Goddammit, I needed to kill these bastards. And I would, one way or another. In this life or the next. My teeth ached to tear into them. My hands already steamed with phantom blood—their blood. I fucking hated to think of Tess seeing this—especially after everything I’d done to save her.
Stumbling upright, I glowered at the man holding my woman. “Leave her alone.”
There was no denying I deserved this. After all, I’d put more traffickers down while searching for Tess than the worldwide Interpol had in three years, but it didn’t mean I was prepared to pay their price.
What did they expect?
Money? My life? Torture?
If I knew their end goal, I might be better prepared. I’d know which weapon to use. The only positive thing was they’d come for me. Not her.
The man planted a kiss against Tess’s cheek. She jerked away, only to careen back into his arms as he yanked her back. My spine stiffened, every urge inside saying attack. Fucking attack.
The muzzle of another gun bruised the base of my skull. “You’re no longer in the position of control, Mercer.”
My heart cannonballed but I kept my face blank. “Let’s sort this out here and now. You want cash—fine. Take it.”
He laughed, dragging the gun through my hair till he held it in the middle of my forehead. “We don’t want your fucking money. We want something more than that.”
Tess sobbed, fighting her captor. “Leave him alone!”
Tearing my eyes from her, I steeled myself. “And what is that?”
“Your fucking life of course. You’ve been costly to a lot of associates. Your debts are being called. Time to meet the unemployment line.”
Tess screamed, going nuts. She managed to get free, only to slam into another man’s arms. Her face was white, fear taking her limbs hostage in a jittery dance.
Fucking hell. My heart clawed its way out of my chest to go to her. To tell her it would all be okay. At least they hadn’t killed me in front of her. If they meant to take my life, I wanted it as far away from Tess as possible. I didn’t want her to see that. I didn’t want to haunt her for the rest of her days.
“Fine! Let’s go.” Shoving the asshole away, I strode toward the door—cursing the burn in my leg, doing my best not to limp like a dog about to be put down.
“Where the fuck are you going?” the man yelled.
Stopping, I crossed my arms. Hoping my cocky nonchalant attitude would piss them off. I was still in fucking control. As much as they thought otherwise. “You want me. Fine. I’ll come with you. But not here. Not like this. You leave her alone, and I won’t fight. You can have your fucking vengeance.”
Tess screamed, “No! Q—don’t. You can’t! Don’t leave me.”
My heart hurt worse than the bullet in my leg. Walking away from her would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I wouldn’t put her through anymore. I wouldn’t ruin her mind any more than I already had. I’d done what I needed. She would be okay. In time.
Franco shouted in a ream of French, but I tuned them out. I didn’t need to hear their pleas—this was the only way. Three lives instead of one.
It was a good trade.
My eyes locked with hers. My lungs stopped working at the horror pinching her face. “Pardonne-moi, Tess. Sache que je t'aime jusqu'à la fin des temps et je te retrouverai si ce n’est pas dans cette vie ce sera dans la prochaine.” Forgive me, Tess. Know that I love you till the end of time, and I’ll find you again, if not in this life, then in the next.
Tess’s eyes dried from tears, burning with terrible anger. Her face flushed as she shoved the man away. “Non! Je ne te laisse pas partir. Pas maintenant. Pas après tout!” No! I won’t let you go. Not now. Not after everything!
I wondered if she knew she spoke in French. She was so fierce, her tongue lilting over the language as if she was born to it.
The leader seemed lost for words but the moment I tore my eyes from Tess and opened the door, he leapt into action. Stalking toward me, he pointed at the unconscious man I’d attacked, ordering his troops, “Pick him up. We’re leaving.”
I paused for one last moment before I was shoved out the door—carted away from any happiness I might’ve found.
Please let me see her again.
Tess stood frozen on a sea of white carpet looking part-angel, part-goddess, totally lost and heartbroken.
She shook her head, disbelief bright. “Q—please!”
