“He’s not a man you want to be around, Briony,” Jebediah cautioned.
“I thought he was your friend.”
“Men like Jack Norton don’t have friends. We know one another. I respect him, but he’s dangerous and I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
“I’ve never understood why you use that word whenever his name comes up. Does it mean he suddenly erupts in rabid rages and shoots people? I’m already pregnant; it’s not like he’s going to want to have mind-blowing sex with me.”
Jebediah winced. “The last thing any brother ever wants to hear is that his sister is having mind-blowing sex. Geez, Bri.” He pulled through the gates of the circus “town” and drove straight to their trailer. He signaled her to stay put and got out, leaving the car running as he surveyed the area around them. “Slide into the driver’s seat and if I don’t come out of the house in one minute, take off. Get away from here, and call this number.” He scribbled a telephone number to the United States on a torn napkin. “Don’t trust anyone else.”
Briony nodded and sat behind the wheel, anxiety rushing over her. For once Jebediah believed her, instead of insisting she was paranoid—and that was just plain frightening. She was relieved when he stuck his head out the door of the trailer and gestured for her to come inside. The moment she was in the house, Jebediah slammed the door closed and ordered Tyrel to keep watch outside.
“They’ll be coming for her,” Jebediah told the brothers. “Pack up now. We’re going to have to get out fast. Grab everything important and leave the rest. Seth, break out the weapons stash; we’re going to need them. Don’t say more than that. Briony, get moving, hon; we don’t have much time.”
“The rain’s beginning to really come down,” Ruben said. “That will help us if we get on the road.”
“What should we tell the others?” Seth asked.
“Absolutely nothing. We don’t want to put anyone else in danger,” Jebediah answered. “The big bastard pulled a gun. Our people here can’t tell them anything if they don’t know anything.”
“His name is Luther.” Briony’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Do you think he was going to shoot me?”
“No, hon, he was going to shoot me.”
Briony’s eyes widened with shock. “Jeb, I can’t stay with you—any of you. One of you could be hurt, or worse, dead like Mom and Dad.”
“Don’t get dumb on us, Bri,” Ruben said. “Whoever these people are, we’ll sort it out.” He threw files into a duffel bag and held it out. “Throw some clothes in here and let’s go.”
“She can’t be carrying anything heavy,” Jebediah objected. “She’s pregnant.”
“How?” Seth demanded.
“Who?” Ruben roared.
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Briony rolled her eyes. “I’ll get my clothes.”
“Hurry,” Jebediah urged.
She hurried to her bedroom, ignoring Ruben shouting questions after her. As she stuffed clothes into a small bag, she heard her brothers arguing over where to go. Rain fell in a steady rhythm, adding to the dark gray of her world. No matter what, her brothers would protect her, and she had a terrible feeling that if Whitney really wanted her back, he wouldn’t stop until he had her—that he’d go right through every member of her family.
Screams pierced the night, and the tigers roared a challenge. Briony stiffened, adrenaline flooding her body. The rain beat down with hard strength, and the tigers continued, a constant unrest, their voices menacing, carrying through the circus town. Shrill screams grew louder, galvanizing her into action. She ran for the door.
Jebediah stopped her. “You stay here. Let us find out what’s going on. Tyrel’s making a sweep around the houses.”
Her brothers raced toward the animal cages to help with whatever emergency there was. As soon as they were out of sight, the back door crashed open. Briony didn’t wait to see what happened or who was there. She ran out the front after her brothers. She refused to call out, not wanting to draw Tyrel into possible danger. She was very fast and she had a good chance of catching Jebediah.
Rain poured down on her, drenching her hair and clothes as she sprinted toward the sounds of disaster. As she flashed past the wind-lashed shrubs, a huge man emerged from the bushes, streaking toward her. Luther. And he wasn’t alone.
