by Jaime Rush
Nester wondered if his brother planned to double cross him, using the excuse that he had been the one to procure the money. He'd given Nester permission to go off and kill as much as he wanted when they split off from the group. Like he was ready to get rid of him. Wouldn't it be nice to be on his own without having to answer to his brother? As long as he had money to survive.
“She's probably down in the basement with her puppets,” Nester said, creeping toward the door and listening. He had read some of her books, though he'd never admit it. What the people did in them was interesting. He might like to enact some bondage and torture. “I don't hear anything.”
Copeland opened the door. “Lanna, your toys have to go now.”
Nester followed, hoping to glimpse something sordid and deliciously erotic. He slammed into Copeland because he'd stopped midway down the stairs.
“What the…” Copeland took the rest of the stairs.
Nester couldn't contain the giggle that erupted. “Well, well, lookee here.”
Copeland shot him an irritated look, clearly missing the humor of finding his wife cuffed and the prisoners out of sight.
“Don't even start with me,” she said, though Nester could see the fear of Copeland's retribution in her haughty expression.
“Where are they?” Copeland asked, about to turn back toward the stairs. “We have to find them before they report us to the authorities.”
“They went into the tunnel,” she said.
“The tunnel?”
“So you have nothing to worry about,” she said.
“Nothing? You stupid bitch, we have even more to worry about if the others find them.”
She flinched. “We could run now.”
“We run right before we're to report to the finestra, so they don't have time to look for us.” Copeland tossed the keys to Nester. “Unlock her and meet me in the tunnel. We have to find them.” He opened the door and disappeared in the darkness within.
“Does that mean I can hunt them down?” Nester asked, rubbing his hands together.
“Yes,” he called out, his voice echoing.
Nester turned to Lanna. “I think I'll make you wait. You've been a very naughty girl. Tsk tsk.” He jammed the keys into his pocket and ran into the tunnel.
In retrospect, going into the tunnel hadn't been the best idea. No doubt Erica was thinking the same as they walked for an hour and a half, trying every escape hatch they came upon to no avail. Having the information they needed was useless if they couldn't get out to tell someone. Returning to the house wasn't an option. Copeland and Nester were probably back and on their way.
Magnus and Erica approached another one of those damned escape hatches, and he wondered if they should even try.
“Thanks for not leaving me there,” Erica said in a soft voice.
“Why are you thanking me? Like there was a choice?”
She kept her gaze trained ahead. “I've only known you for a day. You're a phenomenal liar. You could have been lying to me as easily as you were to her.” She didn't mince words, this one.
“You're right. You have no idea what kind of man I am. And the truth is, I did leave a woman locked in a cell knowing her husband's going to be angry as hell with her. I don't feel good about that part, but I do what I have to when it comes to my survival. I spent my whole life training to kill a man who was trying to kill my family. Now that I've finally gotten to the point where I can live, my life is once again ripped out of my hands. So I would lie, I would screw a woman, and I'd kill to get that chance. But I'd never leave an innocent woman to die.”
“But I'm not innocent.”
“Yes, you are.”
She wasn't like most of the women he'd been with, fun-loving, light-hearted, out to have a good time. But the two women who had drawn him deeply were troubled, harboring dark, dangerous secrets.
Jessie. He didn't feel the painful tug when he thought of her. He didn't feel exactly that with Erica either, but he did feel something. A tug, aye. Erica would never be a fun-loving toss-in-the-sack. But he needed to make her smile. To fill her big blue eyes with something other than distrust, uncertainty, or the shadows that dwelled there.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“Like what?” He really wanted to know, as he had no idea what expression revealed.
“Like you want to save my soul.”
Ah, that one. “It's just that we might die in this tunnel, and I've never made you smile. Or sigh with pleasure.”
She did smile, though it was more of a Mona Lisa one. “You did.”
“I did? Which one?”
“I'm not telling. You'll get a big head. A bigger head.”
