Twisted Truths

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Jesus Christ. Denver barely held on to his temper. He was stuck in a fucking Stephen King novel all of a sudden. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Nope.” The guy scratched his chin. “Sheriff Thistle is on vacation in Hawaii. Won the Elk’s raffle this year, you know.”

  Denver blinked and tried to clear his head. There was so much to do. Where were his brothers? Could he get to a phone? The idea that Noni and Talia had been taken churned his stomach. No time for emotion. He had to think. “Listen, Deputy, ah, listen, pal.”

  “Barney. You can call me Barney.”

  “Funny.” Denver shook his head and tried to move his arms. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

  “Why is that funny?” The cop tilted his head to the side.

  Denver paused and studied him. Was he for real? “You don’t know?”

  Barney shook his head. “Should I?”

  Jesus. “I guess not. Listen. You can’t keep me here.” He had to work this guy, and now, to get free.

  Thick eyebrows rose. “I kinda think we can. You were in a hotel room that was busted open, filled with tear gas, and somebody shot you full of a tranq. There’s obviously a missing baby, and based on the pretty panties we found on the floor, her mama is missing, too.”

  Noni. Denver yanked against the cuff. They had Noni and Talia. Fucking Madison and Cobb. Those soldiers were too well trained to work for anybody else. “Maybe I got in a fight with my woman, and she plugged me full of darts. That makes her the criminal and not me. I’m the victim.” He was babbling now, but he had to get free. He had to find them. Were they okay? They had to be terrified. Fury swept him, hazing his vision. “Just uncuff me.”

  “Nope. I’m thinkin’ that’s not the way to go.” The cop shook the bag of nuts and then reached inside again.

  The hospital was quiet now that the wailing had stopped. A quick glance toward the window confirmed it was still dark, so maybe around five in the morning? The hospital would be short staffed, and apparently this was the only guy guarding him. If Denver was going to make a move, it had to be soon. “Where am I, anyway?”

  “Hospital.” Barney leaned over, his brow furrowing. “You get hit on the head? The doc said he couldn’t find anything but the darts in your chest. Speaking of which, you’re lucky a trucker saw you outside in the snow. You should be dead from frostbite and exposure.”

  He wasn’t sure he could die from that. Well, probably, but it would most likely take longer for him than for most people. “So the trucker called you?”

  “No. The trucker called 911.” The cop shook his head. “They called an ambulance and us. When I saw your face, I remembered the picture that was sent across the wires from North Carolina.” His chest puffed out. “I’ve never caught anybody like you. You’re an international fugitive.”

  Denver blinked. “North Carolina is in this nation.” He almost felt bad planning to hurt this guy.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Enough chitchat. “All right, Barney. What’s your plan?” The feeling was rapidly returning to Denver’s legs like sharp needles poking out from his veins. He shifted them restlessly, trying to move the process along.

  The cop just looked at him.

  Damn it. Another five minutes, and Denver would have to make his move. If he could kick the covers off, he could swing and catch the deputy in the face. Then it’d just be a matter of taking him down to the ground and getting the keys. “This is a mistake.” It’d be so much easier to just reason with the guy.

  “I don’t think so,” the cop said. “We have your picture on the bulletin board in the office. You’re wanted in North Carolina.”

  “I’m not wanted. The sheriff is just trying to work a case. There’s no warrant,” Denver said. There probably wasn’t a warrant, right? Maybe Cobb hadn’t issued one and had just sent person-of-interest photos around. The video hadn’t specified, which was just like Cobb. It gave him plenty of wiggle room. Bastard. Heat coated Denver’s throat, and his hand fisted against the cuff. He was losing it.

  Barney the deputy sighed. “All I know is that I did my job. A good one. Haven’t even called the sheriff in Hawaii. The guy needed a break.”

  Denver forced calmness through his muscles when all he wanted to do was yell. Terror poured through him, making the world finally come into sharp focus. Noni and Talia needed him. They were vulnerable and at the mercy of psychopaths. The reality of that made it hard, nearly impossible, to keep from losing his mind. But he had to stay calm. Somehow. “Come on, man. Let me out of these cuffs.”

  “Not a chance. I already called this in.”

