Emil tapped him on his arm. By the time Malcolm had turned his head, Val had sprung forward. There was a loud pop. Malcolm knew it for what it was—the sound of a gun going off with a silencer attached, the name of the device way overselling its actual functionality. No one outside would ever hear the bang, but it wasn’t undetectable this close. With his guns up, Malcolm hurried to join his compatriots while continuing to cover their six. He kept waiting for more gunfire. None came, and when he finally entered the lit cavern, he saw why.
“Fuck me.”
Petru knelt at the far end near a basic bedroll. He was naked, as if having been asleep when the assault had happened. None of those facts were notable. No, the utterly surprising part was that the man had his hands up—and he was smiling.
A quick glance confirmed that a pile of ash lay beside a large cache of 3-D printed guns. They were stuffed into wooden crates that stood open. There wasn’t much else inside the small area except for some personal items and food rations. Malcolm wrinkled his nose at the salty and sour smell that told him Petru and his companion had been occupying the area for a while. Something wasn’t right. There had to be more than these two, and there was no way Petru would leave himself so easily trapped. For damn sure, he wouldn’t surrender. While Alex had required that they always be ready to take prisoners, that was not a thing that had proved true among Dracul’s men.
With his sight still on the way they’d come, he asked no one in particular. “Who was it with him?”
Alex grunted. “That idiot maintenance drone who followed Dracul like a whipped dog.”
Malcolm pictured the low-level crew member and dismissed him with his next thought. “Who else is there?”
“An excellent question,” Alex drawled. “Care to answer it, Petru, before we turn you to ash?”
“There’s only me and the ‘idiot’. Thank you for taking care of him for me. His moronic patter was driving me crazy.”
Malcolm had forgotten how much he hated the sound of the man’s unctuous tone of voice. “Don’t play the fool with us, Petru.” He inched more into the room.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve been waiting for you. You made good time, I must say. I wasn’t sure you’d put the pieces together so quickly and I’d be forced to languish in this hellhole for weeks, if not months.”
Keeping his gun ready, Alex stepped closer to the man. “Explain yourself.”
“Gladly, sir. I wanted to speak with you but assumed I wouldn’t get much of a chance to if I approached in a more conventional way.” His gaze flicked to Val. “He would have killed me before I’d opened my mouth.”
Val bared his teeth. “You’ve got that right, asshole.”
“I would have done the same, once upon a time, for Dracul.” His expression turned feral. “Not anymore. In any event, I thought my chances better if you came to me. My scheme was simple. I gave away these defective, new-fangled guns to foolish humans who I knew operated in your city with the hope of gaining your attention. Then, I assumed Val would have learned about Dracul’s old gunrunning operation here and you’d check it out. It worked, obviously.”
Malcolm huffed. “You made and gave away defective 3-D printed guns to humans so that they’d explode on them?”
Petru shrugged. “They’re not all defective. And it caught your attention, didn’t it?”
“Aye. Fucker that you are. We did the math.”
“Exactly. And who cares about a few humans? Vermin. And stupid besides. So self-destructive. Even after a couple of guns exploded, I still had orders to purchase them. If nothing else, I would have made a pretty penny off the sales. That wasn’t Plan A, however.” Petru regarded Alex. “You’ve always been fair-minded. I counted on your not killing me outright in these circumstances. I’m helpless and capitulating. Are you really going to execute me?”
“Give me a reason not to.”
Petru smiled, a truly nauseating vision. “I can help you find and stop Dracul once and for all.”
The bottom of Malcolm’s stomach dropped. “He’s already dead,” he spat out before anyone else could.
“You think that, do you?” Petru shook his head. “None of you are so naïve. You didn’t actually see him crumble into ash, did you?” When they said nothing, he smirked. “Thought as much. He lived.”
“You lie.” Malcolm’s fury rose, taking control of him. He stepped forward with his gun raised. All he could think of was his darling lad being at risk again.
