Sex was nothing. But mental rape, oh God. Shame throbbed through her. She felt soiled, foul. Her feet drummed, her hands twitched, thinking of those years with Dr. O. How he would crown her, and then force her to--
"Goddamnit, would you stop that?"
The harsh edge of Des's voice jolted her. She stared at him, hurt.
He glared at her. "Stop twitching and jiggling! You're acting crazy! And you look like hell. What do you need, coffee? A drink? A pill?"
"Fuck you, Des," she replied.
"Pull yourself together. Tonight's going to be complicated, and you need to be at your best." His eyes swept over her, dismayed.
"But we can't do Edie tonight! Edie's the only one who--"
"Yeah, I know about your Edie theories, and her perfect brain."
"You promised me I could have her! Why not change the scenario? Have her kill the little sister, and then just disappear! We'll take her! No one will ever find her! It's no more risky than what we're already doing!"
"Things have changed," Des said. "It's too complicated. I agree with Tom. We're cutting our losses. We can't afford a big manhunt, an ongoing investigation. They'll never stop looking for her after what we've got planned, Av. Tom and his men will take care of the McClouds, we take care of Edie and Ronnie, and it ends here, tonight. And I, for one, will be grateful. This fucking thing is starting to get on my nerves."
Ava clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. Curled her toes, pressing them hard against the floor. Her fingers twisted together.
"It's a waste," she said rebelliously. "All the things I could have done, the things I would have learned. The fun you and I could have."
"Sometimes you just have to make personal sacrifices, Av."
"We could have played with the little sister, too, Dessie," she coaxed. "If we bought some more time. She's so young and tender and virginal, hmm? Fresh as a daisy. Just imagine it, hmm?"
"Stop it, Av," he growled. "Don't even try. It's a done deal."
"Now that I think about it, I could have compelled Edie to marry you," she mused. "We didn't think this thing through at all. God, the possibilities, Des. The crown would be easy to hide under a wedding veil. Or I could design a nuptial crown, with decorative dangly bits. A wedding headress. I'd be the bridesmaid. Wouldn't that just be a hoot?"
Des pulled a master crown out of the bag on the center console, and tossed it on her lap. It was followed by a cap made of stretch velvet.
"Get it on," he said. "You might not have time when we get there."
Ava pulled down the visor, and flipped on the light, wincing when she saw her bloodshot eyes, the broken capillaries in her eyelids. Yuck.
It took her shaking fingers twice as long as usual to situate the crown. She pulled the cap on, noting that the red color accentuated her pallor and all the imperfections on her ravaged face. At least it hid the wild snarl of hair. Des had been in such a goddamned hurry after he dragged her out of the supply closet, he hadn't given her time to splash her face or comb her hair. They'd been off like a shot, to do that fat pig bastard Tom's bidding. Licking his toes, like good, obedient doggies.
They pulled up at the gate. The security guard looked at Des. "Good evening, Mr. Marr. Who's your friend?"
"This is Dr. Ava Cheung," Des said. "She's the lady who...well, she was with me this morning, in Charles's office. When it happened." Des gestured the guy closer. "I want to be here for Ronnie and Edie, but I couldn't leave Ava alone," he said, in a stage whisper. "She's been traumatized, and she doesn't have any family of her own here in town. I thought we could all...grieve together. Of course I'll understand if Evelyn or your head of security has a problem with that."
The guy peered in at her. Ava did her best to look lonely and pathetic and traumatized. It wasn't much of a stretch, actually.
"Just a moment." The man stepped away from the car, muttered into his walkie-talkie and waved them through. "Go on in."
"You really are an amazing liar," she told Des as he parked.
He killed the motor. "We all have our gifts," he said.
They were met at the door by Evelyn Morris, Charles Parrish's lemony older sister, and Tanya, her cowlike lump of a daughter. Des introduced them and sketched out Ava's heart-clutching trauma.
Their eyes brimmed over. "Oh, you poor girl," Evelyn quavered.
Ava let her lips tremble, her chin begin to shake. Then her throat, her chest. Soon she was sobbing wildly. The older woman embraced her, weeping. The younger cow got into the action, blubbering and snorting. Ava was stuck in a damp, snorting, sniffling group hug. Dear God, when would it end? She met Des's ironic gaze over the womens' heaving shoulders, and tilted her eyebrow. They all had their gifts, yes.
