Don't Say a Word

by Rita Herron

  Fury more powerful than he’d ever felt ripped through Damon. He wanted to destroy Cal, tear him apart piece by piece.

  But he had to think like a soldier. A killer. Calm. Methodical. Formulate a plan.

  Stall. Keep him talking. Maybe Max was alive, would stir and get to a phone. Maybe Jean-Paul would figure out something.

  “You sick bastard,” Damon growled. “It takes a coward to torture a woman.”

  “I’m not a coward. You are, you tried to leave the team.”

  “Only a coward ties up a woman and inflicts pain on her. A strong man battles someone his own size, his equal.”

  “You asshole!” Anger flared in Cal’s eyes, and he dove toward Damon. Just what Damon wanted. Let him take his rage out on him, and maybe he could wrestle the knife from him.

  Cal cut Damon’s forearm in a quick slice, then pounded the side of his head with his fist. Damon jerked both knees up and rammed them into Cal’s stomach, sending him across the floor. Stunned, Cal laughed, sat back and simply stared at him.

  “I forgot what a good fighter you are. Just like you forgot the brotherhood of the team and our creed.”

  “The brotherhood said we could trust each other, but you’re the one who broke that trust. You’re the one who destroyed our friendship.”

  “No, you did, when you turned away from the team. When you joined your other brothers in the law-enforcement game.”

  “You killed Pace, didn’t you?” Damon asked. “Why?”

  “Because I took Kendra to him so he could use her face in the transplant experiment. I thought it would be kind of funny…Only he didn’t tell me that the woman he planned to help was the one I thought died in that fire. Diego’s woman. If she remembered us, it would have been bad and you know it. I had to silence her and him.”

  “What about Max?” Damon asked. “Why did you shoot him?”

  “He betrayed me,” Cal snapped. “He saved the woman from the fire and took her to Pace.”

  “No, that was Lex,” Jacqueline cut in.

  “Lex?” Cal jerked his head toward her. “That’s impossible. Lex is dead.”

  “He died the week after he left me at the hospital. He’s here now,” Jacqueline said as a wind suddenly stirred through the shanty. The walls rattled with its force, and Cal’s eyes went wide.

  “He said he carried me to Dr. Pace. Said you injected him with the chemical that killed him.”

  Damon’s stunned gaze shot to Cal, and he saw the truth reflected in his vicious eyes. Remembering the photos Cal had sent his parents, the ones from the first Mutilator, he plunged on. “You hate my family. You framed Antwaun for murder, Cal. Why? Why not just come after me?”

  Cal spat on the floor. “Because Antwaun is my brother, not yours!” Cal shouted. “But your family took him in, raised him as a Dubois, even though Antwaun was Frederick Fenton’s son just like me.” Cal stood, sweating as he stalked across the room. Jacqueline stared in stunned silence, fear darkening her pale green eyes, while Damon tried to follow Cal’s logic.

  “Your father is the first Mutilator? How long have you known?”

  “Since I was a kid,” Cal bellowed. “I was put in foster care. No one wanted me because I was the son of a serial killer. But your family took Antwaun when he was born. Precious Antwaun had it lucky while I rotted away in the system. Thrown from one abusive home to another. Beaten and shunned by normal kids. That’s what made me tough. Helped me join the military, so I could kill.”

  Damon managed to grab a splintered piece of wood behind him and began to saw away at the ropes binding him. “You found out about Antwaun?”

  He gave a clipped, wild-eyed nod. “I thought you were the brother first,” he said, his voice raspy as his lungs churned for air. “That’s why I joined the E-team. To get close to you.”

  God, Cal had planned this twisted revenge for years.

  “I finally thought I had a family. We were brothers, but you deserted us,” Cal continued, a wild man’s rage showing in his jerky movements. “You chose your birth brothers, even my birth brother, the bastard kid of Frederick Fenton, over me.” He waved the knife in Damon’s face. “But Antwaun is no better than me. He’s a killer’s son, and now the whole world will know the truth.”

  Damon flinched mentally. That truth might destroy Antwaun, and his relationship with the family. And Cal…If Damon didn’t stop him now, he might kill Antwaun and his parents after he was through with him and Jacqueline.

