Edgar whips out his cell phone but never removes his gaze from me. “Yes, sir. The apartment. Quickly.” He hangs up.
Oliver was right. I didn’t completely believe it, that Connor was capable of what Oliver claimed, but I haven’t a doubt now. And he’s coming.
I can’t walk. Even if I hold all three against the wall as I leave, they’ll catch me in seconds. I’m screwed. I have to sit tight, see how this plays out. Wait for an opening then escape by any means necessary. Any means.
Not one minute later, the front door opens. I can still barely sit up to watch as Neil and Connor swan into the apartment. If I weren’t already nauseous from the punch the sight of him would do it. I lay down again.
“Is she alright?” Connor asks someone.
“She sprayed him with silver. I washed his face, but—” Avril says.
“Get him home and get him blood. He should be fine.” Connor rounds the couch to face me. His face contorts in anger. “Did someone strike her?”
“It was the only way to immobilize her, sir,” Edgar says. “I had no choice.”
“Wait in the hallway. I shall deal with you later,” Connor snapped.
“Sir, she has been proven violent. She—”
“Go. Now.” Like a good henchman, Edgar nods and walks away without another word of protest. When I hear the door shut, Connor kneels in front of me, trying to catch my gaze. “Are you alright? Should I fetch a doctor?”
“I’m fine,” I pant through the pain. At least I can breathe now. “Why are you doing this? I was just coming to see you in the club. I was just trying to—”
Connor frowns. “I believe we are past pretending, no?” He rises. “I knew I lost you the moment you left last night. Before perhaps. The moment Oliver arrived.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
He holds up his hand to cut short my words. “Please. Stop. At least give me the courtesy of not insulting my intelligence.” He frowns again. “What was it? Our lovemaking tonight?”
What’s the point? I drop the confused expression for my true, pure rage. “Is that what you call it?” I spew. “You…psychopath. You tried to make me your…familiar against my will. You tried to force your soul on me.”
He frowns. “I knew there was little chance of the gambit succeeding, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And it was not an easy decision to make. I never enjoy forcing anything upon a person, you simply left me with little choice. I am sorry. Truly.”
“Little ch…” My mouth flops open, and I sit up despite the pain. We’re not alone. Neil’s by the door, blocking it. “Why?”
“You were leaving me, and I need you,” he states emotionless.
“Need me?”
“Against Antonia. I told you before, you are one of the most powerful psychics in the world. Who would not wish to acquire a nuclear bomb when engaged in war?”
“So this…us…was all about Antonia? You-you slept with me, you made me care about you, you tried to make me…love you just so I’d kill your enemy?”
Connor sits on the couch beside me, his frown growing sympathetic. “Not just,” he says sincerely. He tries to touch my hand, but I yank it away. His frown deepens. “I meant everything I told you. I do like you. I could love you. I truly…wanted to take care of you. I still do. And fairest, please recall, you came to me first. You continued to come back.”
“Because you manipulated me from the start. We-we didn’t just end up in that bistro in LA, did we? You knew those men would be there. You wanted them to attack you so I’d come to your rescue. So I’d be pulled into this crap between the two of you. So I’d…sleep with you.”
“I never manipulated you into my bed,” he says defensively. “You chose to come every time. Even tonight.”
“Really? Those men who attacked us weren’t Antonia’s. They were yours. You know I’m…turned on by danger. They attacked us, they cut me so you could do your insane ritual. How is that not manipulating me, Connor? Just because you didn’t hold me down and rape me doesn’t make what you’ve been doing to me in any way, shape, or form, okay.”