He threw his head back, stifling his laugh. “My head's not that big, you know. It's the curls.”
He sensed it coming up behind them—Darkness. Instinctively, he pushed her behind him as he spun to face it. Through the gloom of the tunnel, a black form raced up at the speed of Darkness. It took him over in response, transforming him into a mountain lion. But not quite fast enough. Nester slammed into him, throwing them both against the wall.
Magnus was ready for the impact, tightening his form and leaping up to attack. He tore his fangs into Nester's shoulder. Lanna was right; Nester wasn't any particular form, just vaguely the shape of an animal. He definitely had the one. Nester growled and snarled and whipped his head back and forth, his fangs more like a saber tooth tiger's.
Magnus stole a glimpse at Erica, who was searching for a weapon. He needed to dispatch Nester before his cohorts arrived. By the footsteps pounding in the distance, they were on their way.
Nester bit Magnus's thigh, tearing away his dark flesh. It hurt, as Jessie's dad had warned, but it was only fatal if his opponent kept tearing bits away before he could mend himself. Magnus would try the strategy on Nester. The thought of Erica, of protecting her, gave him the ferocity of the Tasmanian Devil.
Erica was warming her ability, her palm glowing brighter than her earlier attempt.
“Don't use it unless you have to,” Magnus warned.
She wore an expression of worry, obviously hearing the footsteps, too.
Nester ducked away from Magnus to lunge at her. She dodged, but not quickly enough to evade being shoved off balance. Before Nester could try again, Magnus jumped on his back. Nester rammed him into the wall again and again, trying to dislodge him. Magnus drew his claws across Nester's throat, like that bastard had done to him days ago. Of course, Nester wasn't a mere human, so one swipe wasn't going to do it.
The sound of Copeland's labored breathing was louder than his footsteps. The tunnel lights dimly lit his approaching form. Now this was going to get tricky. Nester was enough to fight. Copeland had a weapon as deadly as Erica's, but he had more juice behind it.
Copeland stopped a few yards away, bending over to catch his breath. No sign of Lanna.
“Get this son of a bitch,” Nester said. “I want the woman.”
Magnus kept his hold so his brother couldn't Flare him without getting Nester, too. But that left Erica open. As Copeland straightened and flexed his hand, a white light flashed around him. Arcs of lightning shot out, strong enough that electricity prickled across Magnus's skin and lifted the hairs on his arms. Erica held her hand outstretched, her face in a grimace.
A glow emanated from Copeland's palm, but he was crumbling. His knees gave way, sending him to the ground. He arched, his eyes bulging. He wasn't the only one screaming in pain. Magnus tore his gaze from the now seizing man to Erica, who was contorted, eyes squeezed shut and mouth in a grimace. When Copeland collapsed, so did she.
“Erica!” Magnus couldn't go to her without releasing Nester.
Nester was staring at his brother's body in shock. He slipped out of Magnus's grasp and went for Erica's still form.
Magnus headed him off, throwing him several yards where he skidded across the floor. He heard more footsteps running toward them. Lanna? No, from the other direction. Not go
od. Nester got to his four feet and stared in the direction of the approaching footsteps. Then like a shadow, he tore off toward the house.
Erica was curled in a fetal position and crying in pain. He morphed back to man and dropped down beside her. “Shhh, baby, shhh. Someone's coming.”
He scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. Dead weight. The words felt as heavy as she did. Her ability was killing her. He knew it was painful to use, but she'd never said anything about it debilitating her. Locating the ladder, he took the steps carefully, holding onto her with one hand, the railing with the other. He cleared the tunnel's ceiling, which put them in the shadows, and whispered for her to remain quiet. His arms were trembling from the effort to hold her and hold them in place as well. Especially with her shaking so badly.
Two people ran up right beneath him, and he heard a man whisper, “Back. There's a body.”
Erica started whimpering, her breathing shallow. Hell, they were a sitting target up there now that they'd revealed their presence. Magnus held her tight and dropped down, ready to Become. He came face-to-face with Pope and a woman he didn't recognize.