Petru didn’t so much as blink. “There’s no reason for me to. After you left with the castle smoldering, I waited in the woods for someone in particular. He never showed. My only explanation is that he left with Dracul.”
“Meaning that you never saw Dracul after our raid,” Alex interjected. “Your belief that he lives is purely supposition, just as much as ours that he died.”
“An educated one, though. Who better than I to know him and how he operates? And I believe with every fiber of my being that he did survive. I want to bring him down myself. I figure if I join forces with you, it increases my odds of finding and truly ending him.”
Malcolm actually had no trouble believing the man when he said he wanted to kill Dracul. He remembered the point in the battle when Petru had had the chance to intervene and try to save his master. His failure to do so had puzzled Malcolm at the time. Trusting him to be an ally was another matter, however.
“Why?” Alex asked the obvious question. “After centuries of being his right-hand man, why would you turn on him now?”
“Because he stole something from me. Someone,” he amended. “And I want him back, or at least, I don’t want Dracul to have him.”
“A boy,” Emil said.
“Yes.”
And Malcolm remembered that, as well—the almost-feral lad with the strangely striped hair and mismatched eyes who’d flown to Dracul’s defense with suicidal rage. So, he was once Petru’s slave? It must have stung to have his toy snatched away by a bigger bully.
Val grunted. “We don’t trade in humans. You know that.”
“I’m not asking you to. I simply want to end Dracul out of spite. You can understand that, surely.”
“We can,” Alex allowed. “At least we can understand why you’d be motivated by such. It doesn’t convince me that we need you.”
“There is no one who knows Dracul—the way he thinks, the contingency plans he’s made, the property he owns—like I do. You need me, Alex. Keep me locked up, if that makes you feel better. But I will help you, make no mistake. And when it’s finished, all I want is your promise to let me go. I will never again do anything that impacts you or your unfathomable desire to protect humans. I have my own money, enough to live happily for the rest of my life. I won’t give you a moment of trouble ever again.”
“That’s for certain,” Alex agreed.
Malcolm huffed. “You cannae be considering this. You know he cannae be trusted.”
Alex eyed him. “Of course he can’t and I don’t.” Without another word or any warning, Alex lashed out with a roundhouse kick that hit Petru square in the face. The guy crumpled silently to the ground. “Secure him, Val, for the trip back.”
“Alex”—Malcolm approached his old friend and captain—“it’s not safe, man, to bring him back and keep him prisoner. Think of Quinn and the other lads. I’ll be heading back to Scotland soon, but you’ll be stuck with him where? At the club? He’s a danger to the ones we love.”
Alex’s eyes were troubled. “He is that. But if he’s right and Dracul still lives, Petru is also, as he says, the best suited to find him and know his weaknesses.”
“And if it’s part of a trap set by Dracul?”
“Then we have to finish it—again.” He watched Val truss Petru with zip-ties. “As you well know, we’ve always been prepared to take prisoners. It has just never come up. There’s a room in the basement of the club that is intended for this very purpose. Even if he’s lying, we chose long ago to play by our own rules of engageme
nt. The moment he put his hands up, he stopped us from firing because we don’t kill prisoners. Not without provocation,” he amended. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Malcolm, but we need to bring him back to Boston on your ship.”
Malcolm sighed. “There’s no asking, Alex. You’re the boss, and if you say we haul his sorry ass with us, then that’s what we’ll do.”
There was no question of the way this night was going to end. Malcolm followed Alex’s orders because he trusted the man. He simply wasn’t sure how Brenin would react to seeing one of his torturers again. He’d do anything to shield his lad from the pain. And Dafydd… Och, what a fucking misery it was going to be for that poor man, as well. There was no hope for it. They needed to make sure, however, that this threat-turned-unexpected-ally remained well and truly under their control.
Chapter Eleven
“It’s almost dawn.” Ric knew he was stating the obvious as he stood propped against the railing staring in the direction the raiding party had gone.