  Denver needed Malloy and now. But fuck. He’d had Malloy kidnapped to Montana. That had seriously backfired. There was only one chance. He didn’t know the guy, and he probably couldn’t trust him. “I need to call Special Agent Fred Reese from the FBI.”

  “I hardly think that is necessary,” came a low voice from the doorway.

  Denver’s bones chilled. He looked up and the biggest monster from his childhood stood there, blond hair cut short, blue eyes gleaming. The world narrowed to right here and right now. “Well, now, Sheriff Cobb. What a surprise,” Denver said quietly.

  * * *

  Now that the moment had finally arrived, Elton Cobb wanted to savor it. Truth be told, he’d figured he would be full of adrenaline and already punching. But this was better. Like when he’d torn wings off butterflies as a kid. Slow and satisfactory.

  The hick cop shoved to his feet, taking his time with it. When he reached his full height, Cobb had to look up. Several inches.

  “Sheriff Cobb.” The cop held out a hand. “Deputy Barney Acres.”

  Barney? Cobb stared to make sure he wasn’t being made fun of. “Like Barney Fife?”

  “Who?” the cop asked, frowning.

  Cobb studied him. Nope. The kid’s eyes were clear and earnest. “Forget it.” He took the offered hand and shook. “You’ve done a hell of a job here, Acres. This is one dangerous fugitive.”

  Denver snorted from the bed.

  Cobb’s shoulders straightened. “Would you mind if I interviewed him before we get the paperwork going?”

  Acres shook his head. “No problem. I’ll head down and get some coffee.” He glanced toward Denver. “You stay put.” Chortling at his own joke, he left the room in a slow lope.

  Cobb made a production about shutting the door and then turning the chair around to straddle it. He’d probably have to kill that young cop, but he couldn’t wait to get started on Denver first. He’d figure out a way to frame Denver for the cop’s death, and then he’d be in the clear. But first things first. He was going to enjoy these moments. He’d earned them. “How’s the head?” He couldn’t help his smile.

  Denver just looked at him, no expression on his face.

  Cobb had forgotten the little shit could do that. Even as a youngster, the asshole could look right through him, even while being beaten with a police baton. The kid had definitely grown into his huge feet, and any sense of looking lost or innocent was absolutely gone. A killer looked back at Cobb, and he had to concentrate to keep from moving the chair back a foot.

  Denver didn’t break eye contact, though the promise of death lingered in those eyes as if it just lived there daily.

  Cobb swallowed. “You knew we’d end up here.”

  The degenerate didn’t even twitch.

  “I have your woman.” Those words would do it.

  Nothing. No movement, no color in the face, no eyes widening. The fucker didn’t even blink.

  “I don’t think you’re human,” Cobb snapped. How frustrating. He’d earned this moment, damn it, and the prick would give it to him. There had to be a way to reach inside Denver’s solid rock of a head and incite fear. Cobb was a man to be feared. Why wasn’t Denver showing the terror he must be feeling? Cobb gritted his teeth.

  The machine—the one tracking Denver’s vitals—beeped slow and steady. Maybe he really wasn’t human. Who the hell knew wh
at Isobel Madison had done while splicing and dicing genes and crap.

  Cobb rested his elbows on the back of the chair. “Have you wondered about your genetics? If Isobel put in animal genes or something crazy like that when making you in petri dishes?” The idea was kind of gross. Maybe he shouldn’t let her create their own kid that way. But that was the only alternative. “I mean, you look like a pussy. Maybe you have kitty cat genes.”

  Actually the man looked like one of Isobel’s killing machines. Denver had filled out in the years. Blankets covered his legs, but his bare chest was visible. Broad and wide. A lot of muscles. Definite strength and a history of killing.

  Cobb wouldn’t be scared. Not in a million years. His hands started to sweat, even while chills slid down his spine. Maybe he was coming down with something.

  He forced a smile—his mean one. “Still don’t talk much, huh?” Truth be told, that had always creeped him out. “That’s okay.” Reaching down, he pulled his favorite Smith & Wesson Survival Black camo knife from his boot. He lifted it to the light, and his dick hardened. “Isn’t this a beauty?”

  No change from the bed or the monitors.