But some people simply had more of them.
Once through that tiresome ordeal, Ava felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. A pudgy, bespectacled middle-aged man was smiling at her. "Excuse me, Dr. Cheung. I'm Dr. Katz, the family doctor. I wondered if you would like for me to give you something. Just to help you rest."
Not. Drugs would fuck her ability to crown, which would be disastrous. She honked into a tissue and gave him a brave, tremulous smile. "Thank you so much, doctor. But I just have to face it, head-on."
"You're very courageous," Dr. Katz told her solemnly.
"Thank you," she murmured demurely.
"How are Edie and Ronnie doing?" Des asked. "Are they resting?"
Evelyn shook her head, pressing her knuckles against her shaking mouth. "Edie's gone."
The two of them stared. "Gone?" Des demanded. "Gone where?"
"We have no idea." Evelyn's voice sharpened. "She manipulated poor Ronnie into creating a diversion that terrified us all out of our wits. Then she jumped over the wall, stole a car and disappeared."
Ava blinked. She hadn't expected such spirit out of mopey Edie, everybody's favorite scapegoat. "She's out there all alone?" she gasped. "With that murdering lunatic at large? Des, we have to go after her!"
"Yes, we certainly do! Evelyn, can I speak to Ronnie?" Des said, his voice urgent. "If she's gone out to meet that man, we have to hurry!"
Evelyn looked doubtful. "I couldn't get a thing out of her. But go up, do what you can with her. Third floor, second door to the left."
Ava stifled her giggles at Evelyn's choice of words as they started up the stairs. They would do what they could with her. Oh, yes indeedy.
Des gave her a hard stare. "Keep it together, Av."
They knocked on Ronnie's door, and it cracked open. Ronnie's hair was a rat's nest, her face blotchy from crying. "What do you want?"
"Can we come in and talk to you, Ronnie?" Des coaxed.
The girl's face was sullen. "No." She pushed the door.
Des wedged his foot into it. "You have to tell us where Edie went. She's in danger."
Ronnie rolled her eyes. "No shit, Sherlock."
"Then you should be helping," Ava scolded. "Before she falls into the hands of the people who murdered your father!"
Ronnie's eyes flashed. "Edie will be OK. She's going to clear her name, and her boyfriend's name, too. Then you'll all see what dickheads you've been. So why don't you all just piss off?" She kicked Des's foot out of the door. Slam. The door lock clicked.
"That mouthy little shit," Des whispered.
"Want to reconsider the plan?" Ava cooed. "Shall we wait until you have a chance to teach that uppity brat a lesson?"
Des's eyes flashed, tempted. "Don't distract me," he warned. "I have to hurry. She's gone to check on the boxes in the library suite."
Ava's eyes widened. "Oh!"
"Yeah. Thirty boxes of scrap paper won't look good. But if I get there before she does, or at least before she calls..." Des trailed off.
"So? Let's go!" she prompted.
"No, stay here. Stay close to her." He jerked his head toward Ronnie's door, and handed her the bag that held the slave crowns and the syringes loaded with X-Cog 19. "Don't let her out of your sight."
Des left he
r in the padded lair of the Parrish princesses. Ava stared at Ronnie's door for a while, then sauntered up the corridor.
She peered in the next suite, flipped the light switch. Track lighting tenderly swelled in brightness, illuminating a luxurious room lined with bookshelves, carpeted with a costly cream wool rug. A four-poster, covered with a pouffy comforter. An en suite bathroom. Huge shower, hydromassage tub. Her eyes flicked away from her own image in the mirror. She looked so young and vulnerable. Hard-used.
Like she'd been when Dr. O had found her. Fourteen years old, living in flophouses and brothels. She'd run away from her mother's live-in boyfriend, who'd been pimping her out to his drinking buddies, and from a mother who'd been too depressed and alcoholic to care.
Ava looked at the opulent room, thought of the foul places she'd slept. The things she'd done. The things that had been done to her.
Destiny was a heinous bitch. She and Edie were so similar. Eerily so. Same age. Identical test results. And yet, Edie was the princess, sitting on the silken pillow, while Ava huddled in the stinking shit.