Briony nearly ran into a second man, switched directions to avoid him, and found herself trapped between the men and the next trailer. She stopped moving and turned to face them, resolve on her face. She kept her feet beneath her shoulders, standing sideways to present the smallest target, one hand held loosely across her waist and the other up gesturing as she spoke. “What do you want, Luther?” She looked at her hands. They were beginning to shake and her head felt crushed, as if in a vise. The pain was too severe to be just the emotions of the two men, but she could feel the backlash from the crowd over near the tiger cages.
“You. Just come with us now and no one else has to get hurt.”
There was something vaguely familiar about him, something just out of her reach. “What did you do?” Her stomach cramped, and she pressed her hand protectively to the baby.
“Your boyfriend wasn’t feeling too good so we gave him a place to sleep it off,” Luther said. He rubbed his shoulder where she’d slammed the needle into him. “He isn’t going to be helping you with the baby, so you’d better make up your mind to come with us or you won’t have any of your so-called brothers alive either.”
She took a deep breath and glanced toward the animal cages where the crowd had converged. “You hurt Tony?” They had to have, or she wouldn’t be so violently ill. Blood began to trickle from her right ear.
“Worthless piece of trash. You could have had the pick of a dozen men to father your baby. Men worth something. Why the hell you picked that gigolo is beyond me. He screamed like a girl.”
Briony’s mouth went dry. “Why would you hurt him?”
“He had no right to touch you.”
“He—” She broke off abruptly. She didn’t dare tell them Jack Norton was the father of her child. They might decide to kill him. “This is crazy. I don’t understand any of this.” She wiped at the small trail of blood at her ear.
“Come on. You don’t want your brothers hurt,” the other man said, a trace of sympathy in his voice. “Just come with us and no one else is going to die. We’ll explain everything to you. You can’t take much more of this. What if you have a seizure? That would hurt the baby.”
“Don’t play nice with her, Ron, she’s a hellcat,” Luther warned.
“He’s dead? You killed him?” Tony was a handsome man with a ready smile who pitched in without complaint wherever needed. “Why would you do that?” She rubbed her pounding head. Of course they’d done it, because she’d named him the baby’s father. She’d aimed a gun at Tony’s head with her thoughtless statement. “Why does Whitney want my baby?” She was going to be sick in another minute if the pressure in her head didn’t let up. Her vision was beginning to blur.
Ron held out his hand. “Come on. You know they aren’t going to let you run around loose when you’re so valuable to them.”
Briony pushed back her rain-slicked hair and rubbed her eyes to try to clear her vision. “That’s right. I’m valuable. The baby is valuable. I guess that means you can’t use your gun on me.”
“I could shoot you in the leg,” Luther warned, “and after that stunt you pulled with the syringe, I’d enjoy it. Get your ass over here right now.”
Briony shook her head. “I don’t think so. Come and get me.”
“No one wants to hurt you,” Ron said. “Let’s just get this over. Get in the car and we’ll sort it all out.”
Luther pulled a gun and aimed it past Briony. “Your brother is coming this way, and I sure as hell don’t mind shooting him. Get in the car now.”
Briony turned her head to see Tyrel hurrying through the downpour toward her. There was no time for anything but action, and she took it, somersaulting acros
s the ground and going in low to sweep Ron’s legs out from under him. As he went down, she came back up and stomped hard on his wrist, reversing to kick him in the knee, hoping to incapacitate him.
The gun went flying and she dove for it using a second somersault. She was able to scoop it up and continue forward her motion toward her brother. “Catch!” She tossed the gun. With the tremendous reflexes gifted to the Flying Five, Tyrel picked the gun out of the air, shoving his sister behind him as they backed toward their own trailer.
“We can’t get trapped, Tyrel,” she cautioned.
Luther dragged Ron into the cover of the bushes and sent a warning shot that sprayed leaves all over them. “Just hand her over and no one will get hurt,” he called.
“Did they really kill Tony?” Tremors wracked Briony’s body from the violence rushing into the spaces around her. The emotions choked the breath out of her and pounded at her head. She bent over and vomited, unable to stop the cramping in her stomach.
Tyrel kept pushing her back behind him with one arm as they retreated.
