’t, even if he has stripped me of my clothes and self-respect.

  “The man with ye a’ the airpor’—he took somethin’ from me—something I can’t get back. I wan’ to know where I can find him.”

  My heartbeat echoes in my ears and I don’t answer. I’m not sure I could if I wanted to. I don’t know which airport he’s talking about or which man. I’ve been with Grady, Dal, but mostly Noah—the ghost of a man who’s become my obsession over the last two weeks—to whom I’ve spilled every emotion and random thought while I laid alone in my bed replaying my day.

  I don’t care who he’s talking about—he can threaten me with my life. There’s no way I’m telling him shit about the brother I love, the doctor I just watched heal and save lives, or the man who insists I’m his Lover.

  “Well?” he sneers.

  I sit up straighter, even though I’m achy and stiff, and tip my head back to look him straight in the eye. “Fuck you.”

  His gray eyes thunder and the next thing I know, the back of his hand connects with my jaw.

  I see nothing but stars.

  * * *

  Jarvis

  The caller ID barely pops up and I have the cell to my ear, demanding, “What did you find?”

  Donnelly gets right to it. “The Cain girl stumbled into the women’s restroom after getting off her flight in Istanbul. A minute later, a man entered the same bathroom. When they exited, Cain was slumped over and he had his arm around her. My guess, she was drugged. They took the lift to the ground floor and he basically carried her out of the airport to a waiting car. Security even stopped them and I had someone track down the officer. The man told him she’d had too much to drink on her last flight and he was taking her to their hotel. I can’t get a good facial on him because his hat was pulled down too far.”

  “Shit.”

  “Do you know the girl?”

  I look from my watch to the window and feel the jet start to descend but I don’t confirm nor deny. “She’s Grady’s sister. I’ll do anything for Grady.”

  “Yes, sorry. I’m sending you what I have. My contacts are still poking around.”

  “Update me right away with whatever you find.”

  “I should’ve come with you. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She has the nerve to laugh. “I figured as much about you. You are a loner.”

  She’s not wrong.

  But I’m done. “I’m about to land, Spice Girl. Gotta go.”

  “Bugger off, Jarvis.”

  “Prepare for landing,” the pilot yells back from the cockpit.

  I end the call, buckle up, and open the video Donnelly sent. I watch it three times, the shadowed face basically dragging Gracie out of the airport, even as he stops to chat with the damn security guard.

  When I switch back to check on Gracie’s tracker, it’s still pinging from the same location, approximately seventy-six miles from me.

  There’s only one thing I know for certain—no matter what I find when I get to her, someone’s going to die tonight.

  * * *

  Gracie

  I roll to my side, prying my eyes open despite the pain in my jaw and temple. It’s crazy how the sound of a switch blade popping open will force you to put your pain on the back burner.

  “No!” I scream, doing everything I can to scoot away from him on the dirty floor.

  It does no good. He comes at me and I try to roll away, but he’s bigger and stronger. The story of my life. He’s not the first one to make me feel small and weak and worthless.

  I try to kick at him with my bare feet, but I might as well be a fish, flopping around out of water. Jerking me around, he surprises me when he cuts the zip tie binding my wrists. Pins and needles prick through my shoulders and down my arms, but I don’t waste any time—I scramble to my feet.

  Pulling my bra strap back up my arm, I look at the man standing across from me as he folds the knife and slips it back into his pocket.

  “This’ll be more fun, little lass. I’m already hard as a fuckin’ rock. Ye wanna wres’le a wee bit before ye spill wha’ ye know? I got time for that. Maybe I’ll call my lads to join the fun.”

  I lick my lips that are dry and chapped, eyeing the doorway behind him, wondering not only where it leads, but how many others are waiting.

  My fate might just be sealed.

  “Where’s ye boyfriend?” he spits.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I tell him the truth.

  “That’s not wha’ it looked like when he stuck his tongue down ye throat righ’ before he put ye on a plane two weeks ago. I have the pictures to prove it.”

  I try not to let on that I know what he’s talking about, but from the sneer that snakes over his features, I know I did.

  “Ah, I struck a chord. Now we’e gettin’ somewhe’e. That’s the one I want to know abou’. See, this man—who ye say isn’t banging ye—he’s good. So good, he seems to be invisible. But I was in the States las’ month because I go’ a tip.” He takes three steps, eating up the precious distance separating us like a hungry bear. He towers over me, bringing up one finger, tracing it up my bare arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake until he gets to the top of my shoulder. Just like that, he flips my bra strap and my hand flies up to hold it in place. “Bu’ it was a dead one, jus’ like the others.”