My heart stayed behind with her—I didn’t need it where I was going.
Au revoir. Goodbye.
The door swung closed.
I might have given in to protect Tess, but I wouldn’t die for nothing.
I would take as many down with me as possible.
I would die with their blood on my tongue.
Chapter Eleven
Tess
Intertwined, tangled, knotted forever, our souls will always be twisted together,
our demons, our monsters belong to the other,
Bow to me, I bow to thee, now we are free
It couldn’t be real.
It can’t.
I didn’t believe it.
I don’t!
The instant the door clicked, blocking me from Q, I felt adrift. Broken. Missing the matching piece of my soul.
I couldn’t handle the amputation of something so fundamental. I couldn’t think straight—my mind kept me frozen, replaying the gunshot, the beating, the never ending sentence of horror: Your fucking life of course.
They meant to kill him. He left so I wouldn’t see. He left to protect me. Always protecting me regardless of his own safety.
Rage.
I’d never felt such a complex mix of rage and absolute helplessness. I should run after them! Go!
I gripped my hair, tugging it hard. My heart thundered, shooting agony through my chest. All instincts said to find a weapon and go. But I had to think clearly.
They’re going to kill him!
There was nothing clear about that.
Go! I couldn’t not go after them. Even though I was utterly useless—an emotional wreck at the upheaval of my close-to-perfect life. Fate had once again took everything—reminding me I was penniless even though Q made me so wealthy.
I couldn’t stand by and let the toll strip me bare. I wouldn’t let Q sacrifice himself. I was going after them. Balling my hands, I ran toward the door.
“Tess. Wait!”
My head whipped around, eyes locking onto a bloody man struggling to his feet.
Franco! Holy hell, I’d completely forgotten about him. Slamming to a halt, I wavered between the door and helping the one man who might be able to save me. He’d been with Q when they hunted for me. He’d have resources, knowledge.
I refused to look away from the door—the horrible door blocking me from the love of my life as he was marched away with a bullet in his thigh.
Another lacerating pain flashed through my stomach at the thought of anything happening to him. It couldn’t. Not to Q. I wouldn’t let it.
He can’t die! Not now.
Then help Franco. He’s your only hope.
Anger heated my body at the realization of my own mortality. I could chase after the men, try to be heroic and leap on their backs and cry and scream…but ultimately all I’d achieve was Q being shot sooner and me joining him.
“Come help me up,” Franco ordered. “Whatever’s going through your head—stop it. It’s not as bad as you think.” His deep voice slapped me out of my disbelieving haze, dragging me back to earth.
Clutching my dress, I whirled around. “Not as bad as I think? Not as bad!” I stalked toward him. “They took him, Franco. They stole him from my arms and shot him.” My eyes burned but no tears fell. I wanted to scream until my throat bled. I wanted to kill every single last one of those bastards who’d taken what I couldn’t live without.
I can’t do this.
You must.
Everything Q had done for me—to make me whole again—te
etered close to cracking. My tower that I’d smashed after Tenerife shivered with its broken bricks, trying to rise from its ashes to claim me.
But I wouldn’t let it. Not this time. This time I wouldn’t be a victim. This time I would win.
Franco manoeuvred his body, hobbling to a knee. A rush of guilt swarmed at not helping him, but I stood concreted to the carpet. So many things inside. So many conflicting, terrible responses as my body and mind battled with what to do.
I’d never felt this way. This lost, angry, terrified kind of way. As a victim, the choice to fight was stripped the moment I was captured. But as the one left behind I had choices, decisions—hope.
But then fear struck, crushing that hope. What if I made the wrong decision? What if I trusted Franco to help but the window of time to get Q back was already gone? I played roulette with Q’s life depending on the decision I made.
Action.
I needed to do something.
But being a statue was all I seemed capable of as scenarios rushed through my head, all ending in horrific ways.
Chasing after Q to find a bullet lodged in his forehead in the lobby.
