The White Knight & Black Valentine Series (Book 4): Kill Them All

by Brand, Kristen

  “Valentina.” Jean-Baptiste’s voice didn’t carry well, the stadium too big and open. “You’re right on time.”

  I looked around. Behind and above me, in what would have been the nosebleed section back when this place sold tickets, four of Jean-Baptiste’s men stood with guns in hand. Having the higher ground, they’d be able to shoot me easily. Two more were posted inside the announcer’s box hanging from the ceiling, a metal catwalk leading out to it, though I wouldn’t have noticed them if Elisa hadn’t told me where to look. Another should be hiding out in the corridor that served as a second entrance and exit. There was no sign of Ember, which worried me. I was the Black Valentine, powers or no powers. Jean-Baptiste shouldn’t be meeting me without his strongest fighter for protection.

  I walked slowly down the stairs, having to step around broken pieces of some seats vandalizers had smashed. Though Elisa had said Jean-Baptiste wanted me alive, my skin prickled in awareness of how vulnerable I was, open to gunmen from every angle. The short, dilapidated stadium seats wouldn’t provide nearly enough cover.

  But if he wanted me dead, they’d have pulled their triggers already. He must need me for something, though I had no idea what.

  I went down the last step and drew level with them, looking Rosa over for injuries now that I was close enough. Red marks marred her wrists from pulling against the zip tie, and her feet were as dirty and scratched as I’d feared, but there were no bruises on her. A pretty college student, she had curly dark hair, piercings, and a shoulder tattoo. She trembled but wasn’t so frightened that she couldn’t shoot the henchman holding her a dirty look when he tightened his grip on her arm.

  “Hi, Rosa,” I said gently. “You’re going to make it out of here. I promise.”

  “Sure,” she squeaked. “I’m not worried or anything.”

  I looked at Jean-Baptiste, who hadn’t turned his head in my direction. Not that it made any difference to him, but he usually made the effort out of politeness to sighted people. My breaths felt somehow sharper in my lungs, and my heart pounded like a war drum. Twenty years. That was how long I’d known Jean-Baptiste, only for him to turn on me and attack my husband and daughter. My fingers twitched, and I became very aware of the guns holstered against my sides. I wanted to shoot him and damn the consequences.

  I’d always had a temper, but the feeling rushing through me now… It felt too strong to belong to me, like my telepathy had returned and I was sensing someone else’s rage. In the end, I was only stopped by the knowledge that his gunmen would drop me before I managed to pull the pistol from its holster.

  “Let her go,” I said.

  Behind the railing, waves lapped gently against the shore below. I needed Rosa safely away. Only when she was safe could I start taking risks.

  “You’re carrying,” Jean-Baptiste said. “Drop your guns—all of them.”

  That was going to make things harder. Reluctantly, I reached under my blazer and pulled out my pistols, letting them clatter to the dirty concrete.

  “Only two?” Jean-Baptiste nodded at the henchman not holding Rosa. “Search her.”

  The man approached me, smelling of expensive cologne. He ran his hands up and down me quickly and professionally, though honestly, my pants were too tight to hide so much as a razor. Then he rifled through my purse.

  “One more in her purse,” he said, pulling out the Beretta and handing the bag back to me.

  “Really, Val?” Jean-Baptiste asked.

  “I was going to give it to you,” I said in sickly sweet voice. “Well, the bullets, anyway.”

  The henchman picked up the two other guns at my feet and returned to Jean-Baptiste’s side. Now came the moment of truth. Would Jean-Baptiste let Rosa go or keep her as leverage? Your guess was as good as mine. I clearly didn’t know the man anymore. He was a stranger, and maybe it was better that way since I’d feel less when I finally killed him.

  “Let her go,” Jean-Baptiste said.

  The henchman released Rosa, who took three quick steps away from him. Then she paused and looked uncertainly at me.

  “Go.” I tilted my head in the direction I’d come in from. “Head straight down the street—and be careful where you step.”

  Hands still zip-tied in front of her, she gingerly made her way up the stairs. The henchman who’d been holding her stepped toward me with another zip tie, and my mind went into overdrive. These next few minutes were critical. It would take time for Rosa to exit the stadium, and I’d told Irma and Eddy not to make any move until she was gone. If I was tied up or taken away before that happened, it would ruin the whole plan.

