“Doesn’t that mean you should take off the handcuffs? The cameras will pick them up.”
“The cameras are off. In this elevator and in the parking garage. They’ve been off since you were first escorted into this elevator. Security is watching a prerecorded show without even realizing it. No one will know you haven’t left here of your own free will.”
The words sent a chill running through me from my scalp to my toes, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. No one would know. And, no one would think to contest what Weard told them about me. I had to get out of the parking garage. Or I really would be a dead woman.
When the doors opened, Reubens’ grip on me tightened further as he guided me past my car. We went down and over by one row before his steps slowed and he pulled out keys. He was distracted and his grip loosened. I took my chance.
Yanking free, I ran as fast as I could and screamed for help. But, no one shouted back. No one heard me. And, the cameras were tampered with . . . off essentially. No one was coming. I ran faster, but it was not enough as hands grasped me by the back of my jacket and blouse. My steps faltered and then I was spun to the right and slammed down against the hood of a car. I screamed again as crushing weight came down on my wrists, causing the handcuffs to dig into my skin. Reubens’ breath was hot against my skin as he breathed, “I’ll give you one last chance. Work for Weard.”
“I won’t!”
The pressure against my wrists eased only for Reubens to drag me upright. He spun me around to face him and grabbed my throat forcing me to look into his eyes. His own face contorted with disgust and clear hatred as he spat, “You won’t live to face a court. What happened to Harry Smalls will happen to you, and there will be a note with your body too. Only yours won’t blame anyone except for the society that turned their backs on you. A rogue Spotter. It will be perfect, and force the others to flee to Weard’s waiting arms in an effort to distance themselves from you. The rogue Spotter with an axe to grind against her employers and the world. You seduced innocent men into doing your will, and then you lost control of your scheme. So you took your own life. Tragic.”
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
Lauren
Reubens’ grip on my throat loosened and then tightened again as he played a twisted game. I gasped and squirmed as he started raising me by my throat forcing me to stand on the tips of my toes to avoid choking. I yanked on my wrists, but the cuffs only cut deeper. As abruptly as it started, he suddenly stopped and lowered me back to the ground. He let go and then stroked my cheek with his fingers. “You’re going to be fun to play with in Chicago.”
If I let him get me in his car or on the plane, I would die. I wasn’t ready to die, and I wasn’t going to just let this happen to me. Twisting my head, I snapped at his hand. Reubens let out a blistering string of curses as I dug my teeth into the base of his thumb. I tasted blood before he knocked me down. I landed hard on the handcuffs, shrieking when they bit into my skin, but I didn’t waste any time. I rolled to my side and managed to get my feet under me. Then, I ran back toward my car. I would figure the handcuffs out later, but I had to get away from Reubens.
The blood pounded in my ears as I ran yet I still heard Reubens’ steps behind me. I dodged between two cars and hopped over two cement parking blocks to make it to the correct row. Just as I turned, however, I was slammed to the ground. A cry ripped from me as I landed hard on my right wrist.
A shadow fell across me and I looked up to see Reubens standing there, panting. He rubbed a finger against the tattoos swirling across his scalp and gave a harsh humorless chuckle. “Well, you are certainly tougher than you look, Spotter. But this isn’t going to end the way you want it to, you know.”
He drew a knife and I struggled to get away from him, but couldn’t get my feet under me. Reubens leaned down and grasped my arm. “Stop struggling. It will only make the cuts deeper.” He held the knife in front of my face and tsked. “It’s a real shame. You had such a pretty face.”
The knife brushed against my skin before Reubens suddenly straightened, a scowl appearing as he turned away from me. I followed his gaze, but there was nothing there. When I looked at him again, my eyes widened as I saw Mathias wrap his arms around the other man’s neck and head. Reubens seemed to realize Mathias’ intent before I did as he twisted away keeping Mathias from carrying out his attack. He swung his blade at Mathias’ gut, but Mathias blocked it. He landed a blow on Reubens’ nose crunching the bone once more. Then, he yanked the knife from Reubens’ hand and slashed his leg just above the left knee.
Reubens swung at him, landing a hard enough blow against Mathias’ ribs that he was lifted off the ground. Mathias kicked him in his wounded knee and then he slammed his fists into Reubens’ head knocking the man down. I stared in shock as Mathias yanked a syringe out of his pocket and jabbed it into Reubens’ neck. Reubens’ eyelids fluttered and then he slumped to the ground.
Mathias crouched beside him and dug in his pocket pulling out a key. Before I could react, he had already moved next to me and was unlocking the handcuffs. I gingerly rubbed my bruised and battered wrists. “Did you kill him?”
“No. Just made him look incompetent. Come on.”
“So you can take me to Weard? I don’t think so.” I scrambled to my feet, ignoring his proffered hand. Without waiting to argue with the 10 from Weard, I did what I should have done in the beginning. I ran.
“Lauren!”
I ignored the call as I raced to my car. I reached the driver’s door and yanked on it. Locked. Keys. I needed my keys. I scrambled for my purse, but it wasn’t with me. It and my keys were taken from me this morning when this whole mess began. I had to get out of there though. I had to get away before Mathias decided to—
“Lauren.”
