Betrayed by Shadows

by Nancy Gideon

  Smart girl. She wore nothing under the sweatshirt, between those tight, tight jeans and silky skin, except his gun.

  One of them was waiting in the foyer. When he reached for Brigit, Giles stepped in front of her. The Shifter gripped his right arm and pulled him out of the way. Giles felt his knees go as huge swelling waves of black and red engulfed him. He was aware of Brigit’s arms around him and heard the steel in her voice when she snapped, “That wasn’t necessary. He’s just here for his family.”

  “Let’s reunite them, then.” The Shifter motioned toward the dining room.

  There was a bloody handprint on the woodwork his mother kept scrupulously clean. Such a small hand. The sickness roiling through Giles stilled. Unbidden, the image surfaced of his father slumped at the wheel of his crumpled pickup. If harm had been done to any of his family, what he’d done to his father’s killer would seem like mercy. His mama would be sucking up what was left of them with the wet vac instead using of a shovel.

  As they passed through the doorway, Brigit bumped back against him, clearly startled by the sight of their visitors. Giles took in the situation with a quick glance.

  There were three of them, the one behind him, one standing in the entryway to the kitchen, and one sitting bold as could be at the table, dining on his mama’s fried catfish. His mother sat stiff and still on one side of him with a fierce-eyed Corene on the other. His sister’s jaw sported an ugly swelling. There was no sign of Emmett, Boyd, or Louella. He thought of that handprint. Lou . . .

  Before he could stop her, Brigit angled in front of him, her chin tipping up, her tone frigid.

  “Martin, you came to do your own dirty work. I’m flattered.”

  The sharply dressed Shifter smiled and blotted his lips on a napkin. Fine clothes and good manners couldn’t disguise what he was. A thug. Giles recognized one of his own. Expensive fabric strained to contain his thick, brutish upper body. Politeness couldn’t conceal the primeval viciousness of his clan. That hot ugliness burned in the gaze he fixed upon her.

  “You’ve caused us considerable inconvenience, Brigit. Since the hired help can’t seem to eliminate one troublesome female, I’ve had to rearrange my schedule to handle it myself. I take it Foster won’t be collecting his bonus.”

  “Was that his name? We never had the chance to get to know each other. Happy to save you the money.”

  He laughed, an unpleasant sound. “Foster and Pyle would have seen to things quietly, albeit unpleasantly, for you, but you’re never subtle about anything, are you? You’ve always got to pull everyone else under with you, just like these innocent folks here.”

  She said nothing, but Giles could feel her trembling beneath her haughty posturing.

  Martin sighed and set down the napkin. “The time for political politeness is over. I think an example needs to be made.”

  She hid her fear by sneering, “So far the example of your effectiveness is speaking for itself. I’m sure Cale will be impressed.” She paused, then goaded, “Or does he even know?”

  All humor fell from his narrow features. “You’ll come with us to Vegas. We indulge in more than just fighting the dogs there. You should see what happens when a tender morsel like you gets tossed in the middle of that pack of animals. You won’t have to imagine for long.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  A scornful smirk. “Of course I would. You have no champion.”

  “My brother—”

  “Will die if he thinks to interfere. Cale might just thank me for that. He’s been looking for a long time for a reason to settle with him.” He placed his palms on the table, getting ready to rise.

  Brigit spoke up quickly. “I’ll go with you without any trouble if you let these people go. There’s no need for more collateral damage. They won’t do anything to stop you. I’m nothing to them.”

  “You’re nothing to anyone, you tiresome bitch. I’m weary of the drama. Though the catfish was tasty, there’s no good liquor here. I suppose it would be rude to murder our hostess after she provided such a fine meal. And we still have the other one. We’ll take her along just to make sure no one gets any heroic ideas.”

  “What other one?” Giles growled softly.

  “The feisty little dark-haired girl. Now, she was a fighter.”

  They had Louella. Giles bit down hard on his fury. “Where is she? If she’s been harmed . . .” He let that dangle.

  “They hurt her, Giles,” Corene told him in a hoarse whisper.

