by Lucy Leroux
Trick swore aloud. They were at the highway split he needed to take to get to Lexington. Gritting his teeth, he shifted gears, cutting a car off to make the lane change in time.
Liam murmured something, but he kept his mouth shut as they sped along. Trick pulled off the highway a few minutes later, gunning the engine until they almost hydroplaned into the lot of the small airfield.
His brother got out of the car first, but he didn’t have Trick’s motivation. He outran Liam, bursting into the nearest hanger ahead of him by several lengths.
He scanned the space. Two jets were parked there when there was room for more. A white-haired couple was preparing a small snub-nosed Cessna.
“Where is it?” he shouted at them.
“Where is what?” The wrinkled woman backed away from him, her eyes wide. He must look like a madman.
“The plane from this spot,” he said, pointing to the empty space. “If it’s the one headed to Florida, I need to stop it from taking off.”
The white-haired man put his arm on his wife’s arm. “I’m sorry, young man. That plane took off ten minutes ago.”
“No!”
Liam stopped him mid-collapse. Patrick’s hands were on his knees as he sucked in hard lungfuls of air.
“We need to follow that plane immediately,” Liam said. “How fast is your plane?”
The man held his hands up, shooing them away. “Sorry, son, we’re about to leave for the Bahamas. It’s our anniversary.”
He and his wife turned and began to walk away. Trick straightened, rushing forward to pull the guy back by his collar. “That plane has my whole life on it. My fiancée has been kidnapped. What will it take for you to fly us after it?” he asked, pointing to a sleek jet at the end of the hanger.
“Uh…” The man exchanged a frown with his wife.
“He’s serious,” Liam said. “We’re waiting for a few FBI agents to join us. How does ten thousand dollars sound as recompense? That would pay for a decent anniversary redo, wouldn’t it?”
The couple glanced at each other, the husband backing away.
“We’re here!” Trick turned to see Jason and Ethan running inside. He turned back to the old couple.
“Twenty thousand.”
Silence.
“Fifty.”
“Oh, well, I suppose we can talk to Harry about changing our flight plan,” the old woman said, poking her husband in his ribs.
“Please do it now.”
The old man shrugged, but he frowned as the two agents joined them. “Our plane can’t seat all of you. Two extra at the most. Plus, we’ll be heavy. That’ll slow us down, and it sounds like you are in a rush.”
“We can unload the luggage,” the wife chimed in.
“Is there another plane and pilot around here?” Jason asked.
“Come with me.” The wife hurried out of the hanger. Jason followed her.
Ethan turned to Liam. “You have to stay behind, too. Find another plane and follow us.”
His brother scowled. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m the one with the gun.”
Liam conceded with bad grace. “We’ll be right behind you,” he said, then pointed at Patrick. “Don’t let this one get his head blown off.”
They unloaded the luggage in record time. The old man frowned as his Burberry luggage hit the deck hard, but he didn’t complain. They were in the air a few minutes later.
Chapter 30
Tahlia distantly registered the sting of the slap across the face. Someone was trying to wake her up, and not gently.
She’d spent the flight trying to bribe Killian, pleading with him not to turn her over to her psycho family. Apparently, that failed. Her last memory was of him coming toward her with a syringe.
Groaning, Tahlia put her hands up to try and block the next blow. Her cousin Dante swore from somewhere above her. “It’s about time you woke up, you bitch.”
“Why did you wake her?” Uncle Lucas snapped. “It’s better if she’s out for the ceremony. Get everything ready. I have something to take care of.”
His heavy footsteps signaled he was leaving. More grumbled conversation between her cousins followed.
It had grown quiet when she finally cracked her eyelids open. Her arms and legs were tied at the wrist and ankles. She was propped up in an armchair in her father’s old office. The desk was gone. So was the carpet. In its place was a pentagram drawn with thick layers of white powder.
Shit.
Her cousin Cain’s face filled her field of view as he knelt in front of her. “You thought you could go off and fucking live happily ever after, didn’t you?”
His smug face twisted into a sneer. “Well, that was never going to happen. It’s not what you were born for. You were fucking bred for one purpose—to serve your family. And no one, not some trumped-up new money hotel owner, or any of your friends, are going to get in the way of that. Dad has fucking cancer for fuck’s sake.”
She blinked. “How is that my fault?” Her voice was a raspy mess.
Somewhere in the background, her cousin Lucas swore. “Stop talking to the sacrifice and get this incense pot ready.”
Tahlia stared at the pentagram, dread pooling in her stomach.
I knew it. She’d denied the truth for so long, she almost convinced herself she didn’t know why her family wanted her.
In reality, the truth had always been there in the back of her mind. It was why she’d been raised the way she had—like a veal. She was never meant to be a real person, one with independent thoughts or feelings. It was why her father hadn’t bothered to have her educated until forced and why he ignored her existence until her stepmother and brother were gone.