  “Antwaun is nothing like you or Fenton,” Damon said, goading him again as he continued working at the knots binding his hands. “He doesn’t prey on innocent people. He fights for good, something you’ve forgotten.”

  At this Cal spun and stalked toward Jacqueline again, the knife blade gleaming in the darkness. He plunged it into her shoulder, and she cried out in pain. Damon’s blood boiled with rage.

  He jerked the knots free from his wrists, untied his feet while Cal stared at her blood, and threw himself upright and toward Cal, knocking him to the floor. The knife skittered from his hands and spun across the wood. Blood spurted from Jacqueline’s shoulder, but she tried to inch her chair toward the weapon as he wrestled with Cal. The men fought, trading blow for blow, and Damon rolled Cal over, pounding his face with his fists. Jacqueline kicked the knife his way. He grabbed it and brought it down over Cal’s face.

  “Give it up, Cal!” Damon said between gritted teeth.

  “Never!” Cal bucked his body up, kicking Damon off with his feet. He launched into karate moves then, and Damon jabbed at him with the knife, stabbing his gut once, hard enough that Cal dropped to his knees. A second later, he glared at Damon with hatred in his eyes and lunged at him. The pair rolled toward the door, where Cal managed to grab the knife and stab Damon in the thigh. As Damon gritted his teeth, Cal jumped up, grabbed Jacqueline by the hair and pressed the knife to her throat.

  “Move one step, and I’ll kill her.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “HE’LL DO IT ANYWAY, Damon,” Jacqueline whispered. “Get him!”

  But Damon froze, pressing his hand against his thigh to stop the bleeding. “Cal, don’t do this.”

  Cal was sweating, his body shaking as he clenched her hair tighter. Jacqueline felt the ropes around her arms being tugged on, loosening. At first, she thought Cal was untying her, but one of his hands was wound in her hair, the other held the knife to her neck.

  Lex…She felt his presence. He was here, helping her now. Going to save her and Damon.

  The rope slipped free, but, wanting to choose her timing, she held the coils around herself as if she were still bound.

  “Maybe we should finish this outside,” Cal said in a low growl. “Let the gators taste her blood, then they can finish her.”

  Damon shook his head no, then she jerked her arms and jabbed upward, hitting Cal with her elbow. The blow knocked him backward and off balance long enough for her to run for the door. Damon dove toward Cal. If she could make it outside maybe she could get to Cal’s car. Find a phone. Call for help.

  She was weak from blood loss though, and dizziness swept over her. She wavered and grabbed the wall, felt the blood oozing from her shoulder. But she forced herself on, held the wall until she staggered outside. The musky scent of the bayou assaulted her, the piercing eyes of the gators meeting her in the darkness. Behind her, she heard the men fighting, grunting as they pounded each other. She ran across the wooden bridge over the swampy water to the woods, heaving for a breath as she desperately searched for Cal’s car.

  Suddenly his strong hands caught her, jerked her hair again, gripped her wounded shoulder and dragged her to the ground. She screamed as pain ripped through her arm and chest, flailing to strike out at him as he dragged her facedown across the rough ground toward the water. She kicked and cried out, using her uninjured arm to jab at his eyes when he rolled her over. He slapped her and pressed the knife to her throat, his eyes gleaming as vicious as a gator’s. One flick down her chest, and he ri
pped her bra away then began to trace the knife around her nipple. Her body quivered with fear and revulsion.

  Desperation ballooned in her chest, and she prayed Damon was still alive.

  “You’re an animal,” she panted at Cal. “Go ahead, just kill me.” She wanted it over with, did not want to have to endure the slow torture her cousin had.

  His pointed smile chilled her heart, then a roar erupted behind him. Damon.