  Cobb looked up, tilting his head to the side. Studying the man on the bed. “This knife is sharp enough to actually peel skin from a body.” His voice roughened, and he coughed to clear it. “I used it on a woman once. She was just a whore off the streets, and nobody missed her.” Then he leaned in. “Don’t tell Isobel. I don’t think she knows.” Maybe. It was possible she knew. The woman was frighteningly brilliant. His woman. “If I kill you, she’s gonna be so angry with me.” He looked forward to their fight. Angry makeup sex was one of their specialties.

  “You’re not gonna kill me, Cobb.”

  Cobb jumped and then tried to cover the movement by shifting his weight on the chair. “I knew I’d get you to speak again.” The kid’s voice had seriously deepened through the years, sounding low and rough. “I’m definitely going to kill you. And your brothers.”

  If anything, Denver suddenly looked bored. “She has you on a leash, and she wants us alive.” He rolled his eyes, which were just as blue as they’d been decades ago. “We both know that bitch is in charge.”

  Cobb’s head snapped up. Oh, he knew what Denver was trying to do. Even so. His blood started to pump faster. “She’s occupied with your lady and the baby right now.” He pushed back from the chair and stood, feeling better looking down from a higher height. “Even I got chills when I heard her plans for—what’s her name, Noni?” He lowered his voice. “No plans for the baby. She’s ordinary and expendable. Probably in a Dumpster right now somewhere.”

  Those words should’ve gotten a response. Yet again, Denver revealed nothing. What kind of fucking self-control did a man have in order to remain calm with those threats hurled at him?

  Cobb’s gut felt tight. The need, the basic urge, to plunge the knife into Denver’s chest made his hand tremble. “Apparently you don’t care.”

  No response. With just one wrist handcuffed, he was still dangerous. Oh, Cobb had trained his entire life and could take him, but it wouldn’t do to be complacent. This was too important. He was smarter and stronger than Denver and his brothers. It was a fact, and it was okay he reminded himself of it. Isobel wouldn’t love him if he wasn’t the strongest. That was for sure.

  Denver watched him. Quiet and waiting.

  “Where are Ryker and Heath?” Cobb asked. He twirled the knife, getting ready to use it. Hopefully he’d get to take his time before Denver gave him the information he wanted. Then he was going to shove that knife through the killer’s throat. All the way to the hilt. “Tell me where they are, and this will be quick.”

  “My brothers?” For the first time, Denver smiled. The look was feral.

  Cobb swallowed rapidly. The younger man was cuffed securely. One swipe of the knife, and it’d be over. No matter how strong Denver might be. “They’re not your brothers.”

  Denver’s vitals remained so steady it was a mockery. “Sure they are. Brothers are the best, right?” His eyebrows drew down. “You should know. You had one.”

  Fury grabbed Cobb around the throat. “You killed him.”

  “I surely did,” Denver said easily, his smile widening. “Nearly took his head off with one swing of the bat.”

  Cobb’s blood actually felt like icicles pumping through his veins. The jerk was lying. He hadn’t been big enough to kill with a bat at that time. “We both know it was one of your brothers.”

  “No. Then I started him on fire with lighter fluid and gasoline and a match from the Dixie Motel in town,” Denver said quietly. “You ever seen a body burn? Man, it stinks.”

  Cobb lost it. With a roar, he lunged toward the bed, his knife already slashing down.

  Chapter

  27

  Noni’s head lolled on her shoulders and she coughed. The sound woke her more. She lifted her heavy head. Were there weights on her head? She opened her eyes to darkness.

  Blinking several times, she tried to grasp reality. Slowly her vision began to focus. A yellow fluorescent light in the ceiling illuminated what appeared to be a small office. She faced a paneled wall decorated with several black-and-white photographs of early airplanes.

  Cold. Her entire body was freezing.

  She tried to move…and couldn’t. A quick glance down confirmed that zip ties secured her wrists to a leather chair. She struggled, quickly realizing that her bare ankles were tied as well. She leaned to the side to see a similar zip tie attaching her right ankle to a wooden spoke above the chair’s roller. Her legs were slightly spread, and considering she wore only Denver’s T-shirt and thin panties, a devastating vulnerability washed over her.