According to these psychos, the family’s prosperity was tied to the demon they worshipped. And demons required sacrifices. Live human sacrifices.
Why couldn’t they use a damn goat?
“Was this how my mother died?” Tahlia asked.
She’d always wondered about the woman who’d given birth to her. This was her last chance to learn the truth.
“As if that dirty bitch was good enough for Mammon,” Cain spat. “He requires genuine sacrifice—the eldest child of the firstborn. That’s why your father knocked up a maid. It’s a long-standing family tradition. We know better than to get attached to Mammon’s gift. Everything would have been fucking fine if your baby brother—the real heir—hadn’t died. Unable to have more children, Salvatore turned to you, letting you go off to fucking Harvard for fuck’s sake. So now Mammon’s sacrifice is years late, and it’s your fucking fault.”
Her mind reeled as the sheer perversity penetrated her mind. Her whole body ached, but the deepest wound was to her heart.
You knew that about him, she reminded herself. Her father’s belated pride in her accomplishments came only after he’d lost her brother. He’d turned to her because he had no one else, nothing he could point to with pride.
Her accomplishments in academia had given Salvatore that, but it didn’t seem to matter. She wanted to shrivel up and crawl into a hole.
“Are we even sure this is going to work?” Lucas grumbled. “She’s not pure anymore.”
Ugh. Was it supposed to be a virgin sacrifice?
Wait. That meant she was unsuitable now. Please God, Tahlia prayed, but Cain dashed her hopes.
“That part doesn’t really matter. Pure is in the eye of the beholder. Mammon will take her. At this point, he must be hungry enough.”
Did that mean they thought the demon was going to eat her or…Tahlia wrinkled her nose.
Great. Just perfect. Tahlia pressed her bound wrists against her thighs as the heady incense smoke began to fill the room. The smell of it made her gag even as the room began to spin and her lids grew heavy.
Not again, she thought, recognizing the taint from the time she accidentally walked into Chang’s back room. The incense was laced with opium.
Soon, she was listing to one side, her head lolling as she tried
to fight off the effects of the drug.
Cain picked her up, handling her like a sack of potatoes. He picked his way through the room, careful not to step on any of the lines of the pentagram as he deposited her in the center. Then he let her alone, trusting the drug to do its work.
Chapter 31
Trick ripped his suit jacket off. He balled it up and shoved it under a bush.
The humid Florida air made his shirt stick to his skin, but the sun was finally starting to dip in the sky.
“Are you sure they’re here?” he asked Ethan.
The FBI agent was checking his phone. He was also in his shirt sleeves. “This is where we tracked the car that met the plane.”
Trick rubbed his eyes. “It just seems crazy these people would bring her to their home.” His hand swept out to encompass the expansive lawn of the Palm Beach estate.
They’d snuck over a tall spiked brick garden wall a few minutes ago. No alarm bells sounded, and they hadn’t been met with goons with guns.
Trick was half out of his mind. As soon as he saw the house, he’d started running toward it, but Ethan yanked his collar and dragged him behind a clump of bushes next to a big bald cypress tree.
Ethan scoffed. “You expect sane from these people?”
He had a point. “All right then. What are we waiting for?”
“Back up,” Ethan said, checking the latest message on his phone. “Fuck. We have our warrant, but the local bureau office is only now mobilizing. They’re at least a half hour out.”
That was too long. “We can’t wait.”
He could feel it in his gut. They needed to get to Tahlia now.
“I agree,” Ethan said, surprising him. It must have shown on his face because the agent snorted at him impatiently. “They’re lunatics who worship the devil. We don’t know what they are doing to her.”
Trick flinched, but Ethan just frowned, pointing out a guard patrolling near the house. “Don’t think about it. We go when he rounds the corner.”
He nodded. “Why aren’t there more of them?”
These people were obviously wealthy. They had a private beach for fuck’s sake. He’d expected the place to be crawling with armed guards.
“More guards, more witnesses.” Ethan never pulled his punches. The agent peeked around the tree. “Okay, go now!”
He started running, following the other man as he sprinted to the massive old-world-style mansion. They ran along the left wing of the house, crouching beneath a darkened window.
It was empty. “We should split up,” he said in a low voice as Ethan lifted the sash.
The agent climbed inside. “No way. I only have my service piece. What if you run into someone with a gun?”
“I don’t know how to shoot anyway.” He dropped into the room lightly after Ethan.
It was a salon of some kind. He landed next to a turn-of-the-century fainting couch. Expensive antiques littered the room.
“All the more reason we should stick together.”
“Fine,” he growled, reluctantly letting Ethan take the lead. Together, they prowled the hallway, peeking into room after empty room.
How big was this damn place? He shuddered to think of the twisted childhood Tahlia had under this roof.
They turned the corner, finding themselves in a luxuriously appointed foyer. An imposing mahogany staircase descended from a second story. Twin hallways swept into darkened recesses on either side.
