Figures.
Brooke tossed the mask aside, still keeping her back to the men. She put on the black workout pants in record time, ripping off the stupid skirt she’d been forced to wear. It was pointless and the last thing she wanted to be in while dealing with the men coming. She yanked off the barely there costume top and yanked on an exercise cami.
“What are you doing?” asked Stacey, touching Brooke’s arm.
She grabbed the running shoes from the bag and put them on, knowing she couldn’t run in the heels she worked in. “Get out of here, Stacey! These guys don’t screw around.”
The blond’s eyes widened. “What’s going on? Who are you talking about?”
“The men in the outer area of the VIP section. They have Glen and are demanding he tell them if I’m here.” Brooke glanced in the direction of the door. “We don’t have much time.”
“Wait, are you saying you can hear what is happening in the other room?” asked Stacey, disbelief resonating in her voice. “No way. What the hell are you doing? I could really use the extra tips tonight. It’s not the night to flip out.”
“Listen, stay if you want, but they will kill you. They won’t believe that you don’t know how to find me,” stated Brooke clearly. “I don’t much like you but I don’t want you dead either.”
“Ouch, fuck, man, let me go,” cried Glen from just outside of the room. “She’s in the VIP room giving a lap dance to a rich guy. You broke my arm!”
“Tut, relax,” said Auberi. “Let us see how this plays out.”
Brooke reached into her bag again and yanked out several throwing knives. She tucked them into the back of her waistband and put the cami over them.
“Shit!” shouted Stacey. “You have weapons in here? What’s happening? Do you know how to use those?”
“Get the hell out of here!” yelled Joe a second before a shot went off.
Stacey began to scream as a group of men in suits flooded into the room, all armed, and none seeming too worried about getting caught. The front one locked gazes with Brooke and his lips curved upwards. She knew him well, though only by his last name, which was what everyone called him.
Johnson.
“You’re a hard bitch to track down,” Johnson said, pointing a gun at her. “Come quietly or I splatter the brains of everyone in this room. Want that on your conscience, 53?”
She tensed at the shorted version of the label she’d worn for nearly eight months. Test Subject53B.
Brooke didn’t want anyone hurt because of her. Not again. She needed to get the high rollers and Stacey to safety.
She put her hands up slowly.
Johnson’s grin widened, looking even more sinister. “Good girl. Now, walk slowly over here.”
A low growl sounded from behind her, but she didn’t dare take her gaze from the men who had entered the room. She did, however, throw her power at the high-rollers, keeping them in place and coated in protective energy.
Johnson looked towards the high rollers. “Playing the hero will get you a bullet between the eyes. The bitch is coming with us.”
“Don’t hurt anyone,” said Brooke as she took a step in Johnson’s direction.
He glanced at a big guy to his left that Brooke didn’t remember from her time being held. “Grab the girl. Be careful, she’s a wily one.”
The guy didn’t look convinced. “She’s smoking hot. Doesn’t look like she could put up much of a fight though.”
“Do not touch her.”
Brooke tensed, her entire body tingling at the sound of a voice that matched Malik’s. She knew it was the man she’d been giving a lap dance to, but that didn’t mean she could shake the thought of Malik from her head.
Johnson looked past her. “Willing to die for a whore?”
The sound that came from Tut was identical to the noise Malik had made when Haneez, whom she’d used to think of as Mr. Rings, had called her a whore at the resort five years back.
Brooke couldn’t stop herself as she turned to face the high rollers fully. There were simply too many similarities for her to ignore or rationalize away. As she locked gazes with Tut, who was still in his mask, he gasped.
She looked back at Johnson.
“Please don’t do anything,” she said, tearing up. “I don’t want anyone else’s blood on my hands. I have enough as it is. Let them all go and I’ll let you take me without a fight.”
“No!” yelled the man in the mask.
Johnson laughed. “I’ll consider letting them live. And we know all about the blood on your hands. They tell me they had a lot of fun torturing your boyfriend before granting him death.”