  “Why?” I snarled, slapping the zip tie out of his hand and rounding on Jean-Baptiste. “How could you do this to me? We used to be friends. You used to have a little honor.”

  I was trying to act hysterical, and it wasn’t hard. I let all the rage and frustration I’d felt over the last twelve hours seep into my voice. The henchman grabbed my arm, restraining me, while the other took a protective step in front of Jean-Baptiste. But no one went to pick up the zip tie.

  “You don’t have friends,” Jean-Baptiste said calmly. “Just people you use.”

  “Is that what this is about? You want revenge on me for something? Then do it! Shoot me right now.”

  His silence confirmed what Elisa had sensed.

  “Go on!” I shouted. “You weren’t afraid to have your goons ambush me when I was on vacation with my family. What’s wrong? No fun unless innocent people get caught in the crossfire?”

  “Tie her up,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

  “You can’t, can you?” I ranted and struggled, trying to keep the henchman from the zip tie for as long as I could, though I wasn’t really acting anymore. “You can’t kill me, but I can and will kill you, Jean-Baptiste. You’re going to suffer for what you did to my husband. Kids will tell horror stories of what I do to you.”

  “I know,” he said, so softly I almost didn’t hear. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

  I felt suddenly sick to my stomach, guilty and tired and—above all—desperate. The feeling left almost as suddenly as it had come. That wasn’t me. The exatrin must have been wearing off. I strained my senses… and felt a whole lot of nothing. If my telepathy was flickering back to life, it wouldn’t be soon enough to help me. But whose feelings had I sensed? One of the henchmen, or Jean-Baptiste?

  Before I could dwell on the revelation, a shot rang out.

  Chapter 11

  The sound startled a flock of nearby seagulls and sent them flapping into the air. Like a single raindrop preceding a storm, the first shot was followed by a barrage of more. The pair of henchmen snatched their guns, and Jean-Baptiste’s men above us shouted. I smiled. They were taken off guard, their reactions delayed. Eddy and Irma were charging to the rescue, and thanks to Elisa, they knew exactly where to shoot.

  Time to get out of here. I slammed my elbow into the closest henchman’s gut and twisted his wrist, ripping the gun from his hand. The henchman closer to Jean-Baptiste saw me and shifted his aim in my direction. Frantic, I drove my foot into the closest henchman’s knee and grabbed his sleeve. With a heave, I pulled him in front of me just in time to catch the bullet.

  He made a choked sound that I ignored. Aiming over his shoulder as he collapsed, I squeezed the trigger. My shot hit the other henchman in the arm before he could fire again, and he dropped his gun and screamed in pain.

  Two down.

  I spun to face the stands. Halfway up, Eddy was taking cover at the entrance I’d come in through, the concrete tunnel shielding him from bullets.

  He’d been hit.

  The air left my lungs. His trousers were stained with blood on his right thigh, and he leaned against the wall like he was going to collapse.

  Of the four men posted in the nosebleed section, only one was still standing. Eddy had taken them all out in less than a minute, but he’d paid the price. I aimed at the last man before cursing and lowering the gun. It was n
o good. This tiny pistol didn’t have that kind of range. I had to get up there and help him.

  But before I could move, the fourth man paused to reload. Eddy leaned around the wall, aimed, and squeezed the trigger of his automatic.

  The pops echoed throughout the wide space, and the fourth man collapsed. Nice shot, old man, I thought. But just as I sighed, a bullet slammed into the graffitied concrete at my feet.

  The announcer’s box. I looked up to see the pair of henchmen inside had me in their sights. I fired back, not expecting to hit them but just wanting to disrupt their aim before they could shoot again. Behind them, Irma raced stealthily down the catwalk. Once she reached the box, she’d knife them before they could blink.

  She wasn’t going to make it in time.

  I swallowed as the cold reality hit me. Then I fired my last bullet, and the men emerged to take aim. They had rifles, not a pathetic little pistol like me. And I had nowhere to hide. The rotting wooden chairs wouldn’t stop a bullet, even if I could reach them in time.

