by Brenda Joyce
“Can ye be quiet?” His tone was harsh.
She looked at him closely. “I’m starting to get you, Maclean. Why does that bother you?”
“Really?” He dropped his hands. “Think what ye want. That’s the best I can do.”
She sat up. They were almost eye to eye because Maclean still knelt. “Thanks for the healing.”
He shrugged. “Ye should go to an E.R. and get that shoulder set.”
“You really do care. I’m touched.” Their gazes met. When he didn’t speak, Sam slid her fingers into the neckline of his shirt and tightened her grasp. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back for me.”
“I had to think about it.”
Sam didn’t know whether to believe him or not.
He grasped her shoulders. “I’m everything ye think I am…an arrogant, selfish bastard…a complete user. But I want ye. Come back with me to my place. I want to use ye tonight.”
He was hiding behind the bad-boy facade again. “I’ll think about that.”
“Really?” And Ian snapped her shoulder back into the joint.
Sam gasped, reeling from the pain, but it was already gone. “Thanks for the warning,” she said.
He had stood up and he just stared down at her. She slowly stood up, too. Everything seemed to be in working order. She took a moment to breathe deeply. Then she looked at him. It was time to get down to business. “The monk knows you, Ian.”
He shrugged, but his long lashes had drifted down, hiding his eyes. “What did he want?”
Was there a tremor in his tone? “He didn’t really say. He said you know what he wants.”
Ian turned abruptly and strode away from her.
His shoulders were absolutely rigid. She followed, recalling the horrible innuendoes in the monk’s taunting words. “He’s probably in cahoots with Hemmer, although I can’t imagine how that partnership would work. The monk threatened me, by the way.” Ian was at the vault’s door. He paused to stare at her. “And Hemmer threatened you. I just remembered—the monk gave me a message for you.” Sam hesitated. She didn’t know what the monk’s message meant, but she sensed it would distress Ian greatly.
Ian glanced sharply at her. “What did he say?”
“He said something about a maze—one he has just for you.”
Ian paled.
He was afraid. “We’re being double teamed. The monk has too much power and Hemmer’s no small fry. It’s time to come clean. Who is he?” Sam demanded. “What does that mean? Why 1527?”
He breathed hard. When he shoved his hands into the pockets of the blazer he wore, Sam saw that they were trembling. “I belong in 1527,” he said grimly. “You heard Nick mention that I’m out of my time.”
“Yeah,” Sam said slowly, wanting the truth, “I heard.”
“I was released in 1502—twenty-five years ago.”
“So Nick was right,” Sam said slowly. “You’re not modern, not at all. Never mind the jeans, the art, the cars, the fine homes. You should be living in medieval times.”
“Like hell,” he snarled at her.
His days in the modern world were numbered. No one could defy the gods and Fate. He was not supposed to be living in New York City. She was dismayed. She had no right to that feeling, either.
When this was over, they’d go their separate ways. More than ideals and morals would separate them—centuries would separate them.
“Let’s go,” Ian said suddenly, striding out of the vault.
Sam rushed after him, aware that he did not want to be locked up again. Neither did she, but there was more to discuss. “You know who the monk is, don’t you?”
He never paused. “Yeah, I do.”
“Why won’t you tell me what we’re up against? Why do you fear him?”
“Fine,” he erupted, facing her. “He was my captor those last ten years! Are ye happy now?”
Sam studied him. “How dangerous is he?”
He started forward. “He’s evil—a deamhan.”
“If he was your captor for a decade, you must know him well.”
He didn’t answer. Revulsion was etched onto his face.
She hurried to keep up. “Maclean, I’m sorry for what you went through,” she began.
“Like hell!” he turned and shouted at her. “Ye know nothing of my past! You know nothing of me!”
She wanted to touch him but she kept her hands to herself. “I know evil. I’ve fought evil for most of my life, in its every form and shape. And I’ll fight this evil with you, Ian.”