There was a jewelry box open on the dresser. Ava poked through it, but there wasn't much. Edie must have taken the fine jewelry to pawn. So she wasn't planning on coming back. Hmm. Des better hurry up.
Ava looked through the drawers. The top ones were stuffed with lingerie. Pretty. She pulled some of it out, considering. Nylon stockings, silk stockings. Scarves. Those would come in handy later on.
She went to the closet, flung it open and gasped, awestruck. Floor length designer gowns. Gorgeous. She peeked at the labels. Dior. Dolce & Gabbana. Milla Schon. Versace. She stroked them. Satins, featherlight silks. Crinkly puffy expanses of taffeta. The sexy heft of lavish beadwork on chiffon, the glitter of brilliants, sequins.
Awww. And nobody understood the poor little pathetic princess poopsie. She had to act out. Run away. Live in a cheap hovel and pretend to be a starving artist. When she had all this. It was offensive.
That stupid, hypocritical, lying, self-indulgent little cunt.
The ripping sound took Ava by surprise. She stared at the skirt of the off-the-shoulder Armani tea gown done in dull bronzy gold chiffon. Rosettes of fabric adorned the gather between the breasts. The empire waist hung loose from the bodice, in tattered swags. She'd torn it off. Her hands were trembling. She forced herself to breathe, backing away from the closet. Her legs shook. Her feet. The earth was shaking beneath her. The bed swung up, broke her fall.
A heavy whump of air escaped from the puffy down coverlet.
She lay there, hugging the leather bag to her chest, wishing that the bed would stop rocking and whirling. She stared up at the night sky through the skylights on the roof. Maybe she would dress Edie in one of these gowns. Something pale, bridelike, that would really show off the blood. Too bad she didn't have any ropes of pearls to dress the princess with. Or a tiara. Like a princess Barbie.
Ava smiled dreamily as she pictured it. Wild hair, big skirt, pale dress. Screaming. Scarlet up to her elbows, clutching the long knife.
It tracked, beautifully. After all, Edie was nuts. Everyone said so.
"So we wipe out the light-sensitive photochips in the security cameras with a laser. Then we toss a few grenades while you jump the wall, run in and get Edie. We blast a hole in the wall so you won't have to climb it on the way out. We have a getaway car ready. Simple. Right?"
Kev lifted his head, and gave Miles a considering look, trying not to let his lips twitch. "I like your style," he said. "Bold, flashy. The only problem with your plan it is that half of us would get killed executing it, and the other half would go to a maximum security prison for thirty years. And they would be justified in sending us there."
"Oh." Miles's shoulders slumped. "Well. Excuse me for helping."
Kev shoved back sweat stiffened hair. "I just wish she'd pick up," he said, rebelliously. "What, are they napping? Today? Jesus."
He dropped his face into his hands again. Unable to tolerate being the focus of so much scrutiny. So self-conscious about the scarring. Intensely conscious of the way that visceral reminder of past pain made his long-lost brothers feel. He'd gotten past it years ago, himself, but they had to process it as if it had just happened.
And they were struggling with it. That was clear to see.
They hadn't talked much since the battle at his apartment. There was a tacit agreement to let Kev off the hook, at least until the imminent threat of death and dismemberment was over. But when that time came, ah God. The weight of it, the enormity. Eighteen lost years.
His brothers understood about the amnesia, intellectually. But they were still pissed at him in their hearts, and he didn't blame them.
It didn't help that the world had blown-up in their faces, quite literally, the second they'd found him. Piss-poor way to kick off an intense, emotionally charged family reunion. But it was just his style.
Every time he looked at Con or Davy, he started to shake. All those years. All those layers of grief and anger and doubt. All the things he didn't know about them, the stuff he'd missed, the stuff he'd never know. It blew his mind. He wasn't coping. The only thing he could do was to keep his head down, his eyes shut. Avoid it all.
Fortunately, they were all good at pushing emotional stuff aside to tend to a job of work. True sons of Crazy Eamon McCloud. But then again. It was that very gift that drove Dad bugfuck, in the end.
Dad. It gave him a dissonant jolt, to have instant, blinding access to his childhood memories again. And they were so vivid. Unfaded and untarnished by time or wear, like normal people's memories. They'd been preserved in pristine condition in that fortress in his mind. It shocked him, to see Con and Davy's faces, two decades older.