They looked as relieved as Magnus felt. Pope took in Erica, still clutched in Magnus's arms. “She's hurt?”
“Yeah.” There wasn't time for explanations. “Can you get us out of here?” He knew the bloke could teletransport. That would come in real handy about now.
“I can try. Anyplace in mind?”
“My motel room would be best.”
Pope touched the woman's arm, then put his other hand on Magnus's arm. “Picture the place clearly in your mind.”
He experienced an odd flickering feeling, the way the power comes on and off during a storm.
Pope shook his hands, his frustration clear. “My abilities are still unreliable. We've been porting a lot since we got here. I tried going to you, but I was blocked by something on your end.”
“The cuffs. Never mind,” Magnus said at Pope's raised eyebrows. “Try again.”
Erica clung to him, digging her fingers into his shoulder. She was burning up, damp where their bodies touched. Pope put his hands on them and this time Magnus felt a whoosh. In the next instant, he was standing in his room, his duffel bag on the bed right where he'd left it. He shoved it to the floor and laid Erica down, then climbed up next to her and took her hand. She gripped his hard, which he hoped was a good sign.
Magnus scooted even closer to her, pressing his body against her side. “This is Erica Evrard.”
“Jerryl's sister,” Pope said.
The name churned his insides. “Yeah.”
Pope moved closer, assessing her. “I've had a hard time keeping tabs on her. What happened? I do not see any injury.”
“She's got the same—” Magnus stopped, taking in the woman with him. “Talent as you,” he finished.
“Suza knows everything.” Pope gave her what seemed like an affectionate smile and then turned back to Erica. “She can Flare?”
“Yeah, though she calls it Lightning. Copeland, the guy who had us captive, said her body can't handle it because she's human.” Magnus lifted her sleeves to reveal the scars.
With the demeanor of a doctor, Pope pushed the sleeve higher, running his fingers along the lightning-like scars. Then he pulled down the shoulder of her shirt. Newer scars snaked across her skin, red and angry. “It's killing her, quite literally. When I use it, the power of the Flare goes through me, too. But yes, my body can tolerate it. The scars appear to be moving toward her heart, though of course I can't tell without disrobing her. Do you know?”
Hell, he'd slept with her and hadn't seen her naked. “No.”
Pope held his hand over her. “I used to be able to heal, but I wasn't able to heal your Darkness. Then again, I'm not sure that's even possible.”
“I appreciate everything you did. I may not have been in a state of mind to properly thank you after I woke up.”
“You had a lot to process.” Pope kept his gaze on his hand as he spoke, but he glanced at Magnus. “You are coping now?”
“As best as can be expected, considering I got kidnapped and was nearly killed by your people. And one with Darkness, too. He's not dead. Yet.”
“My people? Seems as though we're involved in the same problem. Now we can work in unison. But first we must get her on her feet again. Do you know how long she suffers like this?”
“We just met. I've never seen her use her power.” She killed killers. Magnus held that tidbit in, still amazed by it.
Pope lowered his hand. “I'm not certain I did any good. Suza and I need to return to the Vegas area and get her truck before the others find it. I will 'port us there and try to 'port us back with the truck.”
“I heard you did that with my Beemer,” Magnus said, finding it hard to imagine.
“Yes, but I hadn't recently used my 'porting ability several times. I barely got us here. If we do not return right away, know we had to drive back. It took approximately an hour and a half to get there. That should give your Erica time to recover. I fear we're going to need all of us because we are facing something rather large.”
“And we don't have a lot of time.”
Pope seemed surprised that he knew that. “No, we do not.”
Suza came up to Pope and wrapped her long fingers over his arm. She was as far from the person Magnus would have paired with Pope as he could imagine, with her oversized silver jewelry and low-cut tank top edged with fringe. She had bare, dirty feet, and they both looked as though they'd done some tangling of their own.
