Dark Embrace

by Angie Sandro

  His fingers move from the scar to sweep my hair over the opposite shoulder. Gently, he massages my neck and then trails his hand down to my shoulder. My muscles relax, and a small moan escapes my lips.

  Anders scoots to the edge of his chair. “Did he make you feel like this when he touched you?”

  Did Ashmael? What does it matter now? I shut off the part of my brain trying to overthink my complicated relationships. This is real. A dream will only ever be a dream.

  I focus on enjoying the warmth of Anders’s hand against my thigh. My legs part, and I lean closer. I slide my hands across his chest, wishing for bare skin instead of a cotton shirt. His heart pounds beneath my palms. Is he as nervous as I am? As turned on?

  His hands settle on my hips, and with a tug, I fall into his arms. He pulls me so I’m straddling his lap. He unbuttons my jeans and slips his hands past the waistband, cupping my bottom in both hands.

  He laughs at my startled expression. “I’ve been obsessed with your ass ever since you flashed me in the hospital.”

  Warmth fills my cheeks, and I press my face against the side of his neck. His body shakes as he laughs…at me. God, I’m so embarrassed. The doorbell rings, saving me from coming up with some lame excuse to cover how silly I feel about my sudden attack of shyness.

  I glance at the clock and frown. “It’s only eight.” Too early for Gabriella to be returning home from her date. Unless Estrada bored her into an early escape with his egotistical droning.

  Anders must think the same. “Does Gabriella have a key?”

  “Yes.” I shift, self-conscious. If Gabriella catches me sitting smack dab on Anders’s lap, she’ll die laughing. I’ll never hear the end of it. Especially after all my denials about being attracted to the sexy man in my arms.

  Anders’s lips nuzzle the juncture between my neck and my shoulder. “Don’t answer it.”

  I want to ignore the doorbell out of spite alone. Who’d be rude enough to keep ringing someone’s doorbell, over and over, without waiting for an answer? A real jerk. And the only jerk I’m acquainted with is kissing my neck. This thought cuts the haze of alcohol-induced bliss clouding my thoughts.

  Anders groans as my thighs tighten around him and I prepare to stand. “Shit. Really, Dena?”

  No…yes, ugh. I don’t want to move. His arms form a protective circle around me, and his muscular chest is perfect for cuddling against. His tongue does some flick/lick thing to my earlobe, and the resulting shiver runs from my head all the way down to curl my toes. My eyes close, and I take a deep breath. I’m losing control.

  No, he’s stealing my control, one kiss…lick…nibble at a time. And I want to let go. So bad. But I can’t with Anders. No matter how delicious his mouth tastes as he kisses me. Or how my body reacts as his tongue duels with mine. If I go too far, too fast, I’ll get hurt again.

  With Ashmael, it’s different. He’s not real.

  A relationship with a spirit won’t complicate my life. I won’t be tempted to think I can have anything long term with him, only to find out he doesn’t feel the same. I need to stop.

  My hands clench Anders’s shoulders, and I push up, breaking the seal of his arms around my waist. Instantly, I miss the heat of his body. “Maybe Gabriella forgot her keys. Besides, we’ve both been drinking. If we stop, there’ll be no regrets tomorrow…” But more than a few right now.

  I adjust my disheveled clothing and stride to the door. Anders follows. A quick look over my shoulder and down to the bulge in his jeans gives clear evidence to his frustration. I give him a sympathetic grin. His frown returns in response.

  Oh well. His reset button has been pressed, and he’s back to being annoyed with me. I’m kind of glad for things to return to normal. This sudden twist in our relationship has me a little too confused. I need time to process my emotions and anger’s a fine distraction.

  Another loud pound hits the door, and a gruff voice yells, “Pizza.”

  I twitch, throwing a guilty glare over my shoulder at Anders. I’d forgotten we ordered pizza. “I’m coming—hold your horses.” I open the door. “Sorry it took so long—”

  The barrel of the sawed-off shotgun pointed at my face cuts short my apology.

  Anders grabs the back of my shirt and jerks me from the doorway. I fly backward, airborne for a long second, then hit the ground, sliding across the hardwood floor. Anders jams his shoulder against the door, slamming it on the gun as it discharges.