“Which one first?” he asked.
Ethan opened his mouth to answer when a dark-suited man stepped out of the shadowy left hallway. “Sir, I think we have intruders. A motion sensor near the wall was trip—”
The security guard glanced up in time to meet Ethan’s fist with his nose. Unfortunately, the stranger must have been on steroids or something. Physically, he was near Ethan’s build. The sucker punch didn’t take him down.
Ethan and the man grappled. “I got this. Go find Tahlia,” Ethan grunted as he punched the man again.
Trick didn’t need to be told twice. He whirled around. Which hallway?
Damn, I need some of Tahlia’s luck.
Unbidden, an image of him slipping his engagement ring onto Tahlia’s hand flashed through his mind.
Right. Go right.
The locked double doors wouldn’t budge. That was how he knew he’d found the right place. His instincts were screaming. Tahlia needed him.
Trick reared back and kicked with all his might. The door splintered, but the wood was too thick. Focusing, he put everything he had into the rapid strikes. It took three more blows before the door fell open.
He plunged into the room, his eyes watering as a thin acrid smoke hit his face. Inside was a nightmare straight out of a B-level horror movie.
He’d found her, but Tahlia was gagged and bound. She was lying motionless in the middle of a white powdery pentagram surrounded by candles and strange occult symbols. His dramatic entrance interrupted a chant from a robed man at the upper left point of the star.
Putting his hands up, he registered motion from his left. Someone rushed him, hitting him in the middle.
But Trick was ready. He twisted, blocking the guy’s tackle. Years of no-holds-barred wrestling and sparring with his brother honed his reaction time to a sharp-steeled edge.
He followed the block with a lightning-fast punch. It glanced off the guy’s head, but it slowed him down enough for him to get a second shot in. The guy hit the floor, sliding against Trick’s leg.
“Patrick?” Tahlia moaned and turned, rolling on the floor to face him.
Relief flooded through him as her eyes opened, but she couldn’t seem to focus on him. She blinked, her mouth gaping.
He swayed, wanting to run to her. The other man in the room was coming around, being careful to step around the pentagram.
That was when things got weird.
Trick’s vision blurred, and he swayed on his feet. Objects in the room began to glow with an iridescent edge. The second man tackled him while he was distracted by a sparkling blue table.
He hit the floor with a grunt, fighting back with lackluster coordination.
What the fuck was wrong with this room? His limbs were growing heavier, and everything was waving or blinking at him. Trick was a skilled fighter, but he’d never done it while under the influence.
Doesn’t matter. He needed to get it together. Tahlia’s life was at stake.
A fist landed in his gut, nearly incapacitating him. His abs absorbed the shock, but the pain cleared some of the haze in his head. Giving himself a shake, he clamped his hands on the guy’s head, boxing his ears before twisting them.
The man’s scream was deafening. He reared back, giving Trick room to punch him. He followed that with a kick that knocked the second man next into the first. Both groaned as one landed on top of the other.
“Only one can pass,” a new voice said.
Trick blinked, searching for a third assailant, but his head was spinning too fast. He put his hands on his head, trying to steady his vision.
“Patrick.” It was barely a whisper.
Tahlia.
He forgot about everything else. She was there, at his feet. Bound hand and foot, she’d managed to crawl toward him from the center of the pentagram, breaking the circle of white powder surrounding it.
“No!” one of the men screamed, hitting a frequency that made Trick’s ears ring.
Out of nowhere, a roar filled the room. Wincing, he got down on his hands and knees, pulling Tahlia toward him.
More screaming followed. Trick’s head was pounding. His vision was starting to fade in and out, and he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. The only solid thing was Tahlia in his arms. She was counting on him. Unable to pull her behind him, he crawled in front of her to shield her.
“What have you done?” someone shouted.
One of the robed men was shrieking, his mouth fixed wide like a berserker. He was holding a knife.
The double doors bu
rst open. He distantly registered a bang and a thud. Then everything went dark.
“Wake up, princess.”
He opened his eyes to see Ethan standing over him with a bag. Trick examined his surroundings, sitting up slowly when his head swam. He was on a gurney in the back of a van. An ambulance to be more precise.
“Where’s Tahlia? Where am I?”
Ethan leaned against the ambulance door. “You’re in hell house’s driveway,” he answered. “And don’t worry. Tahlia’s fine. She’s in another ambulance. You’ve been out for over an hour. The coroner is here. He’s started picking up the pieces.”
What the hell did that mean? Trick unclipped the belt.
Ethan waved him back down. “The paramedics said you shouldn’t move.”
“Fuck that.” He staggered to his feet, hopping unsteadily.
She was only a few feet away. Tahlia had eschewed the gurney, too. She was sitting on the rear bumper of her ambulance while a paramedic took her vitals.
She turned, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. “What happened?”
He joined her