  “Ah. You’re awake finally.” High heels clipped, and the chair was turned around. “Hello.”

  Noni blinked up at a woman, waiting until her vision cleared. “Dr. Madison,” she murmured, recognizing the woman from the manila file she’d found in Denver’s pack. “Where the hell is my daughter?” Fury and fear nearly choked Noni, but she struggled against the bindings anyway.

  Madison took a couple of steps back. “My records show the adoption hasn’t gone through yet. You have to finish the paperwork in Alaska.”

  “Wrong.” Maybe the paperwork wasn’t finished, but Talia was her daughter, and fierce maternal protectiveness nearly choked her. “Bring my daughter to me. Now.”

  “No.” Madison studied her, head to toe. “You’re not much to look at. What is Denver thinking?” She tapped a red nail to her very red lips.

  The judgment in the woman’s tone was like a wake-up slap. What a bitch. Noni looked frantically around. The office held a heavy oak desk complete with stapler, tape, and pencils. Was that a letter opener? She could use it to stab. A leather sofa was across from her. Maps and the pictures of airplanes covered the walls. An open doorway led to a wide concrete hangar housing a quiet white jet. She was in a private hangar? How long had she been unconscious? “What did you give me?”

  “Just a simple sedative,” Madison said, taking a seat on the sofa and crossing slim legs. She wore a heavy blue sweater over a thin pencil skirt and high-heeled boots. “It should be clearing your system now, although you’ve been out for quite a while.”

  Noni pricked up her ears. “Where. Is. Talia?”

  “She’s sleeping in the plane,” Madison said easily, her gaze sharp. “Do what I tell you to do, and I won’t toss her out into the cold.”

  Fear gripped Noni’s heart like a fist made of pure evil. “I want to see her.”

  Madison arched perfectly shaped dark eyebrows. “What you want is irrelevant.”

  Noni shook her head, trying to concentrate. Everything still felt a little numb. “Why did you take us?” She tried to curl her toes and push away, but she couldn’t get purchase on the smooth floor. “I mean, why drug Denver and take us?” It didn’t make any sense.

  Madison sighed. “That’s a long story, and I doubt your IQ is high enough to grasp the intric
ate concepts. The drug was just to subdue Denver. My soldiers had orders to take him as well, but the boy lived up to his potential. Killed one and seriously injured another.” She smiled, pride in her eyes. “I finished that one off for him. Rather, I ordered it done.”

  God, the woman was nuts. “Listen, lady. Unbind me and get me to my daughter, or I swear to God, I’m going to rip out your condescending tongue and shove it up your ass.” Noni yanked against the restraints, and pain cut into her wrists. Even so, she couldn’t stop fighting, struggling as hard as she could. Finally, she subsided with a hard glare toward the bitch on the sofa.

  Madison shook her head. “Denver’s surrogate was a free-spirited artist. Brilliant, with an impressive IQ, but a dreamer nonetheless. Apparently that created a type for him.” She sighed. “I guess I should take that into account with the next generation of my creations.”

  Noni paused. “Denver’s mom was an artist?”

  “No. Just his surrogate was. We took genetic material only from the best, but babies have to cook, you know. We used women who needed money.” She flicked lint off her skirt. “His maternal donor was gifted intellectually.”

  Noni’s stomach lurched. “Is she still alive?”

  “I hardly think that’s any of your concern.” The woman looked her over as if she would be the next one to throw into a volcano. “That boy is special even among the special. You’re trash and don’t belong with him. Ever.”

  The bitch was insane. “Wh-what about his father?” Noni asked, curious without wanting to be so. Plus, the longer she kept Madison talking, the more likely Talia would wake up and start wailing. Noni needed proof that her daughter was near. “Who was the sperm donor?”

  “A soldier out of MI6, actually,” Madison said, seemingly fine about chatting. “He left the British and worked for us. For the commander, who was my partner.” She crossed and recrossed her legs. “Truth be told, I had a rather energetic weekend with him in Bora Bora that I still remember fondly.” She pushed a stray strand of dark hair away from her smooth skin. “Before you ask, we didn’t kill him. He died on a mission for us. Somewhere in Fallujah.”