“I was using you as you were using me, merely for different ends, fairest. For you I was solely a means to hide. To forget. To make your Oliver jealous. That is what people do. We use one another. We give and we take. And I was willing to give you your every heart’s desire. Travel. Money. Power. Love. A life free of strife and worry, not just for yourself. Your grandmother could move out of that hovel. Your friend April’s children could attend the finest schools and colleges. If you wished to have children, I would move stars to make it possible. And it is still possible, fairest. Simply forget tonight. If you accept I will never, ever harm you. You can have your bookstore. You can become one of my advisors. Create charities. Save people like Mariah. No more lies, no more tricks. You will become my true partner. My familiar. You will become one of the most powerful people in the supernatural community. Is all that not worth the life of one vampire already set on your destruction?”
For a moment, a fleeting moment, I actually consider the offer. Nana wouldn’t have to count every penny. My godchildren would be set for life. And it’s not as if I would have to necessarily stay with him. He could buy me a house in London or Paris. I’d have my own life, just one bankrolled by him. It sounds…nice. But when the moment passes I instantly hate myself for even contemplating this. For considering selling my soul to this devil for cash. When did I become so shallow?
I lean in so our noses practically touch and stare him in the eye. “My power is not for sale. My conscience is not for sale. My body is not for sale, and my soul sure as heck isn’t. Not for anything.”
Connor leans back. “Very well.” He frowns. “You do, of course, realize if you are not on my side in this…I know where your grandmother lives, Beatrice. Your friend April and children Manuel, Carlos, and Flora. Where they attend school. That Oliver Smythe Montrose is staying at The Hampton Inn, room 304 within my territory. One phone call and I will round them all up. I will lock them up until I take them to the garage one by one, starting with the children, torturing them, right in front of you until you agree to become my familiar. And you must know I cannot let you leave here.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Yeah…what did I say about you using the phrase ‘let me?’” I growl.
With all my mental strength, I fling him upstairs through his open bedroom door. The moment he takes off like a rocket I direct my focus to Neil behind me. I visualize and squeeze his vertebrae hard enough I hear them crack. As Neil howls in pain and collapses to the ground, I leap off the couch. Sadly he’ll be fine by tomorrow, but he can’t run after me now. Which I do. I run. I literally run for my life. Again.
I make it out the front door and immediately notice Edgar coming in from the garage exit. The way I need to go. Before I realize I’m doing it, he’s flying toward me then past me at the rate of a bullet. He hits the wall at the same speed. The wall crumbles around his body as blood splatters around the back of his head and out his nose and eyes. I take off toward the garage and when I reach the stairwell door, I glance back. Edgar’s slumped on the ground, unconscious. Perfect.
Just as I’m about the open the door, there’s movement out of the corner of my eye. My gaze whips that direction again. Connor stands at the apartment door, snarling at me. Then he’s shrieking in agony as his legs crack and twist unnatural angles as I hobble him at the knees. He collapses to the floor like his flunkies as I open the door.
My head throbs like a mother as I sprint down the dark stairwell to the garage. Empty. I continue sprinting toward the closed gate. Shoot, I don’t have a card to open it. How…? Luckily my subconscious is already on the job. The gates flies up, gears grinding in protest. A sharp pain, like an ice pick being stabbed into my prefrontal cortex, makes me cry out. But I keep running.
People and lights. People and lights.
I make it down the small alley to the sidewalks of the Gaslamp district. People and li
ghts, but not good enough. Those people keep staring at me as I hustle down the sidewalk with no destination in mind. Hide. I need to hide. Most of the boutiques are closed but the restaurants are open. Two blocks from the club, when the pain in my head almost blinds me, I have no choice but to seek refuge in a restaurant. The teenage hostess actually gasps when she sees me. “Ma’am are you—”
“There’s a man. He’s stalking me. Can I please hide in your bathroom until the police arrive?” I huff through the agony.
“Uh, yeah, of course,” the teen says. “Let me take you to my manager.”
The teenager leads me through the dim restaurant toward the back. I keep my head down because I guess I must look a fright judging from my escort’s grimace. I finally wipe the wet stuff off my nose and upper lip and see its smeared blood. I must have pulled a telekinetic muscle. I haven’t used the full strength of my power for months. I’m shocked I didn’t pass out.
