by Angel Payne
“Suck my dick, Mua.”
“You both stay put, Zsycho,” boomed Franz. Zeke watched him direct the other guys to round up Mua’s men and lead them into the reception tent. “These mates will be leaving the party soon.” Without taking his eyes off Mua, he called out again, “Ladies and gentlemen, we hope that directive will include you soon, as well. Until we know what mischief our friends are up to, we don’t want to endanger anybody. Thank you for your patience.”
Surprisingly, that phrase cut loose the opposite effect on Mua. The man released a savage yip, his face twisting tight. “Your presumptions disgust me, Franzen. I’m a businessman, not a fucking savage. Set the peasants free. They mean nothing to me.”
“Which is why you’d think nothing of blowing them all up to get what you want.”
The accusation made a bunch of women in the crowd whimper. Beneath him, Rayna didn’t make a move or a sound. He only knew she was terrified because his hand was flattened beneath her breasts, feeling every terrified thrum of her heart. “It’s going to be okay.” He pressed every word to her ear in a determined whisper.
“Franzen, you know what I want.” Mua’s voice was still a lethal drawl. “Let’s stop wasting each other’s time.”
Zeke watched Franz widen his stance and steady his gun. “Sergeants Weston and Chestain aren’t on this bargaining table.”
“Acchh. Weston isn’t my concern anymore.” He waved a dismissive hand. “As much as I would relish watching the little bitch scream for the part she played in King’s demise, I am, as stated, a businessman. A knocked-up slut is of no use to me.” The slick surety slid down to his lips. “There. Now I have sliced your dilemma in half.”
“You’ve changed nothing.” Franz took a careful step toward him. “We’re done with this bullshit.”
“Why don’t you let Sergeant Chestain be the arbiter of that?”
“I told you already, asshole. Rayna doesn’t come anywhere near this discussion.”
“She might disagree with you, Franzen.” Though Mua complied with the shove Ethan gave him, driving him down to his knees, his smile didn’t waver. Zeke craned his neck, determined to keep watching the bastard even if he had to do it through a sea of folding chairs and a shitload of aisle ribbons. “She might really disagree with you, once she asks Zeke how his little wound is doing.”
Z’s chest suddenly throbbed. Though the pain was real, it was intensified by the horror that now tiptoed out from the edges of his brain and laughed at him in full, wicked glory. It had been lurking there since yesterday—since the moment Luna had hugged him and “accidentally” bumped his injury. He’d had enough gouges taken out of him over the years to know that a “bump” wasn’t supposed to yield the kind of pain he’d experienced after that—but he’d written off his suspicions to the stress of the wedding and the stupidity of being paranoid about everything from hangnails to overly-friendly trash collectors.
“Holy shit,” he choked.
Rayna threw a stunned stare back at him. “Z? What—what is it?”
He wasn’t being paranoid.
It wasn’t just a bump.
It hadn’t been just an accident.
“It’s a chip.” He tore off his tie and ripped free the top buttons of his dress shirt. “Holy fuck. It makes sense now.” With his shirt loosened, he could finally get at his upper back. He instantly went for Rayna’s careful bandage work—and clawed it off. “They got it into me during the bust-up on Saturday night. It was why that round-faced asshole let me go at him with the chain like that. He was using that chance to put it into me.” He looked down at Rayna, still so goddamn gorgeous and perfect against the grass, and he struggled to form clear thoughts. Even one clear thought.
“What?” she demanded. “He put what into you? Damn it Zeke, what is it?”
He met her gaze directly. “A tracking chip.”
“A what?”
Her shriek blew their location even if her bolt upright didn’t. Zeke grabbed both her wrists, keeping her pinned to the ground at least, but the action didn’t help this time. It didn’t stop the coil of dread that unfurled now at exponential speed, pulling all his logic from him…all his control.
“They knew we were up at the cabin the whole time.” He let her go to claw again at the wound, tearing at his skin, grimacing from the pain but continuing on. “They knew because of me. Every move we made. They were probably watching us the whole time.”
Mua’s evil was inside him.