  Giles drew a slow breath between his teeth, then spoke with an unmistakable authority. “I’m Giles St. Clair, second to Max Savoie. You’re in his city, abusing his hospitality, and he will not view that kindly.”

  Martin settled back into his chair, reevaluating the situation. “I wasn’t aware of your connection to Savoie.”

  “Now you know. Think very carefully before you make your next move.”

  “We don’t want any trouble with the New Orleans clan. We came for the female. She’s one of ours.”

  Giles gave her a slight push forward, making Brigit stumble, then go very still. “Take her and do your business elsewhere. Where’s my sister? If she’s been injured—”

  “She got a little banged up, is all. Like I said, she’s a fighter. We have no interest in your family. Once we’ve gone, you’ll find the girl at Timba’s. Do you know where that is?”

  “I know the way. Let me send you on yours.”

  Giles put a bullet between his eyes.

  fourteen

  Before the other two could react, Giles used the gun he’d taken from Brigit on each in turn, killing them with deadly efficiency. With his left hand.

  Brigit stood transfixed, staring up in awe at the terrifying calm of his expression. He barely looked at her, ordering, “Untie them. Stay here.”

  He strode out into the glare of daylight without a word, pausing only to pick up his other weapons, then at his mother’s call of his name. He didn’t turn.

  “Giles, bring her home.”

  Brigit rushed to release the two women, working the ropes as she asked, “Where are Emmett and Boyd? Boyd’s car’s out front.”

  “Emmett’s out with a tour,” Corene told her with shaky composure. “I heard Boyd drive in, but I didn’t see him.” Her eyes suddenly flooded. “Do you think they—?”

  Brigit pressed her shoulder. “I think he went after his sister.” She gave the dead Shifter a fierce look. “Get the trash ready to go out. We’ll dump it when we get back.”

  “You’re going with him? But Giles said—”

  “I rarely listen to what Giles says. A terrible fault of mine.” Then she stared at Irene St. Clair. “Kind of nice having a man around who knows how to take care of business, isn’t it? Be sure you thank him when he gets back.”

  Irene’s eyes narrowed. “For what? Bringing more trouble to our door?”

  Brigit smiled. “You’re a hard piece of work, Mrs. St. Clair. In other circumstances, I’d admire that about you.”

  She did a quick search of the bodies to relieve them of their weapons, then sprinted after Giles, who was about to get into Boyd’s abandoned vehicle. “I’ll drive,” she shouted.

  “You’re not going.”

  “This is my mess to clean up, and you’re in no shape to argue with me.” She caught up to him, meeting his impressive glower without fear. “They’ll be expecting me,” she reasoned. “I can distract them to give you time to get into position.”

  His expression was complex with anger, gratitude, and, she hoped, maybe a little respect.

  “Do you want to save your family or not? Get in,” she urged. “Boyd must have gone after them, so he might already be in place to help us.” Or he was dead. She tried not to dwell on that. “And if we can’t find an advantage, you’ll have me to use as a bargaining tool.”

  Something moved in his features. Regret, guilt? She wasn’t sure.

  “I wasn’t going to trade your life for theirs.”

  Because his qu
iet statement lacked the conviction she needed to hear from him, Brigit smiled grimly, lying, “Why not? If our roles were reversed, I would have.”

  In the pure wash of daylight, Timba’s lost some of its slick appeal. There were two vehicles in the lot, one a showy Lexus and the other an airport rental.

  Brigit cut the engine in the center of the lot, where she could be seen by anyone keeping watch at the front. She’d dropped Giles off before turning in, so it was her show now. Too late to decline the roll of decoy.

  Collateral damage. That’s what everyone around her seemed to become. Silas, Kendra, Daniel, Max Savoie, and now the St. Clair family. They saw her as a selfish pariah who didn’t care who or what was destroyed in her single-minded quest for . . . what? Wealth? Status? Those things didn’t matter, because the one thing she lacked couldn’t be bought or achieved.

  You’re nothing to anyone.

  Harsh words speaking a cruel truth.

  The only value she had was surface. She had nothing anyone wanted underneath.