I flinched as Mathias’ accented voice filled my ears. I spun to find him right next to me and in his hands were my keys. I snatched them from him and scrambled to put them in the door when he spoke again. “Reubens put a tracker on your car. It isn’t safe to drive. Get your go bag.”
There was a command in his voice that I couldn’t ignore, and I still heard truth when he warned against the tracker. I unlocked the car and got my bag out of the back. Slamming the door shut, I turned to face Mathias. “Move. I have to get out of here.”
“I know.” He opened the passenger door of his car. “Get in.”
I shook my head taking a small step back. “No way. I trusted you before and it was stupid. I’m not doing it again.”
“Lauren, you can’t go back to your flat. Reubens would have left hunters there, and they will come check on him when he misses the flight time. We need to go now.”
I got in the car, praying I hadn’t made another huge mistake. Mathias got in and soon we were on the interstate. “Where are we going?”
“We’ll stop in Tacoma to grab food and new IDs. As well as a new car. Then, we’ll go to Seattle and grab a train to LA. Move on from there.”
“Why should I trust you?” I demanded. “Clearly, you haven’t been telling the truth about everything.”
“I didn’t betray you to Weard! We were set up, both of us were set up. You know this. You know me.” He glanced at me and added, “We’re both wanted now. Weard won’t stop easily, and the hunters they send won’t care about the innocents who could get in the way. They want you badly enough to send Reubens and turn the chief warden into a sleeper asset. That means they won’t care about innocents being harmed or killed if it means they can get their hands on you. Your best bet is to go underground and since you have limited resources at the moment, we should stick together.”
“Do you even know where to go to get underground?”
Mathias frowned. “We can make our way to Scotland. My people used to have hideaways there that no one outside our kind would know of, not even Weard’s hunters. It should give us enough time to plan our next move from there.” He paused and dug around in his coat before pulling out a slightly crumpled
envelope. “Here. Mrs. Pope wanted you to have this.”
I opened it and my vision blurred. “An open recommendation to future employers. And, a list of good PR firms who won’t ask too many questions.”
“I’m sorry.”
I dried my eyes. “Some choices are made for us. Let’s go.”
* * *
Flight by Numbers
Rogue Spotter
Book Two
Kimberly A. Rogers
Dedication
To Tom Hiddleston for being the perfect inspiration for Mathias
Chapter One
Lauren
“Mathias, look out!”
I braced a hand against the dash as Mathias jerked the steering wheel swerving to avoid the troll lumbering across the motorway. A scream burst past my lips as we clipped the troll’s leg and spun out. I caught a glimpse of the troll’s mottled grey and green hide dusted with white snow and icicles rushing by, chasing two figures. Those idiots woke a hibernating river troll in January?
My own disbelief at the situation vanished as the car crashed into the ditch between the woods and the road. The metallic shriek of something cracking grated on my ears as I was jolted by my seatbelt when the car finally came to a halt haphazardly tilted so the driver’s side was angled higher than the passenger side. My ears were ringing as I looked in the rearview mirror. A bright 8 glowed in the darkness as the troll vanished into the other side of the woods. Of course, trolls were an 8 when angry. At least, it hadn’t turned on us.
“Lauren, down,” came the cool instruction accompanied by the touch of Mathias’ hand against my head.
I got as far down as I was able, and Mathias yanked my scarf over my face just as a rock sailed through the back window spraying glass and letting in the biting cold of January in Scotland. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I heard Mathias’ door open and then a shout from behind the car.
Sitting back up, my breath caught as the cold chill of the night wind smacked into my face. That was cold! The sound of a muffled shout pulled my attention to where Mathias was grappling with a man on the edge of the ditch. Mathias must have been injured in the crash at least a little or he would have taken the guy down already. I reached for the steering wheel as I tried to unbuckle, but the seatbelt snapped hard against my left shoulder keeping me from grabbing the wheel.
I struggled to undo my seatbelt as a second man rammed into Mathias’ back attempting to bring him down in the snowy bank of the ditch. Both men had 7s glowing above their heads as they struggled with Mathias whose blazing 10 never flickered. I hissed under my breath when my left foot bumped against the center console sending a spike of pain through my ankle. The whole reason I was still stuck in our crashed rental car, since I couldn’t brace myself properly to get enough leverage against the pull of gravity.
There was a low roar in the distance. Probably the troll. I really hoped he wasn’t coming back toward us. Something heavy landed on the back of the car and I twisted around to see one of the attackers now lying limp on the trunk, his number flickering from a 7 to a 1. Then, the driver’s side door was yanked open. I looked up as Mathias leaned in, his blue-green eyes concerned, as he asked, “Can you get the belt off?”
“Working on it.” The seatbelt gave away just then, and I was barely able to catch myself with my right foot. It would have been worse if the car had been completely tilted on its side. As I reached for the steering wheel again, Mathias grabbed me by the forearm and heaved me over the console with surprising ease. Of course, being a foot shorter than his six-foot-two and roughly fifty pounds lighter, I wasn’t that much of a burden to my fellow fugitive. He pulled me out of the car, and then kept an arm around my waist as I leaned against him gaining a little shelter from the wind.