“Why? Because ye pity me?”
She shook her head. “Because I never run and I like payback. He did just challenge me.”
But he saw through her. “Fearless Sam, as brave as always.” He was mocking.
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
He shook his head, the tension still etched in every tight line of his face and body. “No. I admire yer courage. I always have.”
She was shocked. “Did you just say something nice to me?”
For one moment, his gaze held hers. There was so much reluctance in his eyes. Then he shrugged. “It’s the truth. But ye have the death wish now. Sometimes it’s better to be a coward and run. You should run from the monk.”
“Is that what you plan on doing?”
He started forward. “I didn’t say that.”
“Good, then it’s a plan. We take on the sonuvabitch together.”
He laughed at her, slowing. “That might be yer plan, Sam, but it’s not mine. My only plan is to enjoy your body tonight and proceed with my auction on Friday.”
“You know what? I’m not buying the coldhearted sex-is-everything act. You’re shaken up, and frankly, so am I. So we need to start working together.”
His gaze was sharp. “Are ye being serious? Yer never shaken.”
“You weren’t there in that vault a moment ago. He took my power and used it against me. I almost lost my head, courtesy of my own weapons. He has more power than I’ve ever seen, except of course for your buddies, the Masters. But you know what? Even the mighty fall.”
Sam couldn’t decipher the look he gave her. What was he thinking? How upset was he? “Have you ever come face-to-face with one of your captors before?” She thought of what he’d done to John.
His mouth curled. “No.”
She decided not to make a quip about there being a first time for everything. “I owe you, Maclean. No doubt about it.”
“Ye owe me nothing.” He leaned close and said tersely, “I have the page of illusion. I am still planning to sell it and walk away with the millions. To hell with the monk and Hemmer. I am not a Slayer.” He strode past the media room.
Sam breathed hard, watching him go. He was really good at cover-ups, she decided, and this was another one. He was on edge, no doubt about it, and she didn’t blame him. She didn’t care what he said, she was not letting him go up against one of his captors alone. So when it came to the page, they were rivals, but when it came to the monk and Hemmer, they were allies. If he didn’t think so, it was tough luck. And if he intended to sell the page and walk away, that was okay, too. She’d take down the bad guys by herself.
He was almost at the elevators. She glanced at the media room. She couldn’t leave that video in Hemmer’s hands. She didn’t want him using it against Ian, not in any way.
She didn’t want Ian to know about it, either.
He suddenly halted and faced her. “I’m not leaving you here. Let’s go,” he ordered.
To hide her concern, she mocked, “But you don’t care about my welfare.”
His eyes blazed. “Let’s go, Sam.”
She somehow smiled. “I have some unfinished work to do. I’ll catch up with you in a few hours. Maybe I’ll even jump into the sack with you…lucky guy.”
His gaze narrowed.
She blocked her thoughts, even though she was beginning to think he wasn’t all that good at mind reading. “I work at night, remember?”
His
gaze veered behind her, at the media room. “What are ye up to?”
She wet her lips. “Hemmer has a collection of sex tapes. He’s got the one you saw and he might have others, featuring yours truly.”
Ian’s eyes widened. She felt his interest change.
“Like hell,” she said softly. “Take a hike. This is my business, and I’ll catch up with you later. Promise.”
Instead of going out the door, he approached. “You’re lying. I can feel it. While ye might be mad that Hemmer has seen ye with yer other lovers, ye wouldn’t stay here, in jeopardy, to get the tapes. What’s in the room?”
A terribly graphic image of the swinging cage assailed her before she could stop the recollection. It was followed by that male hand with the gold signet ring, reaching for the padlocked door.
Clearly, the image was so powerful that Ian saw it, too. He blanched another time. Briefly, he was speechless. He choked, “Ye saw a boy in a cage?”
“No, I didn’t see any cage! What are you talking about?”
He seized her. “What did ye see?”