  He pounced on Cal’s back, dragging him off her. Cal swung the knife, slicing at air, and she pulled herself up, scrambling in the dirt for anything she could use as a weapon. She found a thick branch, raised it and stood on shaky legs, narrowing her eyes to try and see the men. They rolled into the bushes, then onto a wooden-slat bridge. The water rocked against the wood, sloshing onto her feet as she neared them. Cal had Damon beneath him, the knife raised. Jacqueline swung the tree branch and knocked the knife from his hand and saw it fly into the water. Cal punched Damon in the face, then jerked him up and they both lost their balance and crashed into the water. The swamp murk was deeper than Jacqueline had thought, and she lost sight of them as they dipped below the surface, fighting in the dark night.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to stay conscious, but she feared she might pass out. She crawled back to the place where Cal had assaulted her and ran her hands over the ground in search of her bra. When she found it, she tied it around the top of her arm to stem the bleeding, then tried to crawl back to the bridge. But the woods grew even darker and a gator’s attack cry splintered the night. Just before she passed out, a man’s cry shot into the night.

  She prayed it wasn’t Damon, dying.

  * * *

  DAMON DOVE SIDEWAYS AS the gator pounced, its sharp teeth snapping as it caught Cal’s arm and bit it off. He bellowed in pain, blood filled the water, and Damon reached out to try and save him. Cal flailed madly, pummeling the water to escape, but the gator lurched again and trapped his leg in its mouth with a sickening crunch of bone. Cal’s scream of pain and death echoed through the bayou, and Damon knew it was too late for his former comrade.

  He had to find Jacqueline, make sure she was okay. She’d been stabbed and was bleeding….

  His own injuries slowed him down, but he slogged through the murk and dragged himself to the wooden structure and crawled on top of it. Behind him, the water gurgled red with blood as the gator finished his feast. Damon searched the bridge and dark foliage before spotting Jacqueline sprawled at the edge of the water. Knowing that more gators might come, he forced himself forward. Every second seemed like an eternity. A snake hissed nearby and another gator surfaced, floating near her. He hurried, half staggering, then dropped beside her and felt for a pulse. Low but steady.

  “Don’t die, please don’t die,” he whispered as he moved his hands beneath her and picked her up. “Please, Jacqueline, stay with me. I’m going to get help.” He kissed her cheek, then plunged through the swamp to Cal’s car. It seemed like miles, but finally he reached it, opened the door and laid her inside on the backseat. Blood, sweat, dirt and filth soaked them both.

  He stroked her face gently, then circled to the front seat and searched the interior. Dammit, Cal had to have a phone in here. He ran his hands over the leather and patted the floor, then checked the console and finally found it. His heart pounding, he dialed Jean-Paul’s number.

  “Damon, where are you?”

  “Need help,” Damon said gruffly. “Send an ambulance to the shanty where Kendra Yates was killed.” He requested another unit to be sent to Max’s address.

  Hanging up, he removed his shirt and crawled in the back to put it on her, cradling her in his arms. She looked so pale and had lost so much blood that he bowed his head and begged God to let her live.

  As he faded into unconsciousness himself, he said another prayer that one day she could forgive him.

  * * *

  TIME BLURRED AND HOURS dragged by as Jacqueline struggled in and out of consciousness. Through the foggy haze of medication, she noticed the scents of the hospital, heard the chirp of machinery, realized that she’d been stitched up and bandaged, and was hooked to an IV.

  Where was Damon? Was he alive?

  “Don’t die, please don’t die.” The words echoed in her head, the gruff voice belonging to Damon. She winced at the pain in her shoulder and thigh as she tried to turn over, then faintly remembered feeling him pick her up and carry her to the car. Then he’d called for help and held her while they’d waited.

  Again in the emergency room, he’d been there, begging her to fight for her life, refusing the nurses’ help and insisting they tend to her first. She must have asked about Cal, because she somehow knew that Cal was dead, felt assured that she was safe now.

  But her heart was still broken.

  Tears leaked from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She wiped at them with a bandaged hand. Damon had lied to her, had kept things from her. Had slept with her knowing that he was the one responsible for putting her in the hospital, for the burns on her body and the ruin of her face.

  Exhausted, she closed her eyes and fell back into sleep, the pull of death beckoning her. Images of Kendra floated in front of her, then some of Lex as she’d seen him at the rehab facility. He was here now, she could feel him. And so was Kendra, just as she’d felt them in the shanty.