Being used against Rayna. Against Rayna.
He clawed harder at his back.
“Zeke!” The fear in Rayna’s voice drew him back to her. “Stop it! You’re tearing yourself up!”
Mua’s hearty laugh burst down the aisle as if they’d merely shown up late at a cocktail party. “Ahhh, there she is! Rayna, my dear, how lovely you are. The royal hues suit you well.”
“Shut up,” Franzen ordered. “Archer, if he so much as sneezes again, fill his ass full of lead then make your way to his brain. Slowly.”
“Roger,” Ethan uttered. “Gladly.”
“No!”
Before Zeke could move, Rayna squirmed free of him with frantic fury. She threw off her heels and started racing down the aisle. He bellowed her name, making it an unmistakable order to stop, but if the fury in her head matched the wrath of her steps, she was too consumed to hear or care. He stumbled to his feet and went after her. Too late. The little lunatic swept right past Franzen and launched herself at Mua, slapping him hard across the face.
“What the hell have you done to him?” She swung her hand the other way, clipping him with a backhand that made even Z’s eyes bug. “I’m here, you giant ball of stinking rat sweat, so spit it out.” When Mua didn’t make a sound or lift a single finger at her, she seethed, “You think you can get at us with a stupid little tracking chip? Is that your idea of playing rough, Mua? Oooo, I’m really scared now.”
Zeke took a stance next to Franz. After his CO assured himself Z was okay, he lurched to pull the plug on the confrontation with Rayna. Zeke backhanded the man’s chest. “Let her run with this.” Part of him was proud as hell of her for standing up to the vermin who’d sent his goons after her in the street in front of Bastille. But another part sensed, as deep as the cells of his blood, that Mua had more in this game than tracking them here. The mongrel was obsessed with her. That much was clear now. He wasn’t leaving the country unless Rayna was with him. But where was his leverage for making that happen? Rayna had just paraphrased as much, and the confidence of it followed every step she paced in front of Mua now. Z watched every move she made, ready to pounce if the asswipe even swayed her direction.
“Okay, since you won’t talk, asshole, I will,” she continued. “I’ve got a scalpel in the basic kit in my car that’ll get that ridiculous chip out. Thirty minutes after they haul your sorry, skinny buttocks into the darkest hole they can find for you, I’ll have that thing out of Zeke.” She stopped and leaned over him. “Whatever your purpose was here—blackmail, fear tactics, I don’t know—won’t work anymore, Mua. None of it ever did. Your media smear tactic for Z didn’t work. Tracking us into the mountains didn’t, either. And now, this pathetic attempt at hijacking a wedding is your most stupid idea yet. You’re done.”
Zeke longed to let out a whoop of triumph before swooping her into his arms and kissing her blind. But he waited. And watched. Something about the subtle quirks at the edges of Mua’s lips held him back from unlatching the last chain on his jubilance.
Damn it.
The man’s quirks turned into soft chuckles. Then a burst of laughter.
“Oh, little Rayna, how you amuse me,” Mua finally sneered. With a teasing bite of his lower lip, he went on, “I thank you for the clever recap of all our recent adventures. But I guarantee this is only the beginning of a colorful journey for us both.”
Rayna crossed her arms and smiled. “You’re going to prison, Mua. For good this time.”
The man released his lip.
And returned her smile. “I’m going to walk out of here in fifteen minutes. A car with a full tank will be waiting for my use. And you’ll come with me, Rayna. Willingly.”
Rayna let out a laugh now. But Franzen didn’t join her. Neither did Zeke. The dark snakes in his blood slithered faster, flashing fangs that were set to chomp on him any second. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuuuuck. This isn’t good.”
Rayna cocked a saucy pose and finally quipped , “You going to enlighten me on how that plan will roll for you, Willie Wonka?”
Mua siphoned out a calm breath. “King and I invested some sizable amounts of money into researching new technology for insertable human chip technology.”
“Of course you did,” she spat.