The hostess knocks on a door marked “Manager,” and a few seconds later it opens. A middle-aged man with a goatee, I assume the manager, takes one look at me and gasps. “Sir, this woman says she’s being stalked.”
“Uh, come in. Come in,” the man says, gesturing me into the small office with only a desk and filing cabinet. “Madison have you called the police or—”
“No, don’t call the police. I need to call my contact in the FBI,” I cut in, falling in the spare chair. “He-he was on his way already. No one else can know I’m here. He’s probably already sent people out looking for me. If anyone does come, just lie. But you’re not in any danger. I swear.”
“Okay, Madison you stay back here with her. I’ll stay up front,” the wonderful manager says before pulling out a first-aid kit from under his desk. “Here. Should we call an ambulance or—”
“No. It’s just a nosebleed. The agent coming is, uh, about six feet, light brown hair, thirtyish, named Agent Montrose.”
“Okay,” the manager says.
“Thank you for this.”
“Of course.” The manager nods to us both before leaving.
I pull out my cell phone from my purse still slung around my torso. Thank Christ for small mercies. Oliver picks up on the second ring. “Trixie?”
“He made his move. I got out. I’m in a restaurant, Il Trattitore on 3rd. The manager’s up front waiting for you, Agent Montrose.”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Grandma and April?”
“I spoke to them. They are both on their way to a hotel. I purchased them rooms at the Sheraton in Chula Vista under false names. I—”
“No, you need to physically go get them. April first. Escort them all the way to their rooms.”
“Trixie, I—”
“He threatened the children,” I cut in. My new best friend Madison gasps. “I’m safe here. And I can defend myself. Make sure they are safe.”
“Very well.”
“Thank you. See you when you get here. Bye.” I hang up and notice my hands are trembling so bad I can barely open the first-aid kit.
As I dry swallow the aspirin, I call my grandmother’s cell phone. She picks up on the third ring. “Bea?”
“Have you left the house?”
“I’m walking to the car right now. What—”
“Just get to the hotel. Don’t let anyone know where you’re going, not Mrs. Ramirez, not Brian, nobody.”
“Did that man hurt you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m safe. Just get to the hotel, okay? And don’t leave.”
“Well, how long will I have to be there?”
A good question I have no answer to. “I…three days, okay,” I lie. “Just three days.” I sniffle some of the blood away. “I-I’m sorry for this. I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t…I…” I can feel the tears coming. No. Nope. I can’t fall apart right now. “Just call me when you reach the hotel room. Oliver’s going to check on you. Don’t let anyone else in until tomorrow morning. I love you.”
“I love you too. Bea—”
I hang up before the tears begin.
“Wh-what happened?” Madison finally finds the courage to ask.
I turn to the teen, smiling sadly. “I learned there’s no such thing as self-destruction. There’s always collateral damage.” And after another sad smile, I lay my arms then head on the desk. I pray this detonation doesn’t completely destroy everyone I love.
Chapter Thirteen
Enemy of My Enemy
The staff at Il Trattitore are lovely in my hour of need. Madison escorts me to the bathroom to clean up. A waiter brings me water and garlic bread sticks. My adrenaline rush comes to a standstill five minutes after I arrive so the shaking begins in earnest and I grow drowsy. I can’t sleep no matter how much I want to because every second I have to be prepared to defend the good Samaritans if Connor’s people come after them. He’s certainly coming after me. The manager calls back twenty minutes after I arrive to tell us someone just stopped by asking after me, but he told him he hadn’t seen me. It doesn’t mean someone else won’t pop by or that the minion believed him. The searcher could have gone to get a posse and planned to slay the whole restaurant for all I knew. That call prompts another adrenaline spike then withdrawal. Where the heck is Oliver?
Poor Madison actually shakes after the call even more than I do. To distract her I begin asking questions about her life. She’s attending classes at my old Alma Mater, the University of San Diego studying psychology. I pray she makes better choices than I did after college. The talk calms us both down enough our trembles stop. She’s telling me about her girlfriend Asha when there’s another knock on the door.
