Sylvie felt the scream tear from her throat.
Chapter Seventeen
His brother. Miko could hardly recognize the man he’d known his entire life. It was as if something -- a demon? -- had taken over his body. Gone was the boy who’d teased him relentlessly as a child. Fraternal twins raised in Eastern Europe by loving, indulgent parents. The so-called older brother -- Miko’s senior by mere minutes -- Hadrian had pushed him, encouraged him, challenged him as they’d attended a small college in France.
Hadrian had been accepted into the Excoluni several years before Miko, and had quickly progressed up the ranks. But once Miko had been accepted, working under his brother’s command, he’d demanded Miko perform his very best every day. Two brothers determined to do their father proud.
Hadrian. His mentor. His hero.
Miko wondered, was there any hope of rescuing the brother he loved? Or was he gone forever?
Then again, Miko wondered as he took in his current situation -- injured, bound tightly, gagged, gloves preventing him from performing magic -- would he even live to make that attempt?
He’d told Burke to give him one hour. If he didn’t return to their designated meeting point, he was to prepare for the worst. Ironically, if Burke followed that timeline, they’d probably all be dead.
For the first time since they’d started working together, he hoped Burke would defy his direct order.
* * *
Three, two, one. Time’s up!
Burke didn’t give a damn what Miko had said. He’d waited longer than he’d intended in this dump. It was time to find out exactly what was going on.
Miko had been very tightlipped about what he’d learned over the course of the last several hours, but Burke had sensed something was very wrong. Miko had simply given Burke a gun with vampire-killing bullets, a cell phone, a piece of paper bearing an address, and a set of car keys. Before he walked out of the motel room he’d rented under an assumed name, he told him if he didn’t return by five a.m., he should go to the address prepared for the worst.
Of course, Burke had no intention of waiting that long.
A knock sounded at the door.
Isabella.
He checked the peephole before opening the door. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” As usual, she was dressed in black, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. There was only one change in her appearance -- the former red hue of her hair had been replaced by a deep mahogany.
She adjusted the black bag hanging from her shoulder, pushing the strap higher. “You look like hell.”
“Yeah, well.” Burke heaved a weary sigh. “At least I think it’s almost over.”
Scowling, Isabella reached a flattened palm to his cheek. “You… love them, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I had no idea it would be like this. My insides feel like they’ve been shredded, incinerated, and then stuffed back inside.”
“Miko and Sylvie will be okay.” She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder for a second time. “This stupid thing is heavy. I brought everything you asked me to.”
“Let’s go.”
Despite Isabella’s insistence they take her car, Burke went with the car Miko had supplied him. After making a stop at a nearby gas station for a map, they drove the short distance to the address on the paper. When he slowed the car in front of the building, Burke was instantly overcome with bone-deep, nauseating dread. What kind of place was this? Why would anyone bring Sylvie here? What kind of hell was he about to walk into?
He gave Isabella a warning glance as he drove around the block then past the building a second time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to take his friend into that shithole, placing her in even more danger than he already had over the past few months.
It could be a trap. Maybe Miko’s Excoluni pals had convinced Miko that he should be captured?
Deep inside, he doubted Miko would, after all this time, betray him. But he couldn’t deny it was possible.
Car parked a safe distance away, Burke loaded the gun but left the safety on. His heart thumped against his breast bone as he exited the car, weapon in his fist. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his temple. Dragging one slick palm down his leg, he motioned to Isabella to arm herself, and tipped his head toward the house. “Tell me I’m not going to regret getting you into this.”
“You’re not going to regret getting me into this,” Isabella parroted. A glance caught her giving him a toothy grin. “I’m here for you. Always have been.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. But remember our agreement. When your name’s clear, I’m heading home and you’re selling me the house.”
He smiled at their inside joke. As long as they’d known each other, Isabella had wanted to own his house in Valtrusy, a quaint town in the Czech Republic. Of course, thanks to the criminal case, which stripped him of everything he owned, he didn’t legally own the property anymore. The UMN didn’t recognize geographical boundaries. It didn’t matter where on earth a crime was committed. By law any member found guilty of murder lost every material possession he had. But he’d promised that if he were ever able to clear his name, and regained ownership of his property, he’d sell it to her. For a fair price, to be negotiated at a later date. If he had it his way, that fair price would be exactly one dollar. “You got it.”
Smiling, she handed him an elastic band for his hair. He accepted it, setting the gun on the car’s trunk to gather his hair into a low ponytail. His hands trembled as he struggled to perform a task that had always been second nature.
Then, the gun back in his hand again, his dearest friend at his side, he moved toward the ramshackle house with caution. Every nerve in his body prickled. The hairs on his nape stood on end. He could hear the blood pounding through his head. The sound echoed in his ears.
His conscience screamed dire condemnations in his head. Miko might have walked into this place of his own free will, but Isabella? Sylvie? He wouldn’t be able to live another day if something happened to either of them.
When he reached the house, ducking behind a scraggly pile of twigs that might have once been a beautiful rose bush, he turned to Isabella and shook his head. “I can’t let you go in there. I don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“Fuck you,” she snapped. “I’m not sitting out here filing my nails while you’re in there fighting God knows what.”