  Time wound backward as a dream stole her thoughts. Or maybe it was memories assaulting her. Suddenly she felt herself floating above her body, watching as she lay in the bed tormented and unconscious. Flashes of the past soared around her.

  She’d been standing at her father’s grave, and Kendra had approached her. First Kendra had explained that she’d gotten involved with a man named Antwaun Dubois, that she was in love with him, but that she thought he worked for Swafford, a criminal she was investigating. Then she’d investigated Antwaun, and discovered he was an undercover cop. She’d first thought he might be on the take, but her research had led to another source—a man higher up with much more authority. And that investigation had led her to Diego Bolton.

  Kendra had followed him and seen him meeting Jacqueline. She’d realized then that the man might be using her.

  Kendra had warned her that Diego was not what he’d appeared to be, that he was a paid killer. That she suspected he had used her to get close to her father, that he’d killed him, and that Jacqueline might be next.

  Denial had swept through Jacqueline. Kendra had to be wrong. She couldn’t have been that big of a fool, couldn’t have helped set a trap for her father.

  But Kendra had shown her files, his modified picture on the FBI’s most wanted list. Jacqueline had been in shock, hadn’t wanted to believe that she could have slept with a monster.

  Then Kendra had told her she was pregnant, that she might have to disappear for a while to keep the baby safe. She’d given Jacqueline a baby rattle and told her that if anything happened to her, to make sure Antwaun got it. She wanted him to know that she was going to disappear to protect their child.

  Knowing she had to confront Diego, Jacqueline had driven to his place. Then she’d rushed into Diego’s and heard him on the phone. He’d been planning a hit. When he’d seen her, he’d slapped her in the face. She’d cried out, and tried to run, but he’d caught her, knocked her down, and told her she’d never escape him. Then he’d hit her again, that time so hard she’d passed out.

  The explosion had roused her, and she’d woken and seen him fall into the flames, screaming like a madman. The fire had been crawling toward her then, smoke billowing around her, wood crackling and the ceiling and walls crumbling.

  “Don’t die, please don’t die…”

  She’d heard the whispered plea but hadn’t been able to see the person calling to her.

  She jerked awake, panting and sweating, the truth hitting her with blinding clarity. It wasn’t Damon’s fault she had nearly died. It was Diego’s.

  Damon hadn’t lied to her. He hadn’t pretended to love her just to carry ou
t some evil plot. He really had tried to save her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DAMON WHISPERED, “Au revoir, ma douce amie,” goodbye, my sweet love, to Jacqueline, pressed a kiss on her cheek, then left the hospital at noon the next day, tension knotting his shoulders.

  Max was going to make it, thank God. He didn’t blame Damon for Cal’s actions, and had been concerned about Cal’s escalating mood swings since Damon had pulled out of the team. He hadn’t contacted Damon because he’d been investigating Cal himself. Max also agreed to use his gift with computers to try to retrieve the lost files from Pace’s computer.

  Damon’s thoughts turned to Jacqueline—the woman he loved.

  The woman he had to leave now.

  He’d sat by her bedside until she’d started to stir, then he was afraid he’d upset her more, so he’d left, hoping she could find peace now that she had some answers and that Cal was dead.

  After getting stitched up himself the night before, he’d given his statement to Jean-Paul. His parents had rushed into the hospital, hysterical, and he’d assured them that he was alive, then he’d explained what Cal had done.

  They were more worried about Antwaun and his reaction to the fact that he was a serial killer’s son—and that his father had killed his birth mother—than they were over any fallout from Antwaun’s arrest or their business burning to the ground.

  Fearing the press might gain access to the truth and print it, they planned to tell Antwaun the story about his birth parents in person. Hopefully Antwaun would realize how fortunate he was to have the Duboises—blood didn’t matter.

  They were family. They always would be, no matter what.

  Now, Damon had to do what was right. He drove toward the town square where the Memorial Day ceremony was to be held. Jean-Paul was meeting with the lawyers to get Antwaun released, and he and the rest of the family were supposed to meet Damon at the courthouse.