And then there was Bruno, seething up there in the front seat. Kev had had sharp words with him about letting Edie out of his sight. His little brother had gotten his feelings hurt. He was sulking, bigtime. Kev didn't have the energy to deal with that, too. Later for Bruno's snit.
The first thing they'd done after getting Sean and Liv to the hospital was to go back to the warehouse complex outside Hillsboro where Kev and Yuliyah had been held, and mount vidcams at the exits, hoping that they weren't being observed by existing security. They'd stuck repeaters to trees and lightpoles at regular intervals, extending the signal to a place where the van could be discreetly parked, and huddled inside it, quiet and tense. So far, so good. No one had bothered them, or appeared to notice them. Davy had found WiFi coverage, and was tapping away at a laptop, making calls, pulling in favors. He'd found the make and model of Ava Cheung's car, and Des Marr's.
Now they just had to figure out what the fuck to do.
The smoke-colored Chevy Astro van they were in belonged to Alex Aaro, a tight mouthed, taciturn Army Rangers buddy of Davy's who had recently moved to Portland and was developing his own security consultancy. Aaro was at the wheel, Bruno was beside him. Miles, Con, Davy and Kev were shoehorned into the back, fighting for remaining oxygen molecules, smelling each other's rank stress sweat.
Marr had showed up shortly after they'd set up. He drove a silver Jag, and pulled into the entrance, turning toward the building where Kev had been held. They watched him park, go in.
Kev stared at the screen, wondering what to do. Block the vehicle when the bastard drove out? Follow him, or yank him out from behind the wheel and beat the shit out of him? Demand the location of the captured girls? If he clammed up, Yuliyah's companions were screwed.
And Jesus, Mary and Joseph, why the fuck didn't Edie call? How could her little sister turn her cell phone off on a day like today?
Unless she'd been forced to turn it off.
He shuddered. Con, who had been talking into his cell phone, felt it. He patted Kev's shoulder until he raised his head and forced himself to look into his older brother's searching eyes. "You OK?" Con asked.
He gave his brother a speaking look, and slumped again.
Con kept on with his conversation, but kept his hand on Kev's shoul
der. "...OK, whatever, but tell Nick and Becca to get their asses up there, fast. I want someone else besides just Val...yeah, yeah, I know, but those guys are deadly, and they've got serious resources."
He hung up, met Kev's questioning look. "That's Seth," he explained. "Friend from way back. Brother of my ex-partner in the FBI. My partner got killed by a mobster. Seth helped us kill the mobster."
"And married the mobster's daughter," Davy added laconically.
Kev was taken aback. "Really? She didn't mind? About her dad?"
Con and Davy exchanged looks. "It's complicated," Con hedged. "A long story. You'll meet him tonight. Raine and Jesse, their baby, are going up at Stone Island tonight, up in the San Juans. Along with Erin and Margot, and the kids."
"Kids?" He looked quickly, back and forth. "You both have kids?"
"Two," Con said. "My youngest is two months old. Madeline. My oldest is three." He cleared his throat. "His name is Kevin."
Kev tried to swallow. His throat was swelling.
"And I've got one. A girl, two. Named Jeannie, for Mom," Davy said. "And, ah...maybe..."
Heads turned. "No way," Miles said. "Really? Wow! You guys breed like bunnies!"
"It's too soon to talk about it," Davy muttered. "But we think so."
Kev's heart was pounding. Jesus. Little kids, babies everywhere. And his crazy shit was putting them all in jeopardy.
"Seth's going to guard Liv and Sean at the hospital," Con said.
Kev let out a dry laugh. "So you think Tony and Rosa aren't enough protection for them?"
Davy snorted. "Tony and Rosa are hell on wheels. Literally. She broke the truck's axle. There's blood on the grill. But more guns never hurt. Tam's on her way down, too. So watch out."
Miles whistled. "Oh, Lord. That means you have to tell her about her earrings and necklaces."
Connor looked defensive. "So? I used them! They saved our asses! That's what they're for! They're supposed to be used, right? Isn't that the idea? Shouldn't she be glad they helped us survive?"
"They weren't yours to use. They were encrusted with diamonds," Miles reminded him glumly. "She's gonna kill your hairy ass."
Fade to Midnight Page 48