  I dashed for Jean-Baptiste. His men wouldn’t risk hitting him. If I could get close—

  The henchman I’d shot in the arm wasn’t down for the count. He’d grabbed Jean-Baptiste and was rushing him away. I ran after them but wouldn’t make it. A bullet whizzed by me and struck the railing.

  The railing. I grabbed the iron bar and vaulted myself over.

  I dropped five feet, feeling like my stomach hadn’t come with me, and landed on my feet with a splash. The water was only an inch or two deep, smelling of brine and fish. More bullets flew overhead, and ducking, I moved closer to the wall for cover. As long as I stayed low, they shouldn’t be able to see me at this angle, much less hit me.

  Breathing heavily, I crouched there with the barnacles. The bangs kept going off like a fireworks show, and I looked down the length of the stadium’s base. How long would it take me to loop back around to the entrance? As competent as they were, I didn’t like leaving Eddy and Irma alone, especially when one of them was hurt.

  The gunshots stopped, leaving a silence that gave no clue as to the victor. I waited, listening. Hearing only the water as it lapped against the wall, I experimentally stretched out my telepathic senses again. An emptiness that was becoming frustratingly familiar met me, and I pushed harder. Everything was quiet. Bits of sea foam brushed against my boots, and an empty soda bottle bobbed atop the water as I concentrated. Was my telepathy really coming back, or had I just imagined it earlier?

  Agony flared in my leg, and a mental storm of swear words filled my mind. I clutched my thigh and hissed, but then my grimace turned to a smile. Eddy. He was alive, and I could sense him.

  The thoughts and pain vanished as quickly as they had come. Evidently, the exatrin hadn’t quite worn off yet, and my powers were cutting in and out.

  “Valentina?!” Irma’s voice echoed through the stadium. “Val! Are you all right?”

  “Fine!” I shouted back. “Are we clear?”

  “We got them all!”

  “Then grab Eddy, and I’ll meet you out front!”

  We needed to leave before the cops showed up, and the sooner we got Eddy to a doctor, the better. I hurried through the water, reaching the end of the stadium and the beginning of the chain-link fence that surrounded it. Cutting through the trees, I pulled out my phone to call Elisa. Rosa must have made it out of the stadium, or Eddy and Irma wouldn’t have attacked, but I had no confirmation she’d made it to the van, or if Elisa was driving away like she was supposed to. If Jean-Baptiste had any more surprises up his sleeve…

  I had a missed call.

  From Bianca.

  I called her back instantly, the butterflies in my stomach feeling more like bullets ricocheting off the walls. Had Dave woken up? Had he taken a turn for the worse? As the phone rang and rang, my lungs compressed like a paper bag someone had crumpled up. When it went to voicemail, I wanted to scream but left a terse message to call me back. What the hell was Bianca doing that she hadn’t answered?

  Hang on. She’d left me a voicemail, too. I clicked on it, jittery as I waited for my phone to connect.

  “Hey, sis. It’s me.” The audio quality wasn’t great, her voice sounding far from the speaker. “We’re kinda under attack here. What’s the Prophet King’s bodyguard’s name again? Charcoal or something? You know who I’m talking about, right? That chick with the black armor on her skin. Anyway, she showed up with a few goons, and I’m holding them off, but if you could get over here and give me some backup, that’d be great. Thanks, bye.”

  The message ended with a click, the system’s automatic voice telling me which buttons to press to save or delete it. I barely heard it. I stood there for a second, perfectly still as if I didn’t want to set off a security system’s motion sensors. Then I ran as fast as I could. Crashing through the bushes and trees, I sprinted for the street.

  Damn, damn, damn. This whole thing with Rosa had been a distraction while Ember went for Dave. Jean-Baptiste had been a step ahead of me the whole time.

  I burst out of the trees onto the sidewalk and felt a stab of foreign panic.

  Who’s chasing her? I thought we got them all.

  Irma’s voice in my head. I wished the exatrin in my system would make up its mind already. She stood in front of the chain-link fence, supporting a leaning Eddy, who was well enough to still have his gun drawn and ready.