  The sound reverberates through the room.

  Screaming, I crawl toward the end of the sofa farthest from the door. Jagged shards from Pepper’s blasted Olmec statue rain down upon my body.

  Anders struggles to hold the door closed, but another hole explodes in the wood, only missing his head by inches. He throws himself to the side, landing on the loveseat and bouncing off the cushion to fall onto the floor. “Stay down!” he yells, pulling his gun. He scrambles across the floor, using the coffee table and sofa to shield himself from the spray of bullets that fill the room, until he reaches my side.

  I peek around the end of the sofa. A large body blocks the doorway. A man wearing a ski mask fires the shotgun in our direction. Anders presses my head down. Heat from a shotgun pellet grazes the side of my face. I cry out, clapping my hand to my bleeding cheek.

  “Keep your head down before it gets blown off!” Anders’s voice sounds muffled through the ringing in my ears.

  The man with the shotgun steps into the room, as if unafraid of retaliation. A second assassin crowds behind, also trying to enter the room. Whoever sent them must’ve said I’d be helpless, but what they hadn’t counted on was Anders being at my house. And Anders is armed. He rises to one knee, shooting. Three bullets hit the man in the upper chest, throwing him back into the second man. Tangled together, they fall to the ground.

  Anders follows. “Sheriff’s Office, put the gun down!” he orders the second man, who is pinned beneath his partner but still trying to shoot us.

  “Anders!” I scream as the man lifts his gun and pulls the trigger.

  Anders staggers to the side, but doesn’t hesitate. He shoots the man twice in the only place visible. Blood and chunks of skull splatter my front step. Pieces of the man’s brain sit in my azaleas. My stomach heaves, and I scramble to my feet.

  Anders’s head jerks up at the sound of my movement. The shock in his eyes turns them completely black. I catch my balance then break for the kitchen. “Are you okay?” he calls after me. “Did you get hit?”

  “Fine…sick.” I choke and wave him back to the bodies. My stomach twists again. I stumble over to the kitchen sink in time for the beer to explode from my stomach with a force that leaves me gasping for air.

  Anders calls 9-1-1 requesting medical assistance, but the only thing those two men need are body bags. The image of the gruesome artwork on Pepper’s front porch flashes through my head, and my stomach heaves again. I stick my head back in the sink. I hadn’t realized I drank so much. On an empty stomach, too.

  A cool hand touches the back of my neck and brushes the hair away from my face. “Anders—” A cloth covers my mouth, cutting off my scream. The sharp edge of a giant knife presses against my throat. I don’t resist as I’m pulled against a wide chest. My brain races to put the pieces together. This third man must’ve come in through the back door while his friends hit the front. So blind…I didn’t see him when I stumbled into the kitchen.

  “You fight, I kill you,” he whispers. His modulated tone is deadly calm and obviously meant to intimidate me with how ruthless and badass he is. I have no doubt in my mind that he means the threat.

  He’s the difference between a professional assassin and a homeless creep who assaults me in an alley. The only reason I still breathe is because he wants me alive. I have absolutely no doubt about that either.

  I nod, and his arm loosens. He pulls me toward the back door. The whole time I think that Anders will notice I’m missing and check on me, but apparently he’s lost interest in my well-be
ing after he heard me puking my guts out.

  The man forces me into the backyard. Sirens wail in the distance, heading in our direction, but they’re still far enough away that he doesn’t seem nervous. He holds onto my arm and drags me through the neighbor’s yard, keeping us in the shadows. With each step, we get farther from Anders.

  When the man judges it’s safe, he begins to run and pulls me after him. I stumble, feet tangling together. I try to keep my balance, but he yanks on my arm, almost wrenching it from its socket. I choke on a scream.

  “Keep up,” he orders.

  “I can’t,” I gasp, trying to pull away. “Too fast!”