“It was Hemmer,” she cried. “I’m sorry! It was just an old, grainy video, maybe from the sixties or seventies. It was just a cage, swinging in the night. Ian, it’s okay!”
He was almost green as he released her.
Sam seized him. “Are you going to faint?”
He looked at her with horror. “He has a video…of me in the cage.”
Sam kept a tight grip on him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen someone as shocked. “Ian, it was really out of focus and it was only a cage and—”
He shook her off and cut her off. “What did ye see?” he roared.
She cringed inwardly. “Just a boy!”
“Ye saw me!”
She wanted to cry. She thought her eyes felt moist. She slowly nodded. “No one would ever be able to tell that it was you,” she tried.
“You could tell!”
Sam took his hand. He flung her off. “C’mon! You have a really rotten past. I know it—you know it. Damn it, no one else should know it—I agree with you. But this is real life. Life isn’t fair. Others know it, too. Hemmer showed me the one clip. I’m sorry.”
Ian stormed past her, into the media room. “How many tapes of me does he have?”
She followed. “I have no idea. Did you know they were taping…you?”
He paused when he was inches from the big screen. He was trembling wildly now. “I can’t do this,” he suddenly said, not turning.
She did not like the sound of that.
He did not look at her. “I’m going to sell the page today.”
Her stomach churned with dread. She sensed where he was going. “Ian.”
“No. I don’t have yer courage. I never have.”
She wet her lips. “That’s so unfair. What you’ve been through—”
He cut her off. “Let it be, Sam. I’m taking the money and leaving.”
She breathed hard. He was running away. Even though she’d never run from a fight in her life, she understood with her heart and her soul why his instinct was to run. Now was not the time to argue or point out the many instances of bravery she’d witnessed. She kept silent.
He ejected the DVD and faced her, his eyes blazing with hatred and fear now. “So this is goodbye.” His mouth curled. “Unless ye want to come home with me because ye owe me a thank you. In which case, I expect sex. Not talking, not questions an’ not pity. Just fucking.”
It was hard to be flip now. “Wow, you have a way with words. I can’t wait to go home with you.”
He pushed past her.
It was probably one of the worst instincts she’d ever had, but she did not want him to go back to that Park Avenue mansion alone, especially not with that video in his hand. Sam fought herself. She wasn’t Tabby. She didn’t know how to nurture or comfort. She knew how to fight; she knew how to get a guy laid. But maybe it was time to learn how to comfort. Because Ian Maclean was in pain.
Sam followed him out.
AS THEY ENTERED Maclean’s Park Avenue home, the silence instantly disturbed Sam. Even though he lived alone with the butler, the house should have felt different. But it felt dark and empty, vacant—like a gaping hole in the universe.
Ian had been brooding darkly the entire drive uptown. He’d driven his Escalade recklessly, as if he didn’t care if they crashed into another vehicle. Maybe the silence and his distress were just getting to her.
He’d used the key code to get in. The huge door closed behind them. Sam felt her gut churn with unease. “It’s too quiet. Something’s wrong,” she said. “The vibe here has changed.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he snapped. He gave her a cool look. “Ye know where my bedroom is. Why don’t ye go up and get comfortable?”
If she didn’t know how upset he was about the video, she’d have called him on that unbelievable remark. “You need a drink. So do I. And Maclean? You might want to be nice for about a second, because I didn’t come back here to do you. The jury’s still out.”
He strode down the hall, leaving her standing alone by the front door.
He was in a helluva mood, she thought. She probably didn’t have to worry about whether to go to bed with him or not. That video had dampened his desire, and his reaction to it had certainly dampened hers.
She did not want to know what else was on that tape.
There were three floors in the town house. Maclean was going up the stairs, forgoing the elevator. Now that she knew he was claustrophobic, she was not surprised. She slowly followed. “Maybe we can ask Gerard to bring us something to eat,” she said on the stairs.
He vanished at the second landing.