“All right?”
“Yeah,” I managed to get out between chattering teeth. Scotland was even colder in winter than I had expected. The wind was absolutely brutal. I shivered wishing my coat were heavier, even as I eyed our totaled vehicle. There was a metal rod resting on the ground and the left front bumper and tire were crumpled under the main frame of the car. It didn’t help that the car was tilted haphazardly with the right front wheel a good foot off the ground. My attention turned to our attackers. The man on the trunk of the car was a solid 1 now. But the other man . . . even half-hidden in the ditch, I could tell that his number was gone. Dead.
I looked up at Mathias who looked calm despite the cold and the fight. His number remained a 10 just as it had from the moment I first saw him. Months ago now, and an entire ocean away. Felt more like a lifetime . . .
“You need to get out of this cold,” Mathias grumbled before he helped me half-hobble, half-hop closer to the trunk of the totaled rental car. He dragged the man off the car and onto the road before he opened the trunk and pulled out our go bags. He shouldered them both, balancing mine on top of his, and then carried them up to the road as well before he came back to help me out of the ditch. “The village isn’t far.”
I glanced at the hunters’ car. “What about that?”
“Neither of them have keys,” he grunted as he shoved the surviving hunter into the back of the car and closed the door. He picked up our bags again, then walked over to me. He peered down at me, and then wrapped my scarf more securely around my neck and ears before pulling the length covering my hair forward a little and tugging my hood up. “Warm enough?”
“I’ll thaw out, I’m sure,” I muttered even as I tried not to think about the cold cutting through my jeans. “H-how far to the village?”
“Maybe a mile. Can you walk?”
I forced myself to nod, afraid to speak again for fear of my teeth chattering so loudly he would hear them. Mathias looped his arm around my waist, pulling me close, as we started walking far too slowly to accommodate my injured foot. I still wasn’t completely certain what I had done. Other than definitely landing wrong when we were surprised by a hunter upon disembarking the transatlantic ship in Southampton and hearing a nasty pop when I did. We had been forced to run anyway, and there had only been time to wrap and ice my ankle. But, it definitely wasn’t any better after five days.
Realizing I was leaning heavily on Mathias, I did my best to straighten and put more weight on my good foot. “S-sorry.”
“Why?”
“Slowing you d-down.” I glanced at him and then added more softly, “Causing all this.”
“It’s not your fault, Lauren.”
But he was wrong. Completely and totally wrong. It was all my fault. When we first crossed paths in Olympia, Washington six months ago, Mathias had been in the employ of Weard Enterprises, the preeminent security company in both paranormal and norm society, and the new security consultant at Halliman’s. The equally prestigious PR firm where I had been hiding with my own unusual and valuable ability.
My name is Lauren Hope . . . and I’m what’s called a Spotter. I spot the people who are or can be threats because I see numbers floating over their heads that indicate their threat potential. The higher the number, the more dangerous the person, and the greater the threat. No other type of paranormal had this ability, and that made it a very dangerous gift to have given the fact that there were just as many people who would love to control me as those who would kill me to keep their deadliness secret. Exploitation or destruction weren’t the kind of choices I wanted to make so I spent my entire life hiding what I am and keeping my head down. Until now.
Mathias has the unusual distinction of being the only paranormal I have ever encountered who rates a 10, a number that makes him one of the most dangerous men in the world. But after getting to know him at work, I grew to trust him and to feel, well, a little more than trust. When I was revealed as a Spotter, Mathias helped me escape Weard’s clutches because it turned out the rumors were true and Weard now hunts innocent paranormals for their unique abilities. I escaped with him out of necessity, not sure if I could believe him or trust my own feelings on the matter, but after spending almost three full mon
ths on the run I knew Mathias was every bit the honorable man I had believed.
We spent most of that time backtracking across the States and laying false trails into Mexico or into Canada. All the while avoiding venturing too close to Weard’s headquarters in Chicago and dodging teams of hunters determined to bring us both in. Around Christmastime, Mathias finally felt confident enough that we had shaken the hunters to leave the country as planned. But instead of taking a plane or airship, we boarded a ship in New York to reach England. And, we still had a ways to go to reach Mathias’ intended hideaway somewhere in Scotland.
I tripped, biting my cheek to keep from crying out when my injured foot connected with the ground, and was jolted from my memories of our less than successful attempts to lose the hunters from Weard. Of course, Mathias was still wrong. It had been my fault that he was forced to go into hiding too. All because he wanted to help me avoid falling into Weard’s clutches. I glanced up at him as he pulled me closer and a shiver completely unrelated to the cold ran through me. We had become very close while at Halliman’s and I had thought . . . had hoped . . .
We only kissed once. The night before our lives fell apart, actually, which some might consider a bad sign. But ever since running, I felt like Mathias was trying to keep me at arms’ length. A rather ironic attempt considering we’ve been posing as a married couple this whole time.
I stumbled again and Mathias caught me before I could touch the ground with my injured foot a second time. A squeak escaped me when Mathias suddenly scooped me into his arms. “What are you doing?”
Rogue Spotter Collection Page 17