“But --”
She silenced him with a lifted hand. “Nuh uh.”
He knew there was no way she’d listen to reason. “Stay behind me, at least.”
She gave him an eye roll. “Whatever you say, boss.” Then she winked. “I’d rather look at your ass anyway. Have I ever told you that you have a great butt?”
“No.” Brows furrowed, he twisted at the waist to get a look at his rear end. Then he met her gaze. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Hell no! But I can appreciate a nice body when I see one. I’ve never kept my appreciation of your finer assets to myself.”
So, why couldn’t he recall a single time when she’d commented on his butt -- or any other part of his person -- before? Granted, there’d been that time of the “experiment,” when they’d toyed with the idea of becoming more than friends. But as quickly as that notion had risen, it was cast aside. They were definitely not compatible. There’d been no funny business since then, not a look, word, twinkle. “Ooookay.”
“I’m just in a weird mood, I guess.”
“Yeah. Weird.” He turned around, focusing his attention on the window. There was a split in the plywood covering it. He peered through the crack. The glass behind was cloudy and smudged with filth, and a torn curtain limited his vision, but he could see inside. The window, positioned on the side of the house, faced the neighboring multi-family structure to the west. It provided a fairly good view of several rooms inside -- kitchen, living room, dining room. Because the exterior was cloaked in heavy shadows, the dim lighting insi
de was adequate enough to illuminate a single shadowy figure moving in one of the rooms. If he had to guess, Burke would say the person was male.
Miko? Who was inside? And if that was Miko, where was Sylvie?
The person headed toward the back of the kitchen, disappearing through a narrow doorway. The door closed behind him.
Figuring it was now or never, he motioned to Isabella then sprinted around to the front door. He tried it. Locked. Knowing Isabella would get the door open in half the time it would take him, he waved to her. She shuffled past him, lock pick at the ready. Within seconds, the door inched open. Burke stood back, peering around the door as it slowly swung in. Isabella stood against the front of the house, about five feet from him. Their gazes met for an instant. He lifted the gun, switched off the safety and tiptoed into the house.
Silence. Empty. Filthy. Carefully, slowly, he moved deeper into the house, heading toward the rear where he’d seen the mystery person moving around. He heard muffled voices. Below them?
Basement.
A tingle pricked his spine and a fresh coat of sweat slicked his face and palms.
A board creaked under his weight when he stepped toward the basement door. He froze in place, his breath wedged in his throat.
The voices below were silenced.
Burke lifted his foot slowly and placed it a few inches to the right, this time testing the board before settling his weight on it. He did the same with his other foot, impatient with his painstakingly slow progress, but worried he’d alerted the killer. Without the element of surprise, he had few advantages over the bad guy.
He reached the door without a killer filling him with silver bullets. Relief. He gave himself a few seconds to gather his frayed nerves before taking hold of the doorknob. He twisted the circa 1950’s cut crystal handle a fraction of a degree at a time until the latch clicked.
He swapped a worried look with Isabella before pushing the door open. It struck something hard. An instant later, a man blasted through the door, slamming into Burke and knocking him to the ground before he’d had time to react.
Everything blurred. Someone’s fists slammed into his face. The back of his head struck something hard. He tried to turn his head to the side and block the blows, but he couldn’t move his arms. Sounds of scuffling and skin striking skin, the crunch of shattering bone, filled his ears. A grunt blasted from his chest. Cool darkness seeped into his pores, gathering like a toxic cloud in his head. He struggled to fight it, but the cold intensified, nearly overwhelming him. He focused on Isabella’s distant voice, a whisper in the night. Followed it, out of the shadow, the frigid emptiness.
“Burke! I need your help. Hey, let me out of here, you fucking bastard!”
“Isabella?” He heard himself speak. That was his voice, wasn’t it?
Light pierced the black world that had closed in around him. Painful, agonizing, blinding light. A searing ache blasted through his body in wild, relentless waves.
In the darkness was respite. Soothing cold. Peace. He wanted to surrender to it, but Isabella’s screams kept pulling him toward the light.
He wasn’t very happy with her at the moment, especially when another crush of white-hot, throbbing pain pounded through his body.
He blinked open his eyes. He was on the kitchen floor. Alone.
A muffled shriek.
He slowly turned his head toward the sound but saw no one. Muddy-headed, he moved his hands, legs. So far, so good. He rolled onto his side and levered his upper body off the floor. The pounding in his head intensified. He sandwiched it between his flattened hands, squinted, and slowly stood up.
The world tipped and whirled as he moved, but he continued, driven by worry for Isabella, Sylvie and Miko. He licked his parched lips, tasting blood. Was it his own?
His gun. Where’d his gun go?
The room spinning around him like he was on a runaway carnival ride, he turned a complete three-sixty, searching the floor for his lost weapon. Nothing.
Why did that not surprise him?
He searched for an alternate weapon, something hard he could use to beat some Hadrian ass. He’d recognized the Excoluni officer sometime after the bastard had pounded his nose flat.