Sam glanced around, wondering where the butler was. Unease was slithering down her spine now. She saw an intercom by the top of the stairs on the landing, and she quickly pressed the starred button. “Gerard?”
When there was no answer, she tried the rest of the buttons, indicating other rooms, but Gerard did not answer. Her unease escalated. Maybe Ian had given him the night off.
She went down the dark, barely lit hall and found Maclean in a large theatre, the DVD in his hand.
She paused on the threshold of the burgundy room. “You don’t need to watch that.”
He faced her. “Wait for me upstairs.”
“We’re not doing the deed. We’re going to have a drink, eat something, and think about how to confront Hemmer and the monk,” she said firmly. Then she heard herself. She sounded like her sister!
“I invited ye here fer sex. If ye don’t want to go upstairs, then get out.” He marched to the entertainment center and jammed his hand on the DVD player. The tray opened.
“Why are you doing this?” Sam cried.
“Fuck off,” he snarled. “Ye saw it, didn’t ye?” He jammed the DVD into the tray.
He was out of control. Did he want to inflict more pain on himself? She was determined to stop him.
The screen brightened.
Sam cursed. She strode forward and wrenched the remote from his hand. His eyes widened in shock.
“What will revisiting your past accomplish? Two very evil and powerful beings are out there, and we’ve both been threatened. Sitting here and wallowing in what they did to you won’t help us fight back. We need to prepare, and we need to call in backup.”
He seized her wrist, so brutally Sam was shocked. For one moment, she thought he’d snap her bones.
But he didn’t. “Get out,” he said fiercely. “Get out now. There is no ‘we,’ Sam. There is no ‘us.’ So just get out and leave me alone.”
Sam breathed hard, almost blinded by the pain of his grasp—or was it the pain she suddenly saw in his eyes? She nodded. He released her. She didn’t hesitate. She handed him the remote.
“You’re right. There is no ‘us.’ I’ve been feeling sorry for you, and I’ve lost sight of the fact that you’re a selfish jerk. Because even though you came back to Hemmer’s to help me out today, none of this would
be happening if you weren’t one greedy bastard. If you gave Nick the page, it would be over. The demon monk and Hemmer would have to attack CDA and the entire United States government to get it, and we’d be out of the picture.”
He pressed Play.
“So go ahead, self-flagellate.”
He ignored her.
She almost stayed to watch him, as he watched himself being tortured in the past. But what would that accomplish? She wasn’t Tabby. And he didn’t want comfort anyway. He seemed to want to suffer. He was a wounded tiger in a cage, and right now, he was dangerous. Her wrist still hurt from the way he’d manhandled her. She didn’t know whether he was going to implode or explode, but a cataclysm felt imminent.
She hurried from the room as the clawing sounds began. In the hallway she halted, so tense she was ill. She hated what he was doing to himself now.
Hemmer might be human, but he was evil, and he had to go. That probably wouldn’t be a problem. The monk, on the other hand, was worrisome.
She heard the frightened breathing now. Sam turned. It crossed her mind that she might not be able to comfort him, but she could distract him…maybe. But before she could go back in and begin a seduction, she heard him roar. The sound was one of rage and anguish. Then she heard the media center come crashing down.
Sam ran back to the room. Ian stood amidst the ruins of the home theatre, which he’d clearly destroyed with his powers. He held his head with both hands, shoulders heaving. She bit her lip and backed out.
He was crying.
Damn it, where was Gerard?
Sam rushed downstairs, heading into the back of the house, where the kitchens would be. Maclean would not want her to see him shedding tears, especially not a second time. The lights were on, illuminating a very contemporary kitchen, mostly black and stainless steel.
The moment she saw the refrigerator door wide open, with no one in sight, she knew something was terribly wrong.
She ran past the granite center island.
Gerard lay motionless on the floor, face up, eyes closed, his face waxen, covered in blood. She’d seen enough victims of violence to know that he’d been stabbed many times and that the blood was his own.