“Yeah, it’s making me squirrely, too,” Duncan admitted.
The cop had been patrolling the deck all night, armed and vigilant, despite having help from the rest of them. Only Demi, however, had carried a gun. Everyone else had declined to do so, including Ric. He’d discovered back in Scotland that despite years of playing video games, actually holding a weapon with the expectation that he might have to use it against a living creature was not in his comfort zone.
Apparently he wasn’t alone in that sentiment in this particular company. Even Lucien, who’d spent over a century in the aliens’ orbit, had refused. Dafydd had fled with Idris back to his stateroom with Ric’s blessing. If something nasty went down, he wanted those two as far away from the action as possible.
There was only a hint of pink hanging low in the far horizon across the water, and yet he expected that within the hour, people in the Putnam Cove harbor would begin to stir. The last thing anyone needed to see was a boatload of mostly naked giants looking like bandoleros skipping along the waves. That would be an awkward conversation if the Marine Patrol spotted and stopped them.
“Come on,” Duncan muttered into the air in general. “The raid on Dracul’s castle took less time than this. Where the fuck are you?”
Ric didn’t say anything to the obviously rhetorical question, but the cop’s nerves only served to increase his anxiety.
Demi came racing up. “They’re coming.”
“They are?” Leaning over the railing, Ric strained both his eyesight and his hearing and detected nothing. Of course, he didn’t have Demi’s alien physiology. It took a couple more minutes before the sound of an outboard motor reached his ears. Not long thereafter, the small boat carrying their comrades came into view.
Without saying a word, the three of them headed toward the stern to help the others get back on board and secure the tender. He let Duncan and Demi get ahead of him, knowing that he wasn’t much use compared to the skill, experience and plain muscle mass of most everyone else. He stayed on the top level while Duncan and Demi climbed down to the platform. The relatively small space would be crowded enough, and even those two weren’t necessary, given that Malcolm jumped the gap between the two vessels with ease, lines in hand, securing them with a flash of movement that made Ric dizzy.
He stood gawking at the proceedings like a tourist, feeling superfluous, while determined to be available should he be needed. That seemed unlikely. He didn’t have much to offer. With Harry around, even his skills as a doctor were redundant if someone had been hurt, which didn’t appear to be the case anyway. Gathering intel had been his one big contribution to this venture and that had come to an end. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to lounge about if there was work to be done. It was just not in his nature to be idle.
He stood gripping the rails, watching as the aliens boarded just in time to benefit from the remaining cover the night afforded them. The gloom couldn’t hide the fact, however, that while five men had left, six were returning. He blinked rapidly to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light or his tired eyes seeing double. But no, there was definitely a manly form wrapped up in a tarp and slung awkwardly over Val’s shoulders. Ric’s mind worked at making sense of what he was seeing. He knew what happened to the aliens when they died, so either this was a human ally that they’d chosen not to kill or—
“Who the hell is that?” Duncan demanded as he grabbed a bag from the dinghy.
It was Malcolm who answered, curtly. “Petru. Where’s Brenin?” He practically jumped up the stairs and sped past Ric.
“In the saloon, I think,” Ric answered, “with Quinn and Jase, resting,” he added to Malcolm’s retreating back.
Emil came next. “He wants to break the news to his boy himself and make sure he doesn’t have to see the fucker while we secure him.”
Ric eyed the limp, wrapped form that Val carried with ease now that he had more room. “I don’t think anyone can survive in that tarp. Can the guy even breathe with that plastic around him?”
“Who the fuck cares?” Val growled. He took off for the stairs leading below deck with Harry trailing behind him.
Alex came next and flashed Ric a smile. “It’s a bit of a strange tale.”
Duncan, with Demi in tow, joined them. “What the hell took you so long? I was beginning to worry.”