Not chasing after Q to find they’d sent a ransom note and it would be a simple matter of an exchange.
Chasing after Q only to watch him be tortured—all because of me.
They took him because of me.
“Oh, my God.” Why hadn’t I seen it? I was so stupid. I’d done this. I’d ruined his life. Destroyed it. Demolished it. A sob began, building in girth and volume until I knew I’d explode into pieces if I let it go.
Arms wrapped around me, jerking me close to a metallic smelling shirt and tense broken body. Franco pressed me hard against him, giving me a rock to cling to while my misery threatened to drown me.
“It’s because of me. It’s my fault!”
“Of course it’s your fault.”
My eyes popped wide. He agreed! I couldn’t do it. I curled over, nursing the ball of agony in my heart, wishing to die.
Franco gathered me closer. “It’s your fault he’s happy. It’s your fault he’s finally accepting his past and looking forward to a future he no longer has to hide from.” He winced as his body wobbled. “This would’ve happened with or without you, Tess. You’ve only seen a smidgen of men involved in this industry. But Q knows thousands. He’s personally ate with them, done deals with them. He was welcomed into a world where admission is for life and any misbehaving means death. Yes, hunting for you so recklessly sped up the realization of who Q really was, but it would’ve happened. Eventually.”
He pulled away, looking into my gritty eyes. “And when it happened, he wouldn’t be where he is today. He wouldn’t fight as hard as he will now because he has love giving him power.” His emerald eyes softened. “If they’d come for him, and you weren’t in his life he would’ve fought—of course, but ultimately, he would’ve given in. Because in some fucked-up way he believes he deserves it.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t—”
“You know him—the parts he lets you see at least. But I’ve been with him for nine years. And believe me when I say, he’s always gone through life knowing he would die young. He never came out and said it, but he wasn’t planning for a long life, Tess. He just didn’t have the strength to keep battling whatever is inside him.”
My heart felt as if it’d been mined of all the goodness inside, leaving it riddled with holes. Only Q could patch those holes, and it didn’t matter what decision I went with because the conclusion was all the same.
I would get him back. Just like he saved me. I didn’t have the luxury of second guessing and denial. It was time to go.
Clutching my torn dress, I pulled away from Franco. He stumbled a little, drawing my eyes to his torn trousers and blood-stained shirt. “Shit, Franco. I’m so sorry.” I reached out to touch a gash on his arm only for him to flinch back.
Then I saw it.
A crimson-soaked tie wrapped around his thumb. Or rather…lack of one.
My eyes darted to his, filling with liquid. “What—what did they do?”
He shrugged. “It’s the only access to your room. Key-coded fingerprints. I refused when they asked. Guess they didn’t like that.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the severed appendage.
Bile swashed up my gullet and into my mouth.
I ran.
Skidding into the bathroom, I threw the toilet seat up and purged my system of lychee martinis and Italian entrées in a wicked wave of vomit.
Cold sweat dotted my spine as my stomach convulsed.
Franco’s thumb. They’d cut off his thumb.
I retched again.
If they did that to get to Q, what the hell would they do to him now he was in their clutches?
I moaned, convulsing harder; my soul tried to claw its way out of my mouth.
Gentle fingers whispered across my neck, tugging damp strands, twisting them into a messy bun.
I looked up, still hugging the porcelain. Franco gave me a sad smile. “It’s probably a good thing it’s all out of your system. But we need to go. Do you think you’ll be okay?” I couldn’t help looking at his left hand, saturated in blood, wrapped with his tie around the stump of where his thumb used to be.
My stomach rolled as an image of Q’s fingers being cut off consumed me, but I swallowed hard.
Stop being a fucking girl.
I refused to waste another minute. Wiping my mouth, I stood up and made my way to the sink. Franco shuffled with me, holding my hair so I could wash my face. The broken dress gaped and flashed my breasts but I was beyond caring. Franco and I were well past a bit of flesh. He’d just become my lifeline in order to get Q back.
