by I. T. Lucas
“Oh, wow, totally… So what did you do?”
“I tried to make a run for it, but Alex—who by the way is a total creep—got in my way. I really don’t understand how you can be friends with someone like that. Just saying. Then Kian showed up, and I was freaking out because being involved with a mafia boss felt like a death sentence. I was terrified. And yet, when he dragged me onto the dance floor and held me tight, I couldn’t help wanting him like crazy. I was so confused. I couldn’t understand how I could possibly feel safe in his arms while suspecting he was the worst kind of criminal.”
“Fascinating story, and I get what you’re trying to say, but it’s not the same. There is no denying that Dalhu is a murderer, and Kian isn’t really a mafia boss.”
“Here is the thing, though, I’m not sure I would have been able to walk away from Kian even if he turned out to be a criminal. And as to Dalhu, if he is a murderer, then every soldier who has ever killed is a murderer too.”
After a long pause Amanda responded. “No, Syssi, you are wrong. I wish you weren’t, but unfortunately you are. Soldiers fight other soldiers on the battlefield; it is ugly and sad and horrible, but not as horrible as the premeditated, cold-blooded murder of an unarmed man in his own home.”
Sadly, Amanda was absolutely right.
CHAPTER 30: SEBASTIAN
After the swarm of construction workers had left, Sebastian surveyed the job site. The plumbing and electrical in the basement were already in place, and the partition walls for the small rooms—each with its own bathroom—were up and covered in drywall.
The building above was being repainted inside and out, and all the old bathroom fixtures were piled in a huge dumpster outside. Tomorrow, the new fixtures would get delivered and installed, first in the thirty-eight upstairs bathrooms, then once they were ready, in the twenty-one down in the basement.
The only significant change Sebastian had done, besides the basement conversion, was to combine several rooms on the third floor for his own use, adding a luxurious bathroom and a balcony.
In three to four days most of the place would be ready for furniture, except for his suite of rooms which would take longer to complete.
After all, luxury demanded time and attention to detail.
The speed with which things were being done could have never been achieved legally. The basement, full of rooms without windows, would have never been permitted, and the rest of the work, although not violating city codes, would have raised suspicion.
Not to mention the time and money it would have taken to pull the countless permits or the delays caused by waiting for inspections.
Still, even though the old monastery was isolated, with that many workers and material deliveries there was a good chance some city official would eventually show up at the site.
Not that the inspector would have anything to report after meeting Sebastian.
Thank Mortdh, he possessed a strong thralling gift. Influencing the minds of the over fifty construction workers at the end of each day would’ve been time-consuming and exhausting otherwise.
It wasn’t that he was concerned that they would report to the city officials. The illegal workmen his contacts had supplied could not and would not talk to the authorities. But without him planting a suggestion that they really didn’t want to talk about their work, they were bound to gossip to friends and family.
Tom thought Sebastian was being overly cautious, and that it would have sufficed to muddle their memories once the basement was completed, but Sebastian refused to take the chance of the workmen blabbering in the meantime about the underground facility he was building. And anyway, there was the issue of the electric fence, the new massive gate, and the surveillance cameras that were being installed not only all over the facility and its grounds, but also along the road leading up to it.
Sebastian had no doubt that even the lowly workmen had figured out that this kind of security was excessive for an Interfaith Spiritual Retreat.
CHAPTER 31:BHATHIAN
“Okay, so here is the story.” Bhathian sucked back the rest of his beer and set the empty bottle down.
One beer would not cut it if he were to tell that shameful tale. He got up and came back with two more.
“I see it’s going to be a long one…” Andrew saluted with his mostly full bottle, a smirk catching one side of his mouth.
Bhathian felt his glower deepen. It was hard enough to get this story out without snide remarks. “You want to listen or not?”
“Sorry, man, I was just making a joke.”
“Okay.” Bhathian popped the cap off his second beer. “So, thirty-something years ago, on a flight from Edinburgh to LA, the flight attendant I was flirting with invited me to join her for drinks at this little-known bar next to the airport. As it turned out, the place was, still is, a favorite watering hole for many of the transcontinental flights’ stewardesses and pilots.”
Bhathian took a swig of his beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The place was packed with beautiful women, and due to the nature of its transient clientele, unlike the other bars and clubs, there was a never-ending supply of fresh lovelies.”
And the best part? None of the other males in his family had known about it.
He had struck gold.
His private hunting ground.
Andrew saluted with his bottle. “Sweet, my kind of place.”
“That’s where I met Trish.” One of the most beautiful women he had ever met. “Patricia Evans, a first-class flight attendant on the now-defunct TWA.”
Bhathian palmed his bottle. “We went back to her hotel room.” And she had been incomparable. In more ways than one.
“Trish turned out to be one of those rare mortals who cannot be thralled.”
“Not at all? Or just resistant?” Andrew asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not great at it, but I had no trouble with anyone before or since. But anyway, luckily, I figured it out before biting her, otherwise… yeah, it would’ve been one hell of a fuckfest.”