He let her slur pass with a mild roll of his eyes. “We already knew from the widespread use of chips as tracking devices for pets, cattle, and research animals, that the chips worked for basic tracking purposes. Our main concern centered new attachments for disciplinary uses.” At that, his gaze shifted to Zeke. “You, Sergeant Hayes, are the inaugural recipient of such a chip.”
Rayna’s sass was dynamited by stiff fear. “Wh-what?” Her eyes, darkened by horror and hatred, locked on Mua. “What the hell are you saying?”
The man didn’t detract his stare from Zeke. “But you already knew, didn’t you?” His inspection went from interested to openly curious. “It feels different, doesn’t it?”
Zeke parted his lips, baring his teeth. Did the fucker think he was going to give up an answer that easily? “You used Luna for it,” he snarled instead. “Yesterday. Right?”
“Luna?” exclaimed Rayna. “What about Luna?”
“We ‘ran into her’ yesterday. She hugged me good-bye—in a really weird way. That was what triggered it. It was that goddamn hug.”
Mua curved a small smirk. “I admire her, you know. She’s a very determined young lady. Willing to do the hard work to get what she wants.”
Rayna stumbled forward. Her chin shook. Zeke balled his hands to control himself from hauling her over and crushing her to his side. But he had a feeling, a bad one, even that wasn’t going to help this time.
“What the hell does that mean?” she finally demanded.
“Hmm,” Mua said. “Let me try to be simple. When your little friend Luna embraced your big lover Zeke yesterday, she officially unveiled the newest phase of our insertable discipline technology. A vial attached to his chip was activated, releasing a dose of concentrated neurotoxins into his bloodstream.”
“What?” Franzen barked.
“What?” Rayna gasped.
“Fuck,” Zeke muttered. But then weirdly, he laughed. If they were playing on the same side, Mua’s ingenuity would actually be impressive. “All right, let me go next,” he went on, directing a glare right back at the urbane asshole. “You control the on and off button to this thing, right? And as long as Rayna is Stateside, the button stays on.”
Mua’s hands were still raised in front of his shoulders. But with a subtle flick of his right wrist, he got his sleeve lowered to expose a silver contraption that looked like a fancy watch. Embedded into it were a row of buttons that all glowed green, next to a little slider bar. “The slider’s position means the chip is set at the lowest secretion right now,” he explained, looking at Rayna, “And it shall remain that way, as long as you leave with me right now.”
“The fuck she will.” Okay, this shit scared him. But it was no worse than a HALO jump behind enemy lines at midnight. Or going home to find out you didn’t have a home anymore. Just like those times, he wrapped himself around the defense that saved his ass every time. Pure defiance.
Mua went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “If we receive clearance for a flight by the end of the day, Sergeant Hayes will emerge from this escapade with nothing more than treatable dizziness, sleeplessness, and a little muscle pain. If we’re delayed or if your friends throw ‘snags’ at us, the slider gets moved.”
Rayna hadn’t said a word. Hell, she barely moved. The terrified depths of her eyes spread their misery across her face as she finally looked at him. Her lips shook as she whispered desperately to him. “Oh, God. Oh, Zeke.”
He fought for something to say. Nothing emerged but a horrible, haunted growl. Meeting her eyes…he could barely stomach it. She was the monster’s property again because of the poison that had been shoved into him. Because of the evil that lived in him.
“No.”
It was hardly a word once it tore out of his lips. The letters ceased to be consonant and vowel, more a vehement rebellion that began in his gut and curled into his whole body. “She’s not going to do it, you filthy fuckwad.” He clutched her close, inhaling her, feeling her, branding her onto the mind he’d likely lose in another second. “She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours!”
With his lips against her neck, he growled, “Because. You’re. Mine.”
Mua let out a prissy snort. And as Z had expected, clicked a button on his wrist.
Fuck.
He expected the toxin blast to be like a nuclear drop. A flash of light, blissful nothing. Kaboom. Done. He’d either be dead or rocking turnip salad for a brain; either scenario ended Mua’s hold over Rayna forever. And Franz and Runway would finally have their legal justification for plowing the bastard full of lead.
