Then Chloe is still here! Sam quickened his pace, moving toward the house. The Fallon woman said security had looked “everywhere.” Jack’s security guards were human, though. They weren’t him.
Sam stopped cold. There was a man standing in the shadow of the porch. Winspear.
The doctor beckoned.
Suspicion, anger and worry collided. Sam stormed toward him with the brute fury of an avalanche. He hadn’t seen him since the night of the firefight at the gazebo. The night Winspear had snatched the fake wedding dress.
He grabbed Plague by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the side of the porch. “What in the nine hells are you up to?”
The doctor looked tired, his already pale face bone-white with strain. “Hello to you, too, Sam.”
“You’ve gone over to their side. Why?”
“Have I?”
“You shot at us. You shot at Chloe!”
“And the little minx shot back and actually hit me. Believe me, if I wanted you dead, you’d be pushing up daisies. For centuries I earned my livelihood taking out oafs like you.”
There was every chance that someone could pass by and see their argument, but there was no one around right then. That was good enough for Sam. He closed one hand around Winspear’s windpipe, lifting him enough that his feet dangled free.
Sam realized the low, vibrating growl was coming from him. Fury swirled in his gut. Chloe was in danger, and so much of it seemed woven around the doctor’s betrayal.
Within seconds, Plague began to struggle, a strangled noise rattling from his throat. Suffocation wouldn’t kill him, but a crushed windpipe would be painful. Severing his spine would finish the job.
“Wait!” he managed to croak.
Sam released him, but just enough so that he could speak. With a violent push, Winspear broke the hold the rest of the way.
“Listen to me, Ralston. Two Knights are ransacking Jack’s study. They’re looking for the diamonds. I caught a glimpse of Carter, too. He’s the leak. He’s betrayed us to the Knights.”
Sam had suspected it, but Winspear’s words still fell like a blow. “So have you.”
“No. I’ve been working both sides to find out who the informant is. That’s why I was at the gazebo. When the grapevine hummed with word that you were going to hand off the dress, I had to know who showed up. I also wanted to make sure the diamonds were safe.”
Irritation flashed through Sam. “The dress was a decoy. I’m not that stupid.”
“I couldn’t take that chance. You’ve always followed orders to the letter.”
“It seems we’re getting bad orders these days.”
“I’m sorry. I know Carter was your maker. I couldn’t take the chance that you’d side with him if I decided to take him down. You’re loyal, Sam.”
Sam’s brain was righting itself, feeling as bruised and sore as someone who’d fallen down a long flight of stairs. Winspear had been undercover. It made sense. It was also a huge relief. Something unknotted in his heart, and he stepped back, giving the doctor room.
“I’m loyal to the Horsemen.”
“Good.” A smile flickered over Winspear’s face, and was gone.
Sam gripped his friend’s arm, an apology without words. “Carter knows our names, how we work, everything. If he tells the Knights of Vidon...”
Winspear nodded slowly. “Our vulnerabilities will be exposed. He wants to take the diamonds and run. If he slips through our fingers today, we may never catch him.”
Sam spoke the words that had been pounding through him like a pulse. “Chloe’s missing.”
Winspear’s face grew paler still. “They think she’s the key to the dress. We have to find Carter now.”
Chapter 29
Carter prowled the room. Chloe followed the restless movements, her stomach squeezing a little tighter every time he changed direction. It was as if he were winding himself up, the spring of his nerves—and hers—cranking tighter with every circuit.
Carter was her only guard. Before they’d left for the study, the two Pietros had lashed her feet together and bound her to the chair with thick nylon rope. Then they’d cut the zip tie binding her hands and then secured her hands behind her with her own silk scarf. Someone had forgotten to bring extra zips. It didn’t matter. They knew their business; there was no way she was loosening the knots.
Carter went back and forth. He looked as if he was as tense as she was. Unless he snapped out of it, all those demons he ranted about might come out and play.
Chloe took a shaking breath. “Mr. Carter?”
His head snapped around in a disturbingly snakelike motion.
“Why are you working with those men? Pietro’s brothers?”
He was silent long enough that she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he spoke in a quiet voice. “I have worked for the Company for centuries, but nothing changes. I would say that whatever experiment Marcari has run has been allowed to go on long enough.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Vampires, even with the most rigorous discipline, cannot be wholly tamed. They’ve been allowed to exist long enough. My intention is that the Knights of Vidon prevail.”
Chloe didn’t pretend to understand, but she grasped enough to almost feel pity. Carter had murdered his family, and his sense of guilt had eventually driven him crazy. Somewhere in the kaleidoscope of that madness, he’d decided controlling other vampires with an iron fist was no longer enough. Only the ultimate act of control—killing them—was going to satisfy his self-loathing. It would mean destroying himself, but not until he’d done as much damage to the Company as he could.
But she still had one question. “What do you want with Princess Amelie’s wedding dress?”
The overhead light cast harsh shadows over the rough-hewn lines of his face. “To level the playing field. Marcari has monsters. Vidon has few resources to match that. The diamonds will go a long way to buying humankind a fighting chance.”