Brooke flinched. “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“Right. I forgot,” said Johnson snidely. “The guy you gave it to right before they took you. They tell me he cried like a little bitch before they slit his throat.”
Unable to stop the tears from falling, Brooke surrendered to them. She closed her eyes and kept her hands up. “Stop. Please. I don’t need to be told about it again. Haneez told me about it in detail enough.”
Johnson snorted. “Haneez has it bad for you. So does the boss. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gives us fat bonus checks and then takes you away somewhere private and keeps you all for himself. Tell me, how many times have you handed it out to him?”
Tut growled louder this time.
Brooke stared at him and Auberi. “Please. Stop. They’ll kill you.”
Someone grabbed hold of her by the back of the neck, jerking her hard, making Tut growl more.
Auberi spoke. “Patience, Tut.”
The man holding Brooke laughed, sounding young. He pressed his face to her neck, inhaling deeply. “Have you smelled her, Johnson? She smells good enough to eat.”
Johnson snorted. “Yeah. They did something to her that has that effect on a lot of us. Careful, she’s more than just a pretty face.”
The guy pushed his face into her neck. “What are you?”
Growling, Johnson looked at the man next to her. “Bring her and kill the witnesses.”
The very idea that the man in the mask would be hurt left Brooke reacting. She threw her elbow into the man near her, kneed him, and then grabbed for his sidearm. She yanked him in front of her to use as a shield as Johnson fired at her, hitting the guy instead.
Stacey wailed like a banshee.
Johnson and the men with him came at her in force. Brooke blocked out everything, including the man in the mask as he yelled. She dropped the man they’d shot and turned quickly, kicking one of the men before pointing the weapon at him and pulling the trigger as she aimed at his heart.
She sensed something coming at her from the side and ducked, just as a clawed hand went past her head. She came up fast, shooting the man who had just tried to take her head clean off. She scored a direct hit between his eyes. She shot another just as the gun was knocked from her hand, skating across the floor next to the man in the mask.
Two men tackled her and one did a partial shift. He lifted his clawed hand and rammed it through her shoulder. Brooke didn’t make a sound, but she did thrust magik at them, knocking them off her. She hissed as pain radiated through her shoulder. She ran and slid across the floor, nearly running into the wall of power holding the man in the mask and his friend. She snatched the weapon with her good arm and turned onto her back, firing at more of the men.
The pain grew to unbearable levels. She thumped her head on the floor and dropped the weapon to rub the area that was hurt. A fair amount of blood was running free from her. “I am really fucking sick to death of getting clawed.”
She hissed again and knew her eyes were going from olive green to a bright, vibrant emerald green. In an instant, her shoulder healed over fully.
Gasps sounded behind her, and she looked at the high rollers, who were within touching distance of her. The men looked stunned. She grinned even though the situation wasn’t amusing. “So, my day blows. Yours?”
“Behind you!” shouted th
e French one.
Brooke spun, kicking out wide. She grabbed the man’s head and twisted fast, snapping his neck, grabbing his weapon and lifting it straight out. She shot at Johnson, who dodged the head shot but ended up taking the bullet in his stomach.
The remaining four men watched her carefully.
“Kill her!” Johnson yelled.
The other men gulped.
Brooke grinned and kept aiming at them. “Willing to die for that asshole?”
“What is she?” one asked. “She smells like a mix. Did they make her that?”
Johnson made a move to come at her and she shot him in the upper thigh, causing him to fall to one knee. She shot his other upper thigh, making him cry out. “I am going to enjoy ending you, bitch!”
She blinked, her eyes returning to normal. “Yeah, I’m shaking here. Really.”
The men behind Johnson radiated fear.
Johnson snarled. “If she gets away, Elm will kill us all.”
Fear rushed over her at the mention of Elm. The man was even worse than Haneez. As far as she could tell, he was one of the higher-ups from the facility she’d been held at. And he was anything but human.
She’d not seen him since she’d escaped and prayed she’d never see him again.