Trouble was, the shit was more like napalm. Thick as lava, burning like his blood had turned into the River Styx. He moaned and it wasn’t pretty. It was a messy, shitty hell. He fell away from Rayna, rolled to the ground and felt a chair go flying from his kick. Inside seconds, he was on his way to a full seizure.
“Zeke!” Rayna’s scream tore into his brain like a meat cleaver dipped in battery acid. “Oh my God, no! Noooo! Turn it off! Turn it off now!”
“Rayn-n-n-na.” He had no damn idea how his mouth formed the word. “No. No, god-d-d-damnit!” Or those, either.
“Who am I listening to, Rayna?” Mua’s voice was full of sickening silk.
“Me!” Zeke shouted.
“Me!” she cried. “I swear to God, Mua, if you don’t turn it off now, I’m not moving another inch!”
“N-n-n-ot moving anyway.” Holy hell, why did he have to have such a high pain threshold? He should be unconscious by now. No. Stay aware. Stay alive. Keep her alive. “You—not—moving. I—order—it!”
“And I am not your sub.”
“Rayna!”
“Mua, turn it off.”
The bomb was suddenly doused.
His nerves, muscles, and mind danced in gratitude.
His heart crashed in despair. His soul curled up in its own shadows.
“Rayna,” he whispered to her from that abyss. It was all he could do. Though the pain was gone, his body rebelled against movement. His mind struggled to remember his own name. Did it even matter now?
It was so fucking cold. Snow fell on his face. Ice, too. No…the ice was his creation. It was formed of his tears, flowing and freezing across his face as well as the lips continuing to plead her name. He was trapped in a glacier of helplessness called his own body. In short, he really was in hell.
For two miraculous seconds, summer returned. It warmed him like an Indian sunset and smelled like cardamom sprinkled on apple tarts. He sighed as he breathed in the bliss of it.
“Zeke. I love you.”
Then summer was gone. His sigh turned into a moan. He let it fade to silence as the shadows in his spirit turned to pitch black midnight.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rayna didn’t know who was more eager for the private jet to get here and land, her or Mua. The sooner the damn thing landed, the sooner they’d be on it and airborne—and the sooner Zeke would be safe.
She was certain her fervent glances into the sky outnumbered the man’s by now.
Man?
She dropped her head and kicked at the floor of the Spanaway Airport terminal. How had she remotely thought of that word to qualify the creature standing before the plate glass window
? She wasn’t sure monster filled the bill anymore. Not when she thought about everything that had happened this morning. Not when she remembered everything he’d done to Zeke.
Not when she lifted a hand to the tidy nick at the base of her own neck now.
Her insertion site was small and sterile. No gashes or screwdrivers like they’d used on Zeke. One of Mua’s goons had done it in the car on the way here. He’d even used surgical gloves and alcohol.
Just like the woman King had used to put in the piercing between her legs.
She shuddered and sucked in a breath.
Real monsters didn’t hack out your humanity in bites. They drilled it out, bit by excruciating bit, with needles.
No, Rayna. This piercing isn’t your shame. It’s your true medal of honor. Don’t forget…
She bit back a sob. She clung to his words, to his voice in her heart, but hated them at the same time. She looked to the sky again, pulled by its numbing gray pallor, longing to drag it over her heart like a giant, dark blanket. Don’t forget? How the hell did she do anything except remember? How the hell did she take another step, pull in another breath, have another thought without being reminded of what she was…a woman who held the life of the man she loved in every move she made until that plane landed, and she made Mua destroy his magic Rolex for good.
The snow turned into a sopping rain. The runway remained bleak and empty.
What the hell was taking so long? Seattle had a hundred private jet charter outfits. It took no more than three computer mouse clicks to order one up.
Exhaustion slammed her. She looked up and headed for the ladies room. A couple of Mua’s men hustled to her side. They were brand-new minions since Mua had allowed Franz to go ahead and arrest the team who’d accompanied him to the wedding.
“Seriously?” she asked them. “I’m going to pee and wash my face, boys. If you want the play-by-play, ask Mua if you can borrow his tracking toy.”