“Someone hit him over the head and threw him in with one of the tigers,” her brother answered grimly.
“Damn them. I told them Tony was the father of my baby. I shouldn’t have done that, Tyrel. I shouldn’t have said anything at all.” Deep inside she was crumbling, going to pieces, screaming even. She was directly responsible for Tony’s death, and a big part of her was certain she was connected to the murder of her parents. “Maybe I should go with them. If I stay with you, they’ll try to kill you, Seth, Ruben, and Jebediah.”
“Pull yourself together,” Tyrel snapped. “Do you think for one minute we’d let them take you away from us? Get as far away from this as you can. You’re already sick. In another minute you’re going to go down, Bri, and I can’t watch over you and keep them off of you.”
Briony backpedaled until she reached the edge of the trailer. She wouldn’t allow her disability to compromise Tyrel’s safety. She took a deep breath, let it out, and ignored the shards of glass piercing her skull. She loved Tyrel, and Luther could just go to hell if he was counting on her crumbling under the pressure. She glanced up at the roof while Tyrel exchanged another shot with Luther. Someone would hear the shots and come running right into the middle of a war zone.
“I’m going over the roof, Tyrel, and get behind him.”
He glanced back at her, his expression furious—protective. He could see the sweat on her body, the toll of violence already ripping at her. Pain shot through Briony, but at the same time she was humiliated to think that in spite of her all special gifts, her capabilities, her brothers had to protect her because she was unable to use her speed and agility or marksmanship.
“No, you’re not. These people are playing for keeps. Seth and Ruben and Jebediah will be here any minute and we’ll get you out of here. Just stay put.”
Luther was moving, trying for a better angle on Tyrel. Briony couldn’t stop to think about it, the emotions of all the men swamping her. Anger. Resolve. Luther had an eagerness to destroy—to kill. He was really angry with her—not because of the syringe, but thinking Tony was the father of her baby was somehow a blow to his ego. It made no sense to her, but he was broadcasting loud and clear.
Briony crouched and leapt straight up to the roof, bending low to stay out of sight, running lightly and leaping to the next roof and then the next. From her vantage point she could see the crowd gathered around the tiger’s cage and Randall, the other trainer, inside. Jebediah stood outside with a tranq gun and the tiger lay, sides heaving, head lolling from the knockout shot. Randall bent down to pull Tony’s body away from the big cat.
Below her and just to her right was Luther. He lay flat on the ground, gun in both hands, arms extended, determined to line up a shot on Tyrel.
Beside him, Ron cursed and moaned, holding his kneecap. “I think my leg’s broken. She broke my leg, Luther.”
“Idiot. Why do you think they picked her to mother the kid? I warned you, but you had to fall for her big brown eyes,” Luther spat contemptuously. “Go to the car and get it running. We’ll need to get out of here fast. She can’t hold out much longer, and when I shoot her brother, she’ll go down hard. I’ve been studying her for a while.”
Luther had been studying her? He thought her knew her capabilities and her weaknesses? Briony wiped a smear of blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. He didn’t know the first thing about her determination. The man wasn’t killing her brothers, and he sure wasn’t getting her baby. She lay flat on the roof, anchoring herself as the wind and rain slashed at her, making the roof slick.
Briony focused on the gun in Luther’s hands. Ron began to inch his way back through the brush, toward the car running a few feet away. He dragged his leg, cursing every few feet. She refused to allow her mind to wander, holding to one thought, one action, her entire being focusing on the metal object Luther clutched so tightly.
The metal appeared dark in the rain and shadows, but as she continued to stare at it, it took on a slight glow. Luther suddenly swore and dropped it in the grass. The gun shone with hints of yellow and orange through the gray of the rain. Luther looked around, a small smile suddenly appearing. You’re good. Better than we thought—or hoped. Come home where you belong.
The voice was pitched low, and the vibration running through her body made her stomach knot. Alarm spread through her. What was he doing? It was an attack—but not on her—on the unborn child. Stop it. Feeling desperate, Briony pressed one hand to cover the baby and clutched at the roof with the other to keep from slipping.