  But today she was worth something to those villains inside the building. She was worth more alive than dead, for the moment.

  Brigit took a bracing breath and stepped out of the car.

  The interior was dark and quiet, chairs upended on circular tabletops, no sign of any patrons. Just two burly musclemen standing by the bar. She walked toward them, using the roll of her hips to make them hesitate.

  “Martin’s right behind me,” she told them stoically. “Looks like we’ll be traveling to Vegas together.”

  The two males assessed her greedily, then exchanged speculative glances. “I’m supposed to make sure the girl is unharmed.”

  At Brigit’s bold bluff, one of them gestured behind him. “Her and the other one are in the office.”

  “Other one?”

  “The brother. If he’s still breathing.”

  Brigit strolled past them, chin high and expression indifferent. Just what they’d expect from a tiresome bitch.

  The office had one entrance. A large desk for business and a long couch for pleasure were the only furnishings. Louella sat on the couch, her tied hands clenched in her lap and her dangerous gaze on the third man behind the desk. Surprise at seeing Brigit was followed by quickly blinked-away tears.

  “I think they killed Boyd,” she whispered tightly.

  Boyd St. Clair was sprawled on the floor, his head surrounded by a drying pool of blood. Brigit knelt beside him, betraying no emotion as she placed her palm over the horrendous split in his skull. She touched fingertips to his throat, taking her time in finding a faint pulse beneath alarmingly cold skin. Pausing a moment longer to be sure before looking up at the girl and wordlessly shaking her head.

  Louella’s lips quivered as her dark eyes flamed with the need for revenge.

  “I wish I could have gotten here soon enough to save him,” Brigit said quietly. “But you’ll be going home, Louella. They’ve no more need for you.” She glared up at the closest goon. “Let her go.”

  “Not until Marty gives us the say-so.”

  “He’s out in the lot with the other brother. Go ask him. In the meantime, I could sure use a drink.” Brigit sighed dramatically, the hitch in her breasts snagging their attention. “I’ve been away from civilization far too long and would like to enjoy some of its finer things while I can.” She let her gaze glide over each of the males before purring to the one behind the desk, “Would you join me, or does it take all of you to watch one little girl?”

  His eyes grew hotter. “There’s some fine Scotch right here. We might as well make ourselves comfortable.” He gestured to the others. “Take the girl into the bar until Marty decides what to do with her. And take that”—he pointed to the still figure on the floor—“with you, too.”

  Louella gave Brigit a fiercely wounded glare of betrayal as she was yanked off the couch and marched out the door, her brother’s limp body dragged out behind her.

  Brigit settled on the couch, her smile inviting as she watched the preening male fill two glasses and carry them to where she was sitting. She took one with a murmur of thanks, sipped, and made a contented sound that was all the encouragement the fellow needed to lean over her, straddling her legs with his own. She caught his conservative tie, using it to draw him closer, until shuffling sounds from the other room distracted him into glancing over his shoulder.

  Brigit drove her knee up into the heavy bulge in his pants. As he doubled up in instant agony, she slammed her elbow into his jaw, dropping him to the floor to groan insensibly. She knelt on the small of his back and was using the tie to secure his hands when the door opened.

  “Looks like you didn’t need my help after all.”

  Brigit smiled up at Boyd, whose handsome features were a gory mask. “Poor fellow couldn’t hold his liquor. I thought you might like one left alive to take back for questioning.” She gave the back of the moaning fellow’s head a slap. “And hopefully torture.”

  She started to stand, but a sudden dizziness had her swaying sharply on watery legs. Carefully, she slid down onto the couch. It had taken a huge toll to heal Boyd so quickly, sucking her energies, pulling his weakness into herself until she could barely focus.

  Then her heart gave a traitorous clutch as Giles appeared in the doorway. Light seemed to shimmer about his outline, growing brighter and brighter until it consumed all else. She tried to smile, but even that effort was too great as she slumped back onto the cushions in a swoon.

  Her last thought was that no good deed goes unpunished.

  Watching Brigit enter the kidnappers’ den was as difficult as laying back when all of Giles’s tensed muscles screamed out for immediate action. His family was inside. And those who had abused them were going to suffer for it.

  Giving Brigit time to set up the play, Giles tested his injured shoulder. He could move it, barely. The sharp, biting pain had dulled to an insistent gnawing. The fever that had made clear thought impossible had calmed into a steady throb. Uncomfortable but manageable. Apparently, he’d overestimated the damage. A small thing to be thankful for on this day of trials.

  He couldn’t stop picturing that small bloody handprint on the doorframe.

  He fought against imagining worse.

  Where was Boyd?

  What had he been thinking, letting Brigit walk in there alone?

  He derailed the self-defeating direction of those thoughts and started to move toward the door at a quick lope. Being a smart girl, Brigit would try to lure them away from the entrance to make his less noticeable.

  Unless they’d killed her immediately.

  He gritted his teeth and slowly eased the door open, breathing a sigh of relief that the room was empty. He started toward the sound of voices coming from the hallway behind the bar, just managing to duck behind it when he heard movement. He risked a glance that almost cost him everything.

  Louella, weeping and battered.

  Boyd, blood-drenched and unmoving.

  Rage blacked out all reason. He’d started up out of his crouch, ready to slake that fury with the appropriate measure of violence, when he realized Brigit wasn’t with them. Slowly, emotions taut and trembling, he sank back out of sight.

  He let the man dragging Boyd start to move past him. As his cousin came into view, a startling thing happened.

  Boyd’s eyes opened, staring directly into his.

  That gaze did a quick cut to the stocky male ahead of him, and Boyd began a three-finger countdown. Two. One.

  The surprise of seeing a supposed dead man not only restored to life, but rising up in full fur and fangs to rip into the throat of his guard, stunned the first Shifter long enough for Giles to act with an equal if less gruesome ferociousness. One powerful move had the brute dropping where stood, his neck broken.

  Giles rocked back on his heels as Louella flung herself upon him for a tight squeeze. Over her dark head, he stared uneasily at his other cousin, who had resumed his human form and was wiping his mouth on the ba
ck of his hand. This was what Boyd St. Clair was. An animal like the ones he’d put down at the house. The notion itself had disturbed him. Seeing the actuality gave him pause.

  Lou had no such hesitation as her arms quickly tangled about her brother’s neck. “That was something to see!” she gushed.

  “How long have you known?” Boyd asked quietly.

  “Years. Geez, I’m not stupid.”

  Boyd laughed and hugged her tight. “No. That, you’re not.”

  “I thought they’d killed you.” Lou got all teary again as she examined the dreadful wound on her brother’s head that had somehow closed.

  Boyd smiled a bit nervously. “I’m not sure you’d be wrong in that. Your girl,” he told Giles, “she brought me back.”

  “From where?” Giles couldn’t quite grasp what his cousin was suggesting.

  “From the bright light at the end of the tunnel, brother. She put her hand on me and pulled me back.”

  Giles frowned. Impossible. “Where’s Brigit?”

  Boyd nodded toward the back. “She was keeping the other one busy so I could make my move. Thanks for stepping in, by the way. I owe you.”

  Noting his distraction, Lou followed her cousin’s glance down the hall and urged, “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

  Following Boyd’s lead, Giles went through the doorway to the office, breath held in anticipation of the worst. The protective fierceness rumbling through him had nothing to do with his promise to a business partner and everything to do with the woman who’d returned his kisses so sweetly. Who’d walked with head held high toward potential death to help him save his family.

  Very different sentiments careened within him as he beheld her in all her fiery wrath, kneeling atop her trussed-up captor. So brave. Glorious. Extraordinary.

  His.

  That whispered beneath the rest, so quietly he almost missed it.

  Then concern roared back to life as she crumpled on the couch.

  While Boyd saw to his fellow Shifter, Giles went to one knee beside Brigit. Had they hurt her? That deep, dark well of fury began to fill again. He could see no sign of injury on her tender skin. He felt for and found a steady pulse at the curve of her throat. And then her eyes flickered open. She smiled faintly, her fingertips touching unsteadily to his lips.