  “Not fast enough.” He jerks on my arm again. This time I do scream. I focus on my legs, willing them to steady. I imagine them moving…

  “Faster, faster, must run faster,” I chant. Before he gets pissed and kills me is how it ends in my head. I concentrate so hard on running that I’m not aware of our speed until I glance up. Trees whip past my eyes—charcoal-dark smudges staining the night. In the blink of an eye, we’re past them. Flying…it’s like I’m flying.

  CHAPTER 15

  Bionic Upgrade

  What the hell am I thinking?

  Shock has screwed with my mind. There’s no other reason to explain leaving the house with a man holding a knife. I’ll be an even bigger fool to keep running farther from Anders and safety.

  Rather than fighting the hold on my arm, I stop running and let my legs go slack. The pain in my shoulder as it’s wrenched in the socket is instantaneous. I cry out, jerking my arm toward my chest, and pretend to faint. Not much of stretch of my acting skills, given I’m out of breath and exhausted from running at speeds a horse would have trouble maintaining.

  As I crumple to the ground, the man curses. He drags me by the arm for a few feet before he realizes I’m not budging. Too afraid to keep my eyes closed, I watch him from behind half-closed eyelids. He looms over me, barely breathing hard. He toes me in the side, and I moan.

  A stronger kick in the side. “Get up!”

  I grit my teeth and hold my breath so I won’t scream. The bastard still holds the knife. I can’t fight until it’s out of the way. I won’t get stabbed by accident, like the last time.

  He curses again.

  Now I’ll know his true motivation. If he wants me dead, he’ll use the knife. If I’m needed alive, he’ll put the knife away and pick me up. My chest hurts from holding my breath for so long. My muscles keep tensing up, but I force myself to appear unconscious.

  Bastard shoves the knife in his belt sheath and bends over. Finally!

  I mule-kick him in the chest.

  He flies through the air and slams into the passenger door of a car parked on the side of the street. The impact of his body against the metal rings out like a gunshot, and the door crumples. He collapses in a boneless heap.

  My breath hiccups as it rushes from my lungs. I sit up and run a trembling hand down my leg. It feels normal, but it can’t be. It’s got to be bionic.

  Clearly, I’ve gotten an upgrade.

  The man’s concaved torso jerks upright. He inhales, and his head lifts. A flap of skin brushes his cheek. Black blood oozes down his neck from where his ear used to be attached. He lifts a hand and pushes the ear back into place. It sticks as if hot-glued back on. He pushes up from the ground, sliding his body up the car until he’s on his feet.

  “What the fuck?” I slap a hand over my mouth. Shit on toast. I’m so screwed. I wasted my opportunity to escape without a fight.

  He stands, ignoring the fact that my kick shattered most of his ribs. Hell, they’re already moving back into place. The pop of reknitting cartilage makes my skin crawl. He points the knife in my direction.

  Oh crap. My hands fly up over my head in surrender. “Sorry.”

  The bastard spits a wad of blood at his feet then smiles with black-stained teeth. His gloating rubs me raw.

  I drop my hands and ball them into fists. “No, screw being sorry. That was badass.”

  The man wipes his bloody hand across his chest. “Yeah, good kick. They said you’d been Xena Warrior Princess’ed. I thought this was too easy.”

  “Well, I didn’t know.” Confidence floods my body as my endorphins kick in. I may not be bionic, but I’m not a normal human anymore either. “Now that I do, I’m not going without a fight. Do you think you can take me on?”

  “That was a cheap shot. I wasn’t expecting it.” He flashes another black smile. “It’s one thing to be super-powered and another to be able to fight. Can you fight, little girl?” He pivots his body and lowers into a boxer’s crouch. The hand fisted around the knife stays pointed in my direction. “’Cause I’m willing to bet you’re all talk. Get up. Now!”

  I roll to my knees, but getting up is a lot harder than falling down. When I put weight on my ankle, pain shoots up my leg. “Ow, ouch!”

  “Think I’m falling for that again?” The man shakes his head. “If you’ve been given the juice then you can heal. Boss said to bring you alive, but I think that’s too much trouble.”

  “Well, if your boss wants me alive…alive it should be,” I say, considering his words. The pain in my ankle has begun to fade, but he doesn’t need to know. “Besides, maybe I didn’t get super healing with the juice…whatever that’s supposed to be? I don’t suppose you know?”