  Heat radiates off him, and not in a good way—more like being licked by flames straight from hell. My head swims, still trying to fight off whatever drug I was slipped. My adrenaline pulsing through my veins is helping to burn it off but nothing would be enough to give me the superpowers I’d need to escape him and whoever else is beyond that door.

  “Hey,” he snaps and his hand comes up to grip my hair, forcing my head back and I cry out from the pain. “Look a’ me when I’m talkin’ to ye.”r />
  He pulls harder and my scalp burns as he presses his front into mine. I squeeze my eyes shut but it only enrages him further.

  “Fuckin’ look at me, bitch!” he roars. I open my eyes and a whimper escapes my lips but he just gives me another shake as he keeps talking about the man who’s determined not to be in my life. “Someone was taken from me—my brothe’. My little brothe’. He was killed, shot dead in the nigh’ after he finished a job. We had no fuckin’ clue who did it, until one day I got a call from an American journalist. He did all the work, tracing him to me homeland, surprisingly very nea’ the location and time when my brothe’ was killed. All we had to do was put the res’ of it togethe’ in the US. My people got the videos of ye but los’ him after. Do ye know what that man’s name was?”

  My heart speeds and I manage to squeak, “No.”

  “Aye, that’s where ye wrong. The newsman told me he’s known as Jarvis. Think really hard this time. Ye sure you don’t know him?”

  He gives me a shake with the hand still gripping my hair, jolting my entire body.

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I lie through a howl.

  He leans in close and I shudder when his tongue connects with my skin, his heavy breath following its path across my trembling bottom lip. “Think harde’, wee lass. I’ve seen the video. If ye need a reminda’ of how he kissed ye before puttin’ ye on a plane, I’d be happy to help. Yer easy to follow bu’ we couldn’ get to ye in that hellhole where ye’ve been workin’ for the las’ couple weeks.”

  No, no, no!

  I don’t give him anything. I refuse.

  “Ye see, I traced him back to Maryland in the States, but it was a dead end. Ye’re goin’ to help me, aren’ ye?”

  I’m not stupid enough to think he’ll let me go, even if I did tell him what he wanted to know. I don’t move and I don’t say a word.

  “Aren’ ye?” he screams in my face, and before I know it, my feet are whipped out from under me. I’m on the floor with a thud, the side of my body taking the brunt of my weight and my head bouncing on the dirty, raw floor.

  I try to move—I do. But I hardly have the chance to shift when a boot connects with my gut.

  Followed by my head.

  My shoulder.

  The more blows that rain down, the more my mind retreats. To another time. Another place. Another man.

  I forget about Grady, my sisters, Dal, Eze, Furaha, and even Noah.

  The day my own father beat me close to death, I remember floating like a feather. The same day Grady killed him.

  The Cain kids got another chance that day.

  But right now, I think I’m all out of chances.

  Chapter 15

  Storm

  Jarvis

  I move to the door and make myself pause. I know they’ll come. They always do.

  Boots echo on the floor.

  Three, two…

  I turn and kick the old, aged wood.

  Humph.

  It splinters in his face and I don’t hesitate. He hardly has a chance to open his eyes, let alone get his bearings, before he’s wearing my bullet in his skull.

  Moving through the building, I kick doors. Nothing. Climbing the slim stairwell that complains with my every stomp, I take them two at a time.

  My insides … I don’t even recognize myself. This … this storm that’s brewing.

  I might explode. Or fall a-fucking-part.

  I know she’s here. Right now, I’m thanking the technological geniuses that helped me find her.

  I kick open another door. Fuck.

  She’s lying limp in the corner, curled into herself, as motionless as a dead, fallen leaf on a still day.

  I don’t ever freeze and I never hesitate. I’m too good. But the sight of her…

  This moment will be etched in my brain for the rest of my days, and I know for a fact, I’ll be forever changed because of it.

  “Gracie.”

  She flinches.

  It’s not a lot but it’s enough.

  When I unglue my feet from the floor, I can’t get to her fast enough. But I might as well die a thousand deaths because when I put my hand to her bare shoulder, she jerks and screams.

  I see fear in a lot of eyes. It’s my job. It’s always right before I close the deal and call it a day at the office.

  But her fear … it’s something beyond anything I’ve experienced and I want nothing more than to take it away from her and bury it deep.

  “Gracie, it’s me. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

  She doesn’t answer and only tries to fold into herself tighter. I try to brush the hair from her face but it’s sticking to her, she’s covered in blood. Her fair skin is now mangled and torn—blue is already seeping over one eye as it swells.

  I rip the buttons open on my shirt and yank it down my arms. Her bra is barely hanging on one arm and my insides flip at the thought of what’s been done to her. “Baby, work with me. Let me get this on you.”