“Give me one minute,” I croaked through my bile-scalded throat.
Franco nodded, releasing my hair.
Rushing to the wardrobe, I grabbed a thick black jumper and jeans. Shoving the dress down my hips, I quickly yanked the jeans on and threw the sweater over my head, before wedging my feet into some ballet flats.
Franco limped toward me, a slight smirk on his lips. “Have to say that brought back memories of watching you dress into that slinky gold number for Q’s dinner party.” Then his eyes darkened. “Has he told you why he did that yet?”
My mind flashed back to the past—the mermaid filigree dress that hid nothing and offered everything to the Russian in the white jump suit. Shaking my head, I muttered, “No. But whatever his reasoning, I accept it. I knew even then he wasn’t as bad as he came across. I think I loved him the moment you forced me to bow.”
Franco half-smiled. “I only forced you because I understood the look in his eyes. He’d never had that look before.”
Going to him, I slung his arm over my shoulders, taking some of his weight. “What look?” We hobbled to the exit.
It was good to keep my mind on other things. It distracted me from what Q might be suffering—kept me levelheaded.
Franco sighed. “Lust…attraction…maybe even love. Who knows.” Giving me a quick smile, he said, “Either way. I knew he wanted you, and I wanted to see him happy.”
Franco opened the doorknob; we made our way slowly into the corridor.
This is going to take forever. He’s too injured.
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for having Franco’s help, but we needed to go. We needed to hunt. How could we do that if Franco could barely walk and needed urgent surgery?
Franco hissed as I propelled him faster. “There’s a plan in motion. It’s not just us. So you don’t have to panic.”
My heart raced. Q—hold on. “What plan?”
“We had a discussion after Q rescued you. We knew the likelihood of them coming for him was high, so we had a system put in place. It’s already started.” Franco looked at his watch. “I’d say about twenty-five minutes ago—the moment they barged into my room and beat the fuck out of me.”
My body grew hot then cold, roasting then frigid. I wanted to split myself into an army of pe
ople and scour Italy for Q. I wanted to know what plan was in effect.
He can’t die. I won’t let him.
The elevator up ahead pinged, delivering its cargo like a tsunami of weapons and badges. Franco and I slammed to a stop.
“What the—” he muttered as a hoard of policemen all in smart black uniforms and silver brocade rushed toward us.
We stood like an island as a sea of police officers darted past, disappearing into the room we’d just vacated. I blinked. Was this part of the plan? Enlisting the local force to help us track Q?
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. If they were here to help then great…but if they weren’t…
Franco tensed, pushing me away to stand on his own two feet. His jaw ticked as he shoved his bloody, thumb-missing hand into his pocket.
A detective with slicked black hair and greying temples climbed off the lift, coming toward us. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay, sir? Ma’am?”
My heart latched itself to my voice box; I squeaked some stupid reply. My instincts were prickling, warning. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like this. Which was ridiculous as they were the law. We’d done nothing wrong—we were the victims. So why did I suddenly feel like a criminal?
The detective’s gaze fell on Franco, taking in his bloody clothing and protective stance. “What happened here tonight?”
Franco glowered. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”
The officer scowled. “We don’t have to explain our presence to you. Especially when it looks as if we’ve come to a scene of a serious crime.” His eyes pierced mine, looking me up and down.
I was aware of how I must look: white face, smudged mascara, and a jitter that looked as if I was high and needing my next fix. How could I explain the adrenaline in my system was from watching my lover be shot and marched away?
“Ma’am. Did this man hurt you?” His hand fell to his holstered weapon.
“What? No!” I leapt in front of Franco. “Not at all. Look we—”
“Tess—shut up.” Franco yanked me back by my jeans loop. Looking at the officer, he snapped, “You’re interfering. This is a private undercover operation. Now, let us pass.”
Monsters in the Dark Page 100