  “Bianca called,” I said in a breathless voice. “Ember’s at the hospital. She’s after Dave.”

  Irma swore. Letting go of Eddy, she fished the car keys out of her pocket and tossed them to me. “It’s parked on the corner. Go.”

  “But…” I glanced at Eddy and the growing bloodstain on his trousers.

  “I’m not gonna bleed out in the next five minutes.” He made a shooing motion with the hand holding the gun. “Get moving.”

  “I’ll steal a car and take him to Quevedo,” Irma said. “Don’t worry about us. Just go.”

  I nodded and dashed down the street. Bianca’s voice message had already been a few minutes old when I’d first heard it. How much longer could she hold off Ember? Was she even still alive? Was Dave?

  I jumped into the car and turned on the ignition. As I sped down the street, I couldn’t shake the cold dread that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

  What if I was already too late?

  • • •

  Twenty years ago, I’d woken up in the hospital completely disoriented. I remember staring up at the ugly popcorn ceiling, my mind a haze, and trying to remember what hotel I’d crashed at and how much I must have drunk. I didn’t even sense the pain at first, but once I noticed it, it was like opening floodgates, and I gasped.

  “Val? Oh, Val, thank God you’re awake.”

  I tilted my head up with a herculean effort and saw all my sisters in the room. Sonia had been the one who’d spoken. She shot up from her seat at my bedside, the magazine she’d been reading dropping to the floor with a flutter of pages. Mary sat beside her, looking small and staring at me with wide eyes.

  “You okay, sis?”

  Bianca. Where was Bianca? I turned my head and found her on my right side, realizing with a jolt that I couldn’t open my right eye. I reached up, my hand awkwardly slow and heavy, and felt something rough and foreign over my eye. Groping around, I realized it covered half my face.

  “Wha—” My mouth felt dry, my tongue limp and sluggish.

  “They’re bandages,” Sonia said. “The doctors said they need to stay on for now, so don’t even think about ripping them off.”

  Bandages? Why the hell did I need bandages?

  “What happened?” I rasped.

  Sonia and Bianca exchanged a worried look over my bed.

  “You don’t remember?” Bianca asked.

  “I…” The dark roller rink and attempted betrayal all came rushing back. “Electric Jane,” I snarled, lunging up. “I’m going to kill her!”

  “Whoa there!” Bianca held out her hands to stop me. />
  “You’re in serious condition! If you don’t like back down, the only person you’ll kill is yourself.”

  Despite her supposed concern, Sonia didn’t hesitate to shove me roughly back down onto the bed. Dizzy and weak, I couldn’t stop her.

  “Jane will still be around for you to kill in a few days,” Bianca said in a comforting tone. “I’ll send the boys to track her down. You just rest and get better.”

  “I’ll feel a lot better once my boot has broken her jaw,” I grumbled.

  “Well, you’re just going to have to wait,” Sonia said primly.

  Sighing, I sagged into the pillow, gazing at the two of them standing above me on either side of the bed. Though both supervillains, they were opposites in pretty much every other way. Bianca had a punk look back then with green-dyed hair and torn jeans, while Sonia wore a preppy sweater and plaid skirt. If they were both determined to keep me in bed, I couldn’t fight them. More tellingly, if the rebellious Bianca was going along with our uptight, buzz-kill of a middle sister, then something must be very wrong.

  “How bad is it?” I asked in a low voice.

  They shared another silent look. Were they talking telepathically?

  “Bad,” Bianca said.

  My stomach dipped and squirmed. My mind spiraled out, imagining a dozen gruesome scenarios at once, until I slammed on my mental brakes. Later. I would deal with all the horrible consequences later, when Sonia and Bianca weren’t around to give me pitying looks and it wouldn’t upset little Mary.

  “Right,” I said in a light tone. “So, what’s there to eat around here?”

  My sisters stayed until visiting hours were over and did their best to keep a cheerful atmosphere going. We taught Mary how to play blackjack and mocked an awful old movie about the Crimson Phoenix that played on the small TV. When the nurses kicked them out in the evening, they promised to come back the next day, and I thanked them with my best fake smile.