“Trixie?”
I leap up and unlock the door. The moment I lay eyes on Oliver, my strong front blows away. I practically collapse into his open arms. He embraces me back, squeezing so tight it hurts. I don’t care. He could break all my bones and I’d still never want this hug to end. “Are you alright?” he whispers desperately.
“I’m fine. I’m okay.” We continue hugging for apparently too long because the manager clears his throat. I let Oliver go and look at the manager and Madison. “Thank you for everything. Really. You may have saved my life tonight.”
“What should we do if they come back?” the manager asks.
“Tell the truth. I came and got her,” Oliver says. “But they will not trouble you further, I am positive of it.”
“Okay,” the manager says.
“Thank you. Really. Thank you,” I say again before Oliver wraps his arm around my waist and leads me down the tiny hallway back to the restaurant.
People always stare at him, women especially, but when we pass through the restaurant and eyes jut our way, I instantly tense up. I felt relatively safe in the small office but in this semi-open space I’m too exposed. Any one of the dozen or so patrons could be Connor’s agent. They could leap up at any moment and just slit our throats before we even know it’s happening. My body tenses with each step and Oliver squeezes me tighter around the waist to comfort me. It’s worse when we step outside. They could be in any car, they can zoom in from even the tops of buildings. My gaze juts everywhere. Every movement, every person gets my attention. Oliver’s convertible is down the block, and no one attacks us. I can actually breathe once both car doors shut. He had the top up as if he’d anticipated my need for an enclosed space. My savior starts the car and pulls out into traffic.
“Are you truly—” Oliver asks.
“April? The kids?” I cut in, my jaw still trembling from the adrenaline.
“Enjoying their two room Presidential suite as best they can. I checked in on your grandmother as well. She is fine. And hotel security is aware of the situation and will keep an eye on them.”
“Are they…angry?”
“They are frightened and put out, but they will be fine.”
“How? Connor practically owns the city. He’s immortal. He’s pissed. He’s patient. They can’t live in a hotel forever.”
&n
bsp; “We can send them somewhere. Florida and Disney World for a week or two,” Oliver offers. “We shall find a way to make the best of it.”
“Then what? I should have…I should have killed him. Tonight. I should have ripped his heart out of his ribcage. Neil may have killed me, but at least it’d be over. They’d be safe.”
“Do not talk like that. If you had killed him, if you had survived, perhaps even if you had not, there would be no guarantee his followers would not punish your family or me in retaliation. His inner circle are a loyal sort. No, the only way to truly keep them safe is to dismantle his entire organization.”
“Oh, is that all?” I chuckle wryly before the words sink in. All we have to do is topple a centuries old empire when I can barely think or control my own body. My hands, my legs, all of me trembles.
Oliver reaches into the backseat and retrieves a coat, handing it to me. “Here.” I wrap myself in the jacket. It doesn’t help the chills much. I’m not cold, I’m in shock. “Perhaps you should try to sleep. We will not reach our destination for several hours.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To the one place, the one person, who is a true match for Connor.”
“Antonia,” I say. Brilliant. The woman whose men I assaulted. Who I convinced that Connor wasn’t an immediate threat. “She’ll help me? Why?”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he says. “And in this instance, lucky for us, she is actually a friend.”
“Yeah. Friend. And how long exactly have you two been friends?”
He glances over at me. “If by friends you mean lovers, we were together a few years. We came to America together. Braved the ocean, the prairie, and superstitious settlers together.”
“A few years? For you that’s like fifty years of marriage.” I pause. “Did you love her?”
“Depended on the day,” he says with a smirk. I don’t smile back. His drops. “I did. I do. She is one of the few people I ever encountered who has gone out of her way to help me while expecting precious little in return. Sadly I took advantage of that fact one too many times, and she had no choice but to cast me aside.”
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