As he spoke, he’d moved closer and closer until she could feel the brush of his clothes against her. By the look in Carter’s eyes, his demons were feeling frisky. Involuntarily, she jerked, scooting the chair an inch to the right.
He didn’t seem to notice, but just stared down at her like a bird sizing up a worm.
I have to keep him talking. “Then where did my uncle fit in?”
He scowled, distracted.
Good.
“Jack? He suspected what I was doing, so I stopped him before he could interfere.”
Her brain stopped for a moment, frozen by sheer fury. Then heat began creeping up her body, like a flame of rage rushing up from her belly. “You killed him!”
She flung herself against her bonds.
“No.” Carter’s look was almost a sneer. “But I caused it to be done.”
Her chest shredded inside. The pain and loss felt like pieces of her soul falling away, leaving only an ache in their place. “I hate you.” Her voice was dull, the words spoken without much emotion at all. She hurt beyond ranting.
Carter’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “It’s an understandable reaction. Nevertheless it had to be done.”
“I loved him. He looked after me.” All of a sudden her anger began to rush back. Her throat began to close, choked by a need to scream and cry. Maybe tear Carter’s head off his shoulders.
“When faced with true darkness, love doesn’t matter.”
Chloe looked into his face, studying it hard. There wasn’t any remorse. He’s crazy. Absolutely mad.
A cold, clinical need to survive took over. Rage wouldn’t help her. Her wits might. “What about Jessica Lark?”
Carter shrugged. “I don’t know who killed her. I don’t know why. She didn’t have the diamonds when she died. Lark di
dn’t matter anymore.”
“Did you know Uncle Jack had them?”
“Not until you pulled them out of his safe, little girl. That was one deadly inheritance.”
“How did you know out about the safe?”
“We had a man on the inside.”
The one Sam had found dead in the car. So many dead. Chloe swallowed down fresh horror. Details were falling into place, but there was no time now to think about what they meant. Not unless she wanted to join the body count.
Carter reached out to touch her, maybe put a hand on her shoulder. Chloe jerked again, the chair skidding farther to the right. Carter stepped forward, reaching, and she tried to repeat the motion. Instead, the chair overbalanced, tipping her over backward.
Chloe yelped, trying to tuck and roll. Bound as she was, she was helpless as a doll. The impact drove the slats of the chair into her back. Pain fountained through her hands as they were crushed between the chair and the floor.
Nausea swam through her, not helped by the fact she was nearly upside down, her head toward the wall and the empty shelving partially obscuring her view. They’d tied her feet together, but hadn’t bound them to the chair legs. They dangled awkwardly, her right foot minus its shoe.
Carter loomed over her, hands on his hips, but she couldn’t see anything above his collar. “I think we’ve talked enough, little Chloe.” His hands moved to linger over the weapons strapped to his sides.
Sam, now would be a good time to rescue me.
A twitch of Carter’s fingers sent adrenaline rushing through her. Her feet kicked up, knocking the long wooden shelves from their brackets. Chloe angled the move forward, so the clattering boards flew at Carter. He jumped back to avoid them. A few of the brackets unhooked from the strapping, falling to the floor with a ring of metal. One skidded under Carter’s heel, sending him tumbling to the ground.
The move also rolled the chair. The knots in the fat nylon rope slipped enough to let her wriggle upward, working the loops of rope over the top of the chair. She tucked her legs up, catching her heels on the seat of the chair and pushed. The chair scraped along the floor, and then she was free of it. The entire maneuver took no more than seconds.
She managed to push herself to her feet. Her ankles were lashed too tightly together to do more than wobble. Bracing herself against the wall was the best she could do.
Carter was already standing, watching her with grim amusement. Letting the mouse run a bit before he batted it with his paw. Fine. Let him.
“Hope can be such a sad emotion in the end,” Carter said, reaching her in two strides.
He grabbed her throat and began squeezing. He could have shot her, but something in his face said hands-on murder would be so much more satisfying. He would drag it out by inches.
Chloe felt her pulse pounding, echoing through her skull. Breath wouldn’t come. She writhed, feeling the delicate architecture of her throat begin to crush. She made a gagging, gurgling noise she’d never heard any creature make before.
He was just too strong to fight back.
I’m going to die.
* * *
They caught two Knights of Vidon in Jack’s study, sizing up the safe. Moments later, Sam and Winspear were dragging the two down the service stairway.
“Where’s Carter?” Sam tightened his grip on the captive man’s arm to a crushing pressure. “Where is Chloe Anderson?”
The question reverberated in the empty stairwell. Sam was aware of the distant murmur of voices, the smell of cooking, the pale beige paint of the walls. Most of all, he was conscious of the bruising flesh beneath his fingers. Soon, it would be breaking bone.
He had to find Chloe.
The man let out a ragged groan. Winspear’s Knight winced, his eyes flying wide at the sound. “Stop it! You already killed one brother!”
Sam saw his opportunity. “Who?”
“Pietro!”
“I didn’t kill him. Carter snapped his neck to keep him from talking.”
“Impossible!”
Sam met the man’s gaze. He had limited sympathy for slayers, but Carter had murdered their brother when he was helpless and then lied about it. That offended his sense of honor. “Believe what you like, but I’m telling you the truth.”