As the temperature began to drop in the room, she knew her prayers weren’t being answered. Elm had arrived.
Johnson bit his lower lip. “Smells like the boss is here. Someone is going to pay for running out on him. And you can’t possibly stand against him. He’s as old as time, bitch!”
A tall, sinewy man with long white-blond hair entered the room. He was dressed in a fitted high-end suit and from all appearances, he looked a lot like a sexy rich guy. He was, but his heart made him hideous.
He came to a stop next to Johnson and touched the wolf-shifter’s shoulder. “Now, Johnson, is that any way to speak to my future wife?”
The guy in the mask growled again.
“Tut, not smart,” said Auberi. “Can’t you smell that?”
Brooke tensed. Did Auberi know Elm wasn’t human? Could he sense the power that Elm held?
Elm’s green gaze locked on her. “Now, Brooke, are dangerous toys really necessary?”
He lifted a hand and the weapon was torn from her grip.
Elm looked to her and smiled, licking his lips. “You are even more beautiful than I remember. And a great deal smaller.”
She stiffened.
“Tell me, did it survive?” he asked, and Brooke knew exactly who he was talking about. His lip curled. “Wrong that I hope it didn’t? But, I can’t give you one so it will have to do. That is, if those higher than me don’t already have great plans for it.”
Johnson laughed, pushing to his feet, grunting as he did. “Can I have the redhead when we find her?”
Elm nodded. “I don’t see why not. But don’t break her. This one obeys better when those she loves are at risk. Isn’t that right, Brooke?”
Stacey began to scream again, and Elm looked in her direction, lifted a hand, and Stacey’s body was propelled across the room. She struck the wall so hard that there was no way she could have survived.
Brooke made a move to go for her but Elm walked towards her. “Leave it. It’s dead.”
“You don’t have to hurt anyone else,” she said, digging deep to find the courage she’d worked so hard to obtain since she last saw him.
“I didn’t have to. I wanted to,” said Elm, glancing past her at the high rollers. He looked at the injured and dead men that he’d sent for her. “Is this your handiwork or did you have help? Was it the were-shark? He’s always been so protective of you.”
Brooke found her resolve and narrowed her gaze on him.
He was staring past her again, at the high rollers.
“What do we have here?” he asked.
Brooke put her body in the path of the men and shook her head. “No one. They’re no one. Just clients here.”
He glanced around, a look of disgust on his face. “This is where you work? What you’ve been reduced to?”
“A whore is as a whore does,” said Johnson, wetting his lips with his tongue.
Elm went eerily still before turning his head slowly in Johnson’s direction. “What have I told you?”
Johnson gulped and sweat appeared on his brow. “Not to call her a whore.”
Elm smiled but it never reached his eyes. “Now, Brooke, this charade has gone on long enough. You’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with your future. Come with me now, and I will let the rest of the people in this establishment live. Resist, and I will have my men kill each one slowly.”
One of the men she hadn’t killed yet leaned over. “Boss, what is that smell on her?”
Elm squared his shoulders. “Fae.”
“No other Fae chick I’ve smelled was this good,” said the man.
“She’s from my line,” said Elm. “Women among our line are rare. Probably why her father tried so hard to hide her with a human as a child. He was smart to suppress her gifts, leaving her smelling human for so long.”
The man in the mask sounded strained.
“The redhead smells the same,” said Johnson.
Elm nodded. “Because she too is from my line. Not surprising the two found one another. Like seeks like.”
“So you want to bang your sister?” asked another of the men.
Elm centered his icy gaze on the man. “Of my line does not mean related to me. You are a wolf, yes? Are you related to everyone in your pack?”
“No,” the guy said.
Brooke closed her eyes, trying desperately to keep her mind from going back to the time she was held prisoner by Elm and others like him. Back to the worst months of her life. The time when she learned monsters were real and she was one of them.
Pull it together, she said to herself. If you let him win, he’ll destroy everyone you love.