  She flinches and tries to pull away from me. I took six men down and don’t know who else might show up. We need to get out fast.

  Ignoring what fight she has left—feeble and weak—I roll her to me and wrap my shirt around her as best I can. With her tucked to my chest, I get us the hell out.

  * * *

  Gracie

  “But I need a flight plan. I can’t just take off without knowing where we’re going. I’m flying this thing solo. I can’t navigate from scratch and get us there safely.”

  “You’re fueled up?” Noah clips. Every word that falls from his lips are angry with an authority behind them that would make me cringe if I had the energy.

  “Yes. I topped off while I was waiting for you.”

  “Then get the damn plane in the air, put this fucker on autopilot, and get us to Paris. I need a doctor and I’m not taking her to one I don’t know and trust.”

  Arguing. They’ve been at it since Noah laid me down on this sofa and covered me with his jacket.

  But Noah’s not done. “You get Donnelly on the line. She seems to be able to move mountains on this side of the Earth. She’ll get you a fucking flight plan if you can’t do it yourself. And if you want to keep working for Crew Vega, I suggest you find a way to make it happen. This is Cain’s sister.”

  I open my right eye and the light burns something fierce. Trying to focus on a spot on me that doesn’t hurt is like finding a needle in a haystack. All I taste is the metallic flavor of my own blood and my head is spinning.

  “Shit,” the other voice hisses.

  “Shit is right,” Noah clips back. “Figure out a way to do your job.”

  “Strap her in. I’ll get you to Paris.”

  Paris.

  And just to think, two weeks ago I hadn’t stepped foot outside of the eastern half of the US.

  A hand touches my forehead and I cringe, pain shooting through me from the movement.

  “Baby, don’t move. I think they drugged you. I’m going to get an IV going, pump you full of fluids to flush it out faster. Then I’ll get you cleaned up as much as I can before I get you to a doctor.”

  I pry my one good eye open and there he is. The man I just can’t seem to shake since he walked into my life. He’s given me more than I bargained for. I wanted the memory of one night but what I got was so much more.

  All good … until this.

  I wince when he pulls my good eye open, blinding me with light.

  “You’ve got a concussion. You’re going to have to stay awake for me, Gracie. You’re a nurse—you know.”

  I shake my head, not because I don’t know but because I already knew I had a concussion. I’m so nauseated I might throw up again.

  I hear him break an instant ice pack and shake it up before he presses it with such ease to my swollen eye, it would make any nursing instructor proud. When I smell the familiar scent of antiseptic, I open my good eye to see what he’s doing.

  Shit. He’s really going to start an IV.r />
  “Do you know what you’re doing?” It’s the first thing I’ve said and my voice comes out rough and shallow. But there’s no way I’m going to allow this man to stick a needle in me just because he thinks he knows how to glue skin together on the fly.

  He barely glances at me as he tourniquets my arm to find a vein like an expert. Holding a piece of medical tape between his lips, he doesn’t look away from my arm as he mumbles, “I’ve got you, Gracie.”

  I’m not quite sure what this man doesn’t know how to do, because before I know it, I feel the cool saline pushing through my veins. As much as I don’t want to be touched right now, the practical side of my brain is thankful. I know it will make me feel better sooner than if I had to wait for whatever they slipped me to wear off on its own.

  He tapes the IV to my arm and tears open another wipe. It stings like fire when it touches my cracked lip and his whispered apologies come—his voice hitting me low and gruff, yet sweet.

  I keep my eyes shut and can’t believe I’m here again, for the second time in my twenty-seven years. At least this time, I wasn’t beaten into a coma like I was when I was nine. Silver lining and all.

  If it wouldn’t hurt so badly, I might roll my eyes.

  After cleaning me up as best as he can, he dabs ointment on my lip as he murmurs, “If I could take it all from you, Gracie, I would. I’ve got to call your brother and let him know how you’re doing. But I’m getting you to a doctor as soon as we land.”

  I shake my head even though I don’t know why. Even though I hurt everywhere, I don’t think anything’s broken. From the size of the knot on my head, I’m sure my concussion won’t be life threatening. If it were anyone else and I was their nurse, I’d insist they be seen by a doctor, too.

  But I’m tired. So freaking tired.

  Noah sits on the floor of the plane next to my sofa and laces his fingers with mine as he puts his phone to his ear. I listen for a beat and wonder if he put anything in my IV. My adrenaline crash is massive and I fall fast. The last thing I hear Noah saying to my big brother, “I have no idea … but I’m sure as shit going to find out. I got six of them and if there’s anyone else behind it, I’ll find them. When I do, I’m going to rip them apart, piece by piece.”