The Knight doing the talking didn’t say another word, but grew deathly pale.
Sam knew he had him. “I’ll let this brother live if you answer my question.”
One word escaped the bloodless lips. “Basement.”
Sam released his grip, feeling his prisoner sag in relief. “Let’s go.”
Once they were down the stairs, it took little encouragement to extract which room Chloe and Carter were in.
“How about we use their heads for battering rams?” Sam growled when confronted with the storeroom’s locked door.
“Too mushy.” Winspear banged it open with one well-planted kick.
Sam tossed the Knights through the door. They flailed nicely until the floor stopped them. Mark drew his weapon, training it on the men. Sam pushed past them, a half dozen strides taking him into the cellar. As he moved, he swept the area with the nose of his gun. There were shelves and metal brackets strewn across the floor.
Sam turned just in time to see Chloe dangling from Carter’s hand. She crumpled to the floor when Sam’s maker released her throat.
He froze, not wanting to comprehend what he was seeing. Chloe! Memories, feelings, hopes smashed together, leaving him blind and deaf for a split second. Everything he cared about was plummeting into the abyss, about to shatter beyond repair.
She wasn’t dead—yet—but she was badly hurt, breath rasping through her horribly bruised throat. And, with Carter armed and only inches away, she was still in terrible danger. Sam ached to run to her, but first he had to destroy the threat.
His fangs came out. “You hurt my woman.”
“You’re mine,” Carter said. “My tool. My War.”
“Never again.” Sam’s voice came out in a rasp.
“Your duty is to me.”
Words. Words didn’t have a place in Sam’s head right then. Rage reared up inside him like a dragon unfurling huge, black wings.
Carter didn’t seem to understand that he was about to perish. “You know I’m right. You’re the straight arrow.”
“You betrayed us to the Knights. That makes you the target.”
Sam moved in a blur, closing the distance between them and smashing his fist into Carter’s face. He didn’t hold back. In one wrench, he tore his maker’s shoulder holster apart, flinging his weapons across the room. The move had been easy because Carter had not expected it. The older vampire blocked the next blow, showing his teeth in a savage hiss. The fight was on.
It had to end quickly. Chloe was hurt. Drawing his gun, Sam aimed for the head, but Carter kicked it from his hand in a move even Sam’s vampire sight didn’t catch. A roundhouse kick followed, forcing Sam to fall back. Behind him, Mark was yelling something. Sam could feel the tide of the fight struggling to turn against him.
No. He dove forward, ducking under Carter’s guard to grapple him. For a moment it was a battle of raw power, strength against brutal strength. Sam had the physical advantage, but Carter had fought him time and again on the training field. There were few moves he didn’t know.
Except Carter didn’t practice with a werewolf. Sam twisted, thinking to fling the other man down. It was the same move he had used on Kenyon the last time he’d run the testing field.
But Chloe sat up. Sam’s heart leaped with relief.
It was the distraction Carter needed. He slammed Sam to the ground instead. Sam’s teeth rattled with the force of the blow. Carter’s eyes were wild as he tried to pin him, but Sam rolled, breaking Carter’s grip. Cold metal pressed into his hip. He groped, hoping f
or a blade.
It was a metal bracket, the type that held up cheap shelving. Sam barely registered the fact before he plunged it into Carter’s throat. Blood spurted, showering Sam, the floor, the walls and ceiling.
A wound to the throat wasn’t enough to kill a vampire, but it would slow him down. Or so he thought. Carter pounced. This time Sam grabbed him, wrestling his maker to the floor like he had the wolf. This time, there was no mistake.
He wrenched the bracket from Carter’s throat, and then plunged it into the vampire’s heart. Rage began to separate into distinct thoughts and images. The wreck of Jack’s car. Carter’s lies that night at the Salmon Tail. Chloe crumpled on the floor.
Mark kicked Sam the gun he had dropped. He picked it up. “No one hurts my friends.” Sam aimed the piece. “And no one hurts the woman I love.”
Carter’s head exploded. The blast rang through the tiny room like a grenade. Sam rose and looked down at his handiwork. Not even an undead was coming back from that.
Instantly, he went to Chloe, who was staring at him with wide, amazed eyes. She had pulled herself to a sitting position, propped against the wall. She held herself stiffly, taking quick, shallow breaths. She was obviously in pain. He fell to his knees beside her. “You need a doctor. Winspear!”
“Holding bad guys prisoner over here. If you want to cover them, I’d be delighted to help.”
Sam wanted to go and needed to stay. He wrenched apart the silk scarf binding her wrists. Chloe clutched his sleeve, her grip weak as a baby’s. He covered her chilled hand with his own, feeling the ache in her swollen, red fingers like it was his own.
“Just hold me,” she whispered. “That’s all I need.”
“I’m filthy.”
“I don’t care.” She leaned into him, and he gathered her in his arms and held her as she wept out the aftermath of fear and pain. “You came when I needed you.”
“Always.” He pressed his lips to her hair and clung to the light that had finally broken the chains of his lonely darkness.
Possessed by a Warrior Page 24