She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I’m not going back with you. I’ll never go back to that place.”
Elm grinned. “Brooke, you misunderstand. I have no intention of returning you to the holding cells. I’ve bargained with them to keep you for myself.”
Tut growled so loudly that there was no way to ignore it.
“You can’t win this, Tut,” said Auberi. “Trying will be your end.”
“Smart man,” said Elm, narrowing his gaze on the men. He threw power at them and Brooke looked to them, fearing they’d be dead.
They weren’t. Her magik had somehow managed to block Elm’s.
“I’m never going to be some fucked-up version of a wife to you, sicko. I hate you,” said Brooke, wanting to keep Elm’s attention on her and off the men behind her.
Elm grinned. “Now Brooke, is that any way to speak to your future husband?”
She flipped him off.
He snorted. “While you are gifted, you are no match for me. Do not force me to harm you. I will,” he said, looking hopeful that he’d get to do it.
She narrowed her gaze on him, knowing how he liked to mentally torture others in addition to physically torturing them. And she knew how he didn’t like being questioned or challenged. “Aww, Elm, I’m disappointed. You talk a big game but really, you need a bunch of punk-ass flunkies to do your dirty work. If I’m so limited in my skill set, why not just come and get me yourself?”
“Boss, want us to shut the bitch up?” asked Johnson, making a move to come at Brooke.
Elm threw magik at Johnson and all the rest of the men, thrusting them back against the walls of the room, pinning them in place. He set his sights on Brooke and removed his jacket, casting it aside before he rolled up his sleeves, his gaze never leaving her.
He moved to her in four long strides and began to circle her slowly, licking his lips as he stared at her. “You are so beautiful, Brooke. I dislike knowing I will have to beat you into submission. But I will be quick about it.”
She stayed aware of where he was at all times. “Pfft, bet a lot of
women already know just how quick you can be.”
He came at her from behind and she ducked and twisted around, avoiding being hit.
He looked gleeful. “Interesting. You are faster than you were when last we met.”
Because I’m not eight months pregnant, jerkoff.
He came at her again, with skill and precision, making a move to strike her in the face. She leaned back out of his reach and came up, punching him in the jaw.
The men in the room gasped.
Elm smiled more, wiping blood from his lip. “You have more fire than I thought. That means fucking you will be that much more fun. I was holding back, worried I’d harm you too much, but Brooke…I will hold back no more.”
“Do you like to hear the sound of your own voice? Because I gotta tell you, it grates on my last nerve,” she said.
His gaze darkened. When he lunged for her, he did it at an incredible speed.
She spun and extended her leg, kicking him in the chest, knocking him back from her. She ran at him and leapt in the air, spinning in motion, kicking him again, knocking him back more. She didn’t stop. Rage for what he’d put her through led her actions.
He caught her with a backhand, hitting her jaw, knocking her off her feet.
He lifted his hands and balls of blue flames appeared in them. She rolled as he threw one at her. Brooke kept rolling, just missing the strikes.
“You cannot stand against me and win, Brooke. I am thousands of years old. You are not. And no one has ever taught you how to wield the gifts you were born with,” he said.
She let her power build and grabbed a knife from the back of her pants, throwing it at him. It embedded in his arm.
He hissed and then laughed. “You do have a lot of fight in you.”
He formed a bigger blue ball of fire and threw it at her.
Brooke tossed her hands up and white light came out of her palms, going to the blue ball of fire, making it dissipate.
He gasped. “How?”
She sprang to her feet and they began to circle one another.
He threw a hand up and wind hit her, but she held her ground, refusing to budge. She, in turn, hit him with a blast of wind as well, and he slid back on the floor.
He ripped up and off the floor as if pulled by strings, his skin shimmering, his hair lifting slightly as though he were standing in a breeze. His eyes began to glow. “Brooke, continue and I will be your end. I am not your average Fae. I am so very much more.”
Act of Passion: An Immortal Ops World Novel (PSI-Ops / Immortal Ops Book 5) Page 12