Of course, the fact that he’d been attacked by Hadrian Dvorak led him to a devastating conclusion -- Miko could be a part of this. His own mate might have intentionally led him into a trap.
No. He didn’t want to believe it. Not after what had happened earlier. They were on the same team now.
What if Miko hadn’t known what he was facing when he arrived? What a shock it must’ve been -- discovering his own brother was somehow tied to the murders. Was in some way responsible for his Origo’s kidnapping.
He had to find Miko. He had to find them all.
He swept up a broken broom handle tucked between the refrigerator and the wall and headed back toward the basement stairs. Whatever was going on, it was happening down there.
He had no idea what kind of hell he was about to walk into, but he was ready to give the devil a little taste of his own medicine.
* * *
The stench of those candles, it was enough to make Sylvie’s eyes water. What the hell were they made out of?
Come to think of it, she didn’t want to know.
Her belly was twisted into a tight knot, the awful smell only making the nausea that much worse. The chill of the floor cooled her back, sending shivers up and down her spine, while her heart sent scalding blood pounding through her body.
He had a strange looking knife in his hand. It reminded her of that scene in Braveheart, the awful one at the end. She was about to feel the same thing -- the agony of having her insides cut out.
Terror ripped through her body. She dragged in desperate breaths between muffled sobs. As she had a hundred times before, she started yanking on the chains holding her arms and legs, gritting her teeth at the pain. The skin around the bindings had no doubt been rubbed raw. Sharp, piercing sensations razored up her arms and legs every time she moved them.
Stilling, gaze focused on the man holding the knife overhead murmuring words in a foreign tongue she didn’t understand, she made promises to every deity known to mankind that she’d live a better life, contribute to every church raffle in her neighborhood, and pay a weekly visit to every church, temple and mosque she could locate. If only she might be spared.
She’d long ago accepted death as inevitable. Everyone died -- everyone, that was, but vampires. And their Origos. Only she would discover immortality was truly possible and then find herself slaughtered brutally, the lamb whose blood was shed to redeem a dead person.
It was almost too bizarre to believe.
The man turned to her. Her eyes filled with tears. She tried to be strong, but terror completely obliterated every bit of pride and courage she had clung to.
He was coming closer.
His face was a blank canvas, completely devoid of emotion. His dark eyes glittered, the light of a nearby candle reflecting on the surface. Inside, the depths were like the furthest regions of outer space. Empty. Cold. Nothingness.
He lowered the crescent-shaped blade and hooked it in her shirt. The metal was cool against her skin. Her stomach muscles tightened. She jerked when he gave the blade a swift yank, cutting through her top. The material fell to the sides, leaving only her bra between his evil, empty eyes and her skin.
Trembling, air sawing in and out of her lungs as if she was sprinting up a mountain slope, she tipped her head to look at Miko. He sat in a chair, his arms tied behind him, his ankles strapped to the chair legs with duct tape. More tape covered his mouth, yet he still managed to shout, to rock the chair. Unlike the man standing over her, preparing to remove her insides like some demented surgeon, his eyes were filled with emotion.
Their gazes met as the blade pierced her skin. Instinctively, she flinched. Her eyelids shut out the agonizing sight of Miko struggling to escape to save her. “It’s not going to work. We didn’t complete the Bindin
g,” she said for the bazillionth time. “If you kill me now, you kill your chance of bringing her back.”
A puff of air struck her skin and she flinched. There was a thump, then a clatter. Lots of scuffling. Some angry shouts.
She opened her eyes. “Burke,” she whispered, turning to watch him fight the killer. The rage she saw in his face shocked her.
Within minutes Burke had the killer flat on his back, the wrist of the hand holding the knife pinned to the floor. “What the hell, Hadrian?”
“You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never loved a woman.”
“Yes, I have. I do.” Burke lifted Hadrian’s wrist then smashed it down. The knife was knocked from his grip, slid across the concrete, stopping next to a pillar candle burning on the floor. “And you’re about to kill her.”
Burke loved her? He loved her! Tears of joy burned in her eyes, along with the lingering tears of terror that hadn’t yet dried.
“Then you know what I’m feeling. The desperation. I can’t live without her. I had to do… this. There was no other way. You understand?”
“No. I don’t want to understand. I don’t want to hear anything. I just want you to pay the way I have. You did this to me. Took everything. You bastard.” He closed his hand around Hadrian’s throat. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened. Hadrian’s face turned a deep cranberry, yet he didn’t move, didn’t struggle.
Burke released Hadrian’s throat and knocked him out cold with a single punch to the face. He flipped the would-be murderer over onto his stomach and hogtied him before coming to check Sylvie’s cut.
Expression dark with barely repressed rage, he ran his fingertip down the wound, a gentle, soothing touch. “I can’t believe he almost succeeded.” He kissed away the tears streaming from her eyes, and the pain on her stomach, wrists, ankles. “Where’s the key?” He glanced at Miko, who was shaking his shoulders and head. “I need to go find Isabella.” He stood, found the knife then rushed to Miko and pulled the tape from his mouth.
The Alpha's Touch Boxed Set (14 Book Bundle) Page 19