“We'll compare notes when you get back,” Magnus said. He gave them the highway directions back to the motel.
Once again they flickered, which looked bizarre as hell. It took several tries before they disappeared. Nothing would surprise him anymore. Except for caring about this prickly woman he'd only just met. He gathered her in his arms.
“Don't die on me, Erica,” he whispered next to her ear. “I want more chances to make you smile. And sigh.”
She tried to crack open her eyes, but they barely focused.
“What can I do?” he asked, holding her face in his hands. “How can I help?”
“Just l-leave me alone. I'll be all right.” She moved out of his grasp, curling up and facing away from him. That's what she said. Her thoughts were different.
Need comfort.
He spooned up behind her, mindful where he put his hands. “Not this time.”
Her body slowly relaxed, and her breathing evened out. Ten minutes later, she rolled over onto her back, and her eyes fluttered open. She seemed confused to find him hovering over her.
“You're in my motel room,” he said. “You killed Copeland.”
She ran her hands over her arms. “You were fighting Nester.”
“He got away. He heard someone coming down the tunnel and took off. Even though he must have figured they were his people, he probably didn't want to have to explain himself. And us.”
She looked around, stunned. “More of them came? Are you sure we're not dead?”
He chuckled. “Aye. I sure hope Heaven isn't a cheap motel room.”
“But how…”
“The people who were coming down the tunnel are on our side.” He let that sink in for a moment, enjoying her dumbstruck face. “I don't know the whole story, and since they're not back yet, I'll wager we won't hear it for another hour and a half. The DNA in us that makes us part Callorian came from Pope's father. Pope is an outlaw as far as his people are concerned, but he's been an ally to those who carry his DNA. He and a lady I've never seen before are here doing the same thing we are: trying to stop this explosion. They went to get her truck, and then they'll be back.”
Her shirt was still askew over her shoulder, and Magnus brushed his finger over her scarred skin. “He says you can't keep using your ability, which you likely inherited from him. Your body can't handle it. It'll kill you.”
She pulled her shirt up, dislodging his fingers. “I know. It gets
worse every time.”
“You've been doing this knowing it's killing you?”
She met his eyes, hers filled with both shadow and the light of having purpose. “It's all I have.” She looked at the bathroom door, which was ajar. “I need to get a shower.”
“Are you sure you're okay to do that?”
She rammed her fingers through her mussed hair. “I feel gritty and dirty, so even if I have to crawl in, I'll do it.”
“I'm in there right behind you.” At her startled look, he added, “After you're done and out of there.”
He stayed close in case she got dizzy. She was weak, her hand brushing the wall and then holding the door frame, but she didn't wobble. She closed the door and turned on the water. He leaned against the door, listening to make sure she was all right.
A few minutes later, she emerged, wrapped in a towel. “I feel loads better. If only I had clean clothes.”
He dug in his duffel bag. “I just threw in some stuff, having no idea how long I'd be away. Here.” He handed her a T-shirt, only belatedly realizing what it said on the front.
She raised an eyebrow at the rather suggestive drawing of two drumsticks and the words, DRUMMERS KNOW HOW TO STICK IT TO YOU.
He shrugged. “It's just for banging around. I've got another one—”
“It's fine.”
“Can't help you in the pants department.”
“This is good. Having a clean shirt was the most important thing. Go ahead and get your shower.” She raised an eyebrow. “Should I hang out by the door to make sure you're all right, too?”
He started to open his mouth but realized she'd not only noticed but realized why he'd done it. He shrugged. “It's just the way I am.”
“I know.” There was that smile he wanted to see, even though it was hesitant. Their eyes locked, and his chest tightened. Why did he fall for dangerous, haunted women?
Hell, had he thought that, that he'd fallen for her?
CHAPTER 15
As soon as the shower started, Erica slipped into the long T-shirt. It was dark blue, so she skipped the bra. The fabric was soft against her skin, and it was freeing to stay in just the shirt, even if only for a short time.