“What did you do?”
“What do you think? I didn’t bite her. We said our goodbyes, and I thought it was the end of it, that I would never see her again.”
It had hurt, because for the first time ever, Bhathian had wanted more with a woman.
“But you did.”
“A month later, she found me at the bar. And I figured, sweet, why not.”
Bhathian closed his eyes at the memory, her image still as vivid as it had been thirty years ago. “I didn’t get to bite her, but she was so fucking gorgeous—with that banging body of hers, and hair so black it was almost blue, and so long it was kissing the top curve of her perfect ass.” He felt his face redden, and he looked away, embarrassed by what he’d said out loud. Too late to take it back, though.
“We went back to her room again, but instead of shucking her clothes, she pulled one of those miniature whisky bottles and handed it to me…”
“You’ll need it,” she told him, a beautiful blush climbing up her cheeks.
He gulped it and lifted a brow.
“I’m pregnant.”
Oh, hell. This was so not what he had been expecting.
“And you think it’s mine?”
“I know it is, I’ve been with no one else for months.” Trish didn’t look upset, if anything, she seemed to glow with joy.
He hated himself for it, but he said it anyway. “I want you to abort it. I’ll pay whatever expenses and loss of income you’ll incur, but there is nothing more I can offer you. I’m sorry.”
Trish looked as if he had slapped her, and in a way, he felt like he had. Though what did she expect? Even if he chose to believe her, and for some reason he did, this pregnancy was the result of a one-night stand, for heaven’s sakes.
“I’m not going to abort my child,” she whispered.
“Trish, be reasonable. I am not what you need, I can’t be. A beautiful woman like you should have no trouble finding a goo
d man. One that will make you happy, be a proper father to your children.”
Damn, he would’ve loved nothing more than a chance to be that man.
“You don’t understand, this is a miracle. I’m forty-five, and I haven’t been on contraceptives for years because I couldn’t get pregnant. And here I am, with a child growing inside me…” Tears began sliding down her cheeks.
“Oh, hell, Trish…” He took her in his arms. “I didn’t know…” and she was forty-five? She looked no older than thirty, and even that was a stretch.
“It’s okay. I didn’t come here expecting anything from you, just thought you’d be happy to know that you’ve created a child… and maybe… maybe put your name on the birth certificate when the time comes…”
Fuck, he couldn’t do even that. All he could do was offer money, and although Trish would no doubt hate it, she would need it.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that…”
“Oh my God, you’re married, aren’t you?”
“No, I didn’t lie about that… it’s just that I have some legal issues…” It was kind of true… “But I can give you money, enough so you and your child will never lack anything.”
Yes, this was good. He could help support her, and maybe get to watch over her and the kid from afar.
“Thank you, that’s very generous of you.”
CHAPTER 32: ANDREW
“Did she take the money?”
Bhathian closed his eyes and shook his head. “I haven’t heard from her since. I kept hoping she’d call, kept going to that bar, but she never came back.”
“Did you try to find her?”
“For a time. I got a hold of her employment record, so I had her address and social security number. I also discovered that she quit her job shortly after talking to me. But when I went looking for her at the address she provided, the place was already rented out to someone else. The manager said that she was never there, and he doubted she ever really lived there. The rent money, however, he said, was arriving in the mail like clockwork until about the same time she quit the airline. Other than that, I wasn’t able to find anything else. It was like she never existed before applying for the job at TWA, and she vanished after quitting it.”
Bhathian rubbed his neck. “Eventually, I gave up and tried not to think about the child I might have somewhere or how Patricia was managing, raising that child by herself. But from time to time I still wonder, you know?”
He cast Andrew a sad look. “When I heard about your connections, I thought maybe you could find out for me—working for the government as you do, and having access to information I wasn’t able to get to.”
Poor guy. The woman had probably used a fake name and social to get the job and had changed it again after quitting it. It wasn’t that unusual. She might have been running from an abusive boyfriend or husband, or maybe even from the law. Or she might’ve been an illegal immigrant. In any case, it would be next to impossible to pick up a trail that was thirty years old. Especially when all he had to go on were a fake name and social, and an approximate age.
Andrew finished what was left of his beer. “You don’t happen to have a picture of her, do you?”
“No.”
“If I hook you up with a forensic artist, could you describe her well enough for him to draw one?”
“Yes, though what good it would do? If she is still alive, Patricia would be seventy-five now.”
“I know, but that’s all we have. A name and social that were probably fake, Patricia’s approximate age, and that of her child, and your memory of her.”
“Fuck.” Bhathian sagged on his barstool and popped the cap off his third beer. “Well, it was worth a shot.”
“Do you still have that social?”
“Yeah, and the address as well.”
“Good. Don’t get your hopes up, but I’m going to look into it. And I’ll hook you up with the forensic artist.”
“Thank you.” Bhathian offered his hand.
Andrew shook on it and clapped the guy’s shoulder. “No problem.”
Damn, the thing was like solid rock—muscles on top of muscles.