The baby should be mine. Come with me or I won’t stop and the useless kid you’re carrying is going to die.
Briony didn’t bother to argue. She could feel Luther’s resolve. He wouldn’t stop until he had Briony. She blocked out her fear for the baby and for herself and concentrated once again on the gun.
You’d better listen to me. I know you can hear me. You were promised to me—meant for me. Get in the car or I’m killing your brother. You know I can do it too.
The gun wiggled in the grass, began to rise, and dropped back to earth. Briony took a deep breath and forced calm into her mind. It didn’t matter what he was thinking or feeling or saying. Only the gun mattered. It was the only thing in her world. It rose slowly, and swung around until the muzzle was aimed straight at Luther.
The most difficult part was to keep the gun in levitation while she focused on the trigger. She’d never actually fired a shot this way, but anything was possible.
Luther turned his head, the movement catching his eye. He rolled out of the line of fire, his hand snaking out so fast it was a blur, knocking the gun back to earth. You should have listened to me.
Briony saw the determination on his face as he slipped back into the bushes. He was going after Tyrel. Without hesitation, she rolled backward, straight off the edge of the roof, turning in midair the way she did during a performance, to land on her feet. Sprinting around the corner of the trailer, she raced back toward her brother.
Luther burst out of the shadows, slapping the gun out of Tyrel’s hand, knife gleaming as he sliced viciously at his jugular. The blade missed by a scant half an inch as Tyrel stumbled back. He did a series of back springs to put several feet between them, but Luther was just as fast, covering the distance in a single leap, the knife slashing fast, over and over, cutting Tyrel’s arms as he tried to defend against the unbelievably fast attack.
Blood splattered in all directions—drops hit Briony as she burst from the garden to strike Luther with the heel of her hand flat on his chest, putting her weight behind it and using every ounce of adrenaline and enhanced strength she had. He slashed with the knife as he fell backward. Briony felt the bite of the blade along her forearm, but she kept going straight at him, kicking at his hand to try to get rid of the blade. She missed his arm, but nailed him in the ribs.
As she attacked again, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Ron emerge
d, limping, gun in hand. Briony leapt at Tyrel, knocking him back as Ron fired off several rounds in rapid succession. Briony and Tyrel hit the ground, rolling away to shelter.
Luther rose and glanced toward the animal cages, where the people were beginning to turn heads. “This isn’t over,” Luther snarled. “And when I get my hands on you, you’re going to wish you were dead.”
Briony kept her head down, trying not to be sick, the pain squeezing her head almost as bad as the day she’d found her parents. Was it possible Luther could amplify what she was feeling?
Tyrel stroked her hair. “How bad, honey? Did he cut you?”
She waited until she heard the car leave before she pushed herself into a sitting position, rocking back and forth. “I’m going to pass out, Tyrel. I can’t have a seizure, I don’t know what it would do to the baby.” She raised her hand to press her palm against her head. Blood dripped steadily.
Tyrel swore. “That’s deep. You need stitches.”
“Maybe we should call Dr. Sparks,” Briony suggested a little hysterically and leaned over and threw up again.
Pounding footsteps announced the arrival of her other brothers. Seth reached down and plucked her out of the wet grass, while Ruben wrapped her arm in his shirt.
“How bad, Tyrel?” Jebediah asked. “You’re all cut up to hell.”
“They’re shallow,” Tyrel confirmed, “but Briony’s needs stitches.”
Jebediah swore. “Get her in the house. I’ll take care of both of you, and then we have to get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Ruben asked. “Why are they suddenly after Briony?”
“She thinks they killed Mom and Dad,” Jebediah said. “And I’m beginning to think she’s right. Get everything out of the safe and let’s go now.”
“Jebediah.” Seth’s voice stopped them all. He was standing in the doorway of Jebediah’s room.
They turned slowly to stare at him. He stepped back to allow them to see the chaos in the trailer. The place had been torn apart and the safe door was open—the contents gone.
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