“Very sorry, Sergeant. The takedown of Petru and his one cohort went quickly, but destroying the cache of weapons they’d stored in the cave system took longer. We couldn’t simply rig an explosion without risking bringing the cliff down and calling attention to it all. We ended up smashing thousands of guns by hand.”
Alex flexed his fingers. “Tedious work, to be sure.”
“I’ll bet,” Duncan said, gathering Demi to his side. “That doesn’t explain why we have your sworn enemy tucked up here.”
Alex sighed. “Yes, well, he surrendered instead of trying to kill us immediately like the other one did. And he insists that Dracul is alive. He’s offered to switch sides, as it were, for personal reasons.”
Duncan let out a string of curses, but Ric was focusing on one thing.
“Dracul lives? Seriously? That has to be a lie. This guy’s messing with you, surely, to save his own life.”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”
“Dafydd.” Ric felt as if he’d been punched in the gut as understanding dawned. What would this mean to the man he loved? “If Dracul’s still out there, he’ll come after Dafydd.”
“Perhaps,” Alex allowed. He put his hand lightly on Ric’s shoulder. “We won’t let him get anywhere near him or Idris. I promise you.”
“No, not good enough.” Ric’s mind raced with fear. “I have to go warn him, like Malcolm is with Brenin. Then I have to protect him. I don’t want him out of my sight until this thing is settled—for real this time.”
He knew he was babbling and his insistence on taking care of Dafydd was almost laughable, given his acknowledged lack of skill in the area of combat. He couldn’t help it, however. The instinct to guard Dafydd and the baby from harm overrode all rational thought.
Alex peered down at him intently. “I understand your feelings on this matter, Doctor, and I honor your claim over Dafydd and his child. So long as Dafydd is in agreement, you are more than welcome to move into the club. Although,” he added with a frown, “quarters are getting a bit tight. It’s time to expand into the adjacent building that I purchased a few months ago.”
“Whatever,” Ric replied. He didn’t care if he had to sleep in a shoebox. So long as Dafydd was safe, nothing else mattered. “Excuse me.”
Not bothering to wait for a response, he took off for the stateroom he by default shared with Dafydd. When he entered it, he was relieved to find both of his boys asleep. Idris was in his usual tortured bottom-up position. Dafydd lay on his side with his back to the wall and a fist tucked under his chin. A bit of the last of the moonlight shown in through the porthole, casting a glow over his beautiful, pale face. At re
st, he looked young, essentially how he must have looked when Dracul had found him long ago. The alien blood had arrested his development to a large extent. It was a heartbreaking sight, and Ric had to remind himself that centuries had passed in Dafydd’s life. He’d ceased being an adolescent through experience and a maturity of his mind that wasn’t reflected in his outward appearance.
He had only a moment to gawk, however, before Dafydd’s eyes flew open. The obvious evidence of how alert Dafydd had been forced to become broke Ric’s heart all over again. He really didn’t want to have to give the news he had, yet there was no waiting on it.
Dafydd propped himself up on one elbow. “What is it, then? Bad news,” he concluded when Ric didn’t answer immediately. “Who did we lose?” Dafydd’s tone was so bleak, so resigned to misery.
“No one,” Ric quickly assured him. He went to the bed and sat gingerly on the side. He tried to be careful not to crowd the boy. “The mission was successful and one more of Dracul’s goons has been eliminated.”
How odd that how quickly I’ve changed the way I think and speak. His vocabulary had become martial instead of medical. Someone had died that night, been killed. That it was an alien and an enemy shouldn’t matter. He should feel worse about it, as his training had molded him. Every life was worth saving if at all possible. That was the way an ED doctor should think. It was what he would have said only a few months ago. Everything was different now. He was. That unnamed asshole in the cave had gotten what he deserved and could no longer threaten his beloved.
Dafydd pushed up to a sitting position, his legs crossed under the covers. “It’s not the whole of it, though. I can see there’s more in your expression.”
Healing Dance Page 15