Bhathian shifted in his seat, then pushed to his feet. “I’m going to see what’s keeping Kian.” With his head hung low, he pivoted on his heel and strode away.
By the looks of him, the guy wasn’t used to talking about himself, and confiding in another—especially a mortal—must’ve rankled.
Andrew shook his head as he tried to put himself in the guy’s shoes.
To know that he had a son or a daughter that he’d never gotten to see, never gotten to support, to protect, must’ve festered inside Bhathian for the past thirty years.
But then, it would’ve been the same for any decent human being—or immortal.
Kian walked into the kitchen. “Thank you for coming, Andrew. Sorry that I kept you waiting.” He offered his hand.
Apparently, Bhathian’s escort duty was finished.
“No problem, Bhathian took good care of me.” Andrew motioned to the empty lasagna pan and the lineup of beer bottles.
“Good. You ready to go?” Kian waited for Andrew to get up, and together they headed out.
“Any instructions before we talk to the Doomer?” Andrew asked.
“I trust your judgment. Mostly, I want you there to detect his lies. But feel free to ask the Doomer questions if you feel like I’m overlooking something.”
“If I catch him lying, do you want me to tell you later or give you a sign right away? I’d rather not say anything about it, it’s better if he doesn’t know I can do this.”
They stopped in front of the elevator, and Kian punched the down button. “I want to know right away. How about tapping your shoe? Or clearing your throat? I don’t want to chance missing a visual cue.”
“When he lies, I’ll tap my shoe twice.”
Kian gave a nod, and as the elevator door opened with a ping, they got inside, then exited a few seconds later—four levels below.
Down the corridor, Anandur was leaning against the wall next to one of the doors with his arms crossed over his chest.
Andrew slanted a look at Kian. “You think we need him there? Between the two of us, I’m sure we can handle one prisoner.”
The guy grimaced. “Standard protocol. As Regent, I’m supposed to have a bodyguard at all times. I get away with not always following it, but in this case, Anandur insisted.”
“Aren’t you the one making the rules?”
“Nope. This one was Annani’s doing. And as such it is set in stone.”
“I see.” Andrew chuckled.
As he had already figured, the Goddess had the ultimate say.
Tough little lady.
“Good evening, gentlemen, ready to proceed?” Anandur punched the security code into the lock-pad, and the door began its inward swing.
“After you.” Kian motioned for Andrew to enter.
The Doomer was sitting on the couch with his palms down on his thighs, his non-threatening pose belied by the way he was eyeing them with thinly veiled hostility.
But the Doomer had nothing on Kian.
The guy’s hands curled into tight fists, and his eyes began their eerie glow.
Andrew put a hand on Kian’s tight shoulder. “Easy, my man…” he whispered, warily watching Kian’s lips for those monstrous fangs to make an appearance.
With an apparent effort, Kian uncurled his fists and walked over to the bar. “Scotch, anyone?” When no one answered, he poured himself a glass and downed it on a oner, then poured another before sitting down in an armchair across from the Doomer.
Anandur walked over to the small dining table near the bar and planted his butt in a chair.
As Andrew set next to Kian in the other armchair, he took a quick look around. The room was a far cry from the prison cell he had imagined. In fact, it was a lot fancier than his own living room, and through the open door he glimpsed an adjoining bedroom as luxurious as any high-end hotel’s.<
br />
Complete with a large screen television and a game console, the Doomer’s accommodations were fit for a king. He had no reason to look so pissed off.
“Where is Amanda? What have you done with her?” the Doomer bit out.
Aha, so that’s why…
Andrew wasn’t even aware Amanda was gone. Had Kian sent her away? Or what was more likely, she was still here but had smartened up enough to stay away from Dalhu.
“None of your damn business. But I don’t mind telling you that she left of her own volition, not because I forced her to. She finally woke up and realized what a piece of shit you are and doesn’t want to see you.”
The Doomer could not have looked worse if Kian had shot him. He closed his eyes and slumped back into the couch cushions.
Andrew actually felt pity for the bastard. There was nothing worse than shattered hopes.
“I’m going to ask you some questions,” Kian said.
“Why should I tell you anything.” It was more of a statement than a question.
And it wasn’t about defiance either.
The Doomer simply didn’t seem to care about anything. Which wasn’t going to do them any good. He had to give the guy something to hold on to.
Leaning forward, Andrew peered into Dalhu’s dark eyes. “Because even if Amanda never wants to see you again, you still want to make sure she is safe.”
Dalhu sighed and shifted up. “You’re right, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
From the corner of his eye, Andrew caught Kian looking down at the shoe he hadn’t tapped, and a smirk tugged at his mouth.
The Doomer hadn’t lied, though, he’d meant what he’d said.
“Did you take out my men?”
“It was all taken care of,” Kian said in a surprisingly conversational tone.
Was he mellowing out toward the Doomer?
“Good. She can return to her work now. She loves it…” Dalhu’s voice petered out to a near whisper at the end.