  “I’m only told what’s needed to complete my job.” He steps forward. The flap of skin that peeled off has fused back to his head. He’s been juiced, too. If it comes down to a fight, I’ve got no real advantage over him.

  He stares with narrowed eyes at the hand I hold out to him.

  I flutter my fingers in the air. “A little help up, please? You win. You’re better and stronger, and I’m a helpless woman who’s fallen into your evil clutches.”

  God, I hate pretending to be weak. Or stupid. But it works. He grabs my hand and yanks me forward so hard that I almost face plant onto the hood of the car. I catch my balance and turn toward him. I’ve procrastinated for as long as possible, but time has run out. I need to make a decision.

  He opens the undented back passenger door. “Get in.”

  “Do I look like I’m outta my damned mind? There’s no way I’m stealing a car. Stealing is against the law.”

  “So is kidnapping.”

  “Yeah, another reason why I’m not going anywhere with you.” I run around the front of the car, moving so fast my surroundings blur. I blink to refocus my vision, trying to get over the dizziness. I need to get my head together or I don’t stand a chance. “What the hell’s going on with my body? Who told you to kidnap me? Is it the person who took over Magnolia’s criminal empire? Tell me before you kill me, ’cause I’m not going anywhere with you, asshole.”

  He leaps forward, sliding across the hood of the car like a stunt man in a movie. I jump back, expecting to land on the trunk of the car. Instead, I fly through the air and land in a crouch twenty yards away.

  I slant a stunned grimace over my shoulder. “Cool,” I whisper and sprint toward home.

  This time I keep my wits and push my legs to the point where the muscles ache. The man follows. He runs faster than I do, but I have a head start. I maintain my lead until we’re a couple of houses from Pepper’s. He grabs a hunk of hair, and my head snaps back.

  “Jerk!” I scream, whirling around. “You almost broke my neck.”

  I grab my hair, tugging it from his hand. At the same time, I spin into a roundhouse kick. His nose breaks with a loud crack, and he grunts. “Nobody ever believes me when I say I know martial arts—two years of Tae Kwon Do at the youth center.” I bounce back on the pads of my feet then jump into a front kick that doubles him over. “Plus, I’m on expert level in kickboxing—Billy Blanks, baby!”

  Panting, since his nose hasn’t healed enough to allow him to breathe through it, the man raises the knife. “Enough. You got questions. Well, my boss’s got answers. She’ll tell you all about how you got juiced. Think you’re fast
now, just wait. Healing, quick reflexes—those things are just baby steps.”

  I freeze, hands rising in the air. “Why am I wanted alive now? What changed?”

  “Someone else put a bounty on your head—fifty grand—dead or alive. Think you can fight off every bounty hunter in North America? Think you can protect your friends or that detective sniffing around if they get in the way? Come with me. You’re one of us, Xena, and we protect our own.”

  Damn, if he’s telling the truth, then those assassins won’t stop coming after me until I’m dead or captured. My friends are in danger. Anders could’ve been killed tonight. Is my life more important than theirs? A life I shouldn’t even be living. I got a second chance, and I don’t even know why. But maybe this guy’s boss does. And getting answers is worth the risk.

  I let my fists drop. “My name’s Dena, not Xena,” I drawl, infusing my tone with false bravado. “And since I’m a survivor, I’d be a fool to refuse your protection.”

  He gives a smug smile and sheathes his knife. “Good choice.”

  “Yeah? Well, if you’d explained the situation instead of kidnapping me, I wouldn’t have broken your spine.” I walk over to the man.

  He pulls a cell out of his pocket and makes a call. “I’ve got her,” he says, then hangs up. He gives me a sharklike grin. So pleased with himself. But I guess he’s got a right to gloat. He just earned fifty thousand dollars with my capture.

  His fingers wrap around my wrist, like a shackle. “Time to go.”

  Black rage fills my mind, and I snatch my arm from his grasp with a snarl. His cell phone falls to the ground, and I pick it up with a warning. “Touch me again without permission and I’ll break your fingers.”

  The guy holds out his hand, laughing. “Sorry, Xena.”