by Tracy Tappan
“Just because someone doesn’t concede to another’s wishes,” Roth countered smoothly, “doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard them.”
“Ah.” Toni sat back, her forearms on the armrests. “So you were just ignoring them?”
“Not in the disrespectful way you’re suggesting.” Roth steepled his fingers together in front of him. “I assure you that I haven’t been disregarding anyone’s feelings or wishes. There have just been issues of survival at stake.”
“We appreciate that you’re dealing with your own set of challenges.” She paused a moment, tamping down the urge to snark, spare us that argument, we’ve all heard it ad infinitum. That probably would come across as churlish. “Our position is this, however: nothing excuses taking women against their will. If you continue to kidnap Dragons, we will refuse to live in Ţărână. That’s the bottom line, and it’s non-negotiable.”
His brows arching, Roth turned to look at the Dragons at the far end of the table. “You plan to leave your husbands and children?”
Toni felt her face tightening, her jaw locking. She and Kimberly had discussed the possibility that Roth would use the Dragons’ love for their Vârcolac husbands against them. Now here he was, being oh-so-Roth-like. “The Dragons have no intention of leaving their children. They’ll live topside with them.”
Willen sucked in a breath. “By darkest night.”
“Maggie, my dear…” Luken began.
“The husbands,” Toni plowed on before the Dragons could waver, “will be invited topside once a week during nighttime hours to feed.” She smiled tightly at Roth. “The Dragon women don’t want any harm to come to their men, whom they love dearly.”
“No.” Jaċken snapped off the single word like a curse.
She shifted frosty eyes over to him. “Unless you plan to kidnap us again, and woe betide anyone who tries it,” she gritted, “then you can take your no and stuff it. The only way to get us back into the community is by agreeing to our demands.” She looked at Roth again.
He inclined his head at her. “Nicely played.”
“This isn’t a game,” she shot back, air burning through her lungs. “The Dragons engineered this escape to make sure that you understand they’re dead serious about their concerns over Ţărână’s leadership. I recommend you listen to them, Roth, for once.”
Roth tucked his steepled hands beneath his chin and regarded her mutely.
Chapter Thirty-one
Jaċken’s fist hooked out in a brutal uppercut, slamming into the brown-haired cop’s chin to shut that gawping-way-the-fuck-open mouth of his….
All right…no, he didn’t actually do it. But he saw the act in his mind’s eye so clearly, so perfectly, it was as if he actually had. He also wouldn’t mind pulling a Three Stooges on the peckerhead and double-fingering the man’s bulging eyeballs back into their sockets. For Christ’s sake, Toni might as well be naked, the way the cop was eyeballing her.
Jaċken should probably cut the guy some slack, considering Toni did look totally hot. But slack-cutting had never been one of his strengths, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for it now. No, the longer that cop stared at Toni with such blatant hunger in his eyes, the more Jaċken wanted to introduce the man to getting his ass kicked Rău-style.
“Toni,” the cop exhaled her name. “Good God, you really are here.”
“Detective Waterson?” Toni inflected her voice with mild surprise, although Jaċken saw her hands flex and release at her sides. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
The cop’s expression morphed into something between incredulity and irritation. “You’ve been a missing person for more than two weeks now, Dr. Parthen, and I’ve been busting my hump trying to find you, that’s what I’m doing here.” He drew up right in front of her and stared her dead in the eyes.
A growl built in Jaċken’s chest, a single crackle popping dangerously in his ears. He forced himself to concentrate on the glow of the light over the conference table, the smell of disinfectant, the sound of Sedge shifting his feet subtly into a stance of readiness. The growl exited his lips as a hard breath.
Toni cut him a chill-out glance.
Waterson followed the look around the edge of the door—and his eyebrows shot straight up.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Toni tried, but—
The cop wasn’t listening to her. He was already shouldering past Toni, his eyes traveling in swift assessment over their group, lingering on Sedge and Jaċken. Looked like the cop didn’t care much for their large size and obvious strength.
Waterson’s dark-skinned partner followed, then Toni stepped back into the room, her expression strained.
Waterson’s brows made another trip toward the ceiling when he spotted Toni’s brother. “Well, isn’t this interesting?” he drawled. “And here I thought you were frantic with worry over your sister, Alexander. Now you look like you should be having tea with the Queen.”
“Yeah,” Alex chuckled, “no worries, John. Everything’s cool, as it turns out.”
“Oh?” Waterson crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “How’s that, exactly?”
“Ah, well, that’s because, um….” Alex’s smile skewed off center.
Jesus. Obviously, Mr. Milquetoast hadn’t prepped for ways to avoid saying things like “vampires” and “secret, underground community.” Jaċken muttered a curse under his breath. He’d be seriously amazed if he managed to get through this without hitting someone.
“Please, Detectives,” Dr. Jess intervened, a charming smile aimed at the two cops. “If I might be permitted to clarify matters. I think Alex and Toni Parthen might seem a bit awkward because they’re not sure how much they’re allowed to say. You see, these past few weeks Dr. Parthen has been going through a rigorous interview process for a position with our Research Institute. We have a highly classified operation, however, so during the time Dr. Parthen was with us, she wasn’t allowed contact with anyone outside of our facilities, including her family. We’ve just recently determined she’s passed all of her security clearances, and we’ve come here tonight to officially offer her the position.”
“I see,” Waterson responded in the bland tone of someone whose bullshit meter was pinging.
“And the name of this institute?”
Dr. Jess gave Waterson a regretful look. “I’m sorry, but I’m not free to say anything more than I already have.”
Waterson looked less than impressed. “Well, that’s kind of problematic for me, isn’t it?” He turned on Toni. “And you couldn’t have told your family you were going to be out of touch before you left for this…interview?”
“Of course, and I thought I had,” Toni answered, rolling smoothly into this new direction. “I was suffering from a concussion, though, and it had made me a bit fuzzy.”
Jaċken almost snorted his appreciation. Good answer.
Waterson pursed his lips. “I have to admit to feeling a bit fuzzy here, myself.” He reached into his breast pocket, his lips slanting when Sedge and Jaċken stiffened. The detective pulled out a small notebook and opened it. He glanced at it, then looked back up at Toni. “You wrote numerous emails to your brother stating that you were at a hematology seminar in St. Louis.” He flipped the notebook closed with a short swing of his wrist. “Now why would you have done that, if you were really at some super hush-hush job interview?”
“I…didn’t write any emails like that.”
“They came from your email account.”
Toni paused, her throat moving. Whether or not she would’ve eventually said something brilliant, it didn’t matter. The silence was long and telling enough.
Waterson slid his notebook back into his breast pocket. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. You two big boys are going to turn around and place your hands on the wall, making sure to act all nice and cooperative for my partner here. Nobody else moves—even sneezes—while I take Dr. Parthen into the hall for a private chat.”
“No.” Jaċken clipped the single word.
Waterson smiled coldly. “Now how did I know you’d be the one to put up a fuss about that, champ?”
The dark-skinned cop slid a hand inside his coat.
Waterson jerked his chin at Jaċken’s black clothes. “You’re not a doctor with this Research Institute?”
“I’m with security.”
“Ah. Well, then, you’ll certainly understand my need to see your ID, won’t you?” The chill in Waterson’s smile worked into his eyes.
Jaċken felt a sneer start to pull at his upper lip. If you don’t mind me feeding it up your ass through a tube.
Tension crackled in the air between them.
“You have very unusual eyes.” Waterson’s bland tone was back.
“My mother was French,” Jaċken responded, just as mildly.
“That explains it. The ID?”
Jaċken reached for his wallet, moving slowly for the sake of the dark-skinned Cisco Kid over there with the itchy trigger finger. He pulled out one of Cleeve’s manufactured business cards and held it out. “This is the contact information for the government agency we work for. We answer to them, cop, not to you. So any more questions you have can go through that number.”
Waterson looked down at the business card and—
The cop’s hand shot out, grabbing Jaċken by the wrist and yanking his arm forward. He shoved the long sleeve of Jaċken’s leather jacket up to his elbow, exposing the teeth tattoos he’d spotted showing at the cuff of Jaċken’s jacket. “Some unique tats you have here, sport.”
Jaċken curled his free hand into a fist, but didn’t slam Waterson’s head down the chute of his neck like he wanted. The barrel of a gun had suddenly appeared at the side of his vision, pointing directly at his face. Waterson’s partner had drawn his pistol.
“Oh, God,” Toni groaned out.
“I was once in a gang,” Jaċken squeezed through set teeth. “Now get your fucking hands off me.”
Toni’s lids sank closed. Not exactly the chill-out from him she’d been hoping for, probably.
“I think I’m going to choose option number two on this one, chief, and bring you down to the station for questioning. Men with tats like yours are wanted in connection with the attempted kidnapping of a teenage girl, as well as various other crimes around the city.” Waterson pulled a two-way radio off his belt. “This is Detective Waterson,” he spoke into it, “I’m going to need back up at—” Words stopped coming out of his mouth.
The Cisco Kid was disarmed and lying unconscious on the floor.
No one had even seen Sedge move.
“Oh, man,” Alex Parthen breathed, “that was so cool.”
“Restate your position, Detective Waterson,” a voice crackled from the radio. “Your last transmission was—”
Jaċken grabbed the two-way out of Waterson’s hand and then, pop, one quick hard squeeze sent springs, buttons, and internal hardware flying in all directions.
A hammer would’ve normally been needed to achieve the same results, but Waterson didn’t so much as blink an eyelash. Damned impressive. Jaċken almost hated to mess the guy up now. Almost…. Lightning quick, he grabbed Waterson by the throat and hauled the man off the floor, feet dangling.
“Oh, my God,” Toni gasped. “Please, don’t hurt him.”
Waterson strained bugged-out eyes in Toni’s direction. “I’m sorry,” he rasped.
“No,” Toni said, “really, it’s not what you—”
But the cop had already turned his attention back to Jaċken.
Jaċken had to hand it to Waterson, the man was a cool cucumber. Even with a roadway of veins sticking out along his forehead, the detective managed to look more peeved off than scared.
“I’m going to…kill you…for hurting her.”
Jaċken snorted. “That’s some piss-poor detective work, asswipe. Last thing anyone’s going to do is hurt her.”
“Just let him go,” Toni pleaded, “please.”
Jaċken cut her a look. “You want me to tuck him night-night into bed and give him a lollipop, too?” What was Toni thinking? Waterson wanted to take them all to jail.
Waterson bared his teeth in a grimace of pain. “This isn’t…over between us.”
“It is for me, Hoss.” Jaċken lowered Waterson into striking range then smashed a fist into the side of the man’s head.
Toni watched Waterson drop to the floor, stared at the cop for a count of two, then swung her eyes back up to Jaċken. “Are you crazy? You just made an enemy out of the SDPD?”
“Do you think I really give a—?” Jaċken spun around, bringing his fists up as the conference room door crashed open.
Kimberly stumbled inside. “Sedge! God, where’s Sedge?”
“I’m here.” Sedge leapt forward, his brow creased with concern. “What’s going on, Berly?”
She flew into his arms. “I want to go home! Please! Take me back to Ţărână right now!”
Sedge’s mouth dropped open. The man probably would’ve been more prepared for his wife to ask for a colonoscopy “since we’re here at a hospital, anyway,” than say that.
“Let’s all get the hell out of here,” Jaċken ordered, gesturing the husbands to gather their wives, “right now.”
* * *
Earlier….
Kimberly cut through the ER and headed into the small offshoot room full of the vending machines, scanning the choices. Maybe she’d get a granola bar, too. It was, after all, really morning time to her body. Digging in her pocket, she found a dollar’s worth of change and plunked the quarters into the coffee machine, one at a time. A cup dropped down, and Kimberly absently watched the long stream of steamy brown liquid squirt into the cup.
A couple of young women ducked into the vending machine room.
“I can’t believe they brought him to this hospital,” the redhead tittered. “Oh, Gawd, the ambulance is just pulling up.”
“He’s soooo amazing,” the brunette cooed in agreement. “In a sec we’re going to get to see him close up. I can’t wait!”
Well, this was interesting. Had Justin Bieber hurt himself getting yet another tattoo? Kimberly grabbed her coffee cup and drew up to the young women, peering over their shoulders. “Who’s coming in?”
The redhead glanced at her. “Only the Seattle Seahawks’ best running back ever.”
Kimberly’s hand jerked into a clamp around her coffee cup. The Seattle Seahawks….
“Tim Armbruster,” the brunette provided.
The name descended on Kimberly like the shock of a misfiring gun, like a hand blown off, too absolute and horrific to be believed.
“Weren’t you watching the game tonight?” the redhead babbled on. “He hurt his—”
Kimberly’s lips parted and her lungs worked in two short pants before the rest of the oxygen clogged deep in her chest.
“—knee, and—”
“OMG,” the brunette squealed. “There he is!”
The ER’s sliding glass doors swished open and a gurney was pushed in holding a tall, muscular man.
Yes, there he was. Same dark brown hair and eyes, same square jaw, same athletically perfect body.
Every muscle in Kimberly’s body locked up—except for the hand holding her coffee. That began to shake violently, splattering hot coffee onto her fingers. Her brain acknowledged the pain, the blistering of her skin, but she couldn’t move. She was stuck, helpless. Powerless. Weak. Vulnerable. Suicidal. Her vision swam as she was thrust back to her college yea
rs, some of Tim’s choicer comments rampaging through her mind as clear and hurtful as if he were hurling them at her right now.
Will you shut up, if I wanted the opinion of a blonde ditz, I’d ask for it.
And you call yourself a PoliSci major…? Christ, that was the stupidest fucking opinion ever.
Do you think it’d be too much to ask for you to actually move the next time we screw, or is it impossible for you to do anything right?
You’re such a little whore…you wanna go bone that guy, is that why you’re looking at him?
Bile seared up the back of her throat. And then there was the worst memory of them all…the blood gushing down her thighs.
The Tim on the gurney turned his head toward the vending machine area, and Kimberly slammed back against the wall to hide, her coffee cup slipping from her numb fingers. It hit the floor flat on its bottom and geysered up hot liquid, spraying across the carpet and onto the redhead’s pants.
“Hey! What the—?!” The redhead broke off. “Whoa, lady, are you okay?”
Kimberly couldn’t answer. Tears gushed silently and uncontrollably down her face. Her limbs gave way, dumping her onto her butt so hard her teeth clacked together.
“Oh, my God!” The redhead whirled on the brunette. “Get a doctor!”
Kimberly’s head lolled to one side. She saw Tim disappear from the ER waiting room into the treatment area, and the breath she’d been holding ripped out of her. She sucked in another breath like a drowning woman, and another. “I need Sedge,” she croaked. Her husband wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Never, never, never….
The redhead bent over her, her expression scrunched with confusion. “Doctor who?”
Exhaling a pained breath, Kimberly rolled onto her hands and knees, shook her head to clear it, then hefted herself to her feet and ran unsteadily for the elevator.
Chapter Thirty-two
Kimberly slumped on her living room couch, sniffling wetly as she peered through the arched doorway of the foyer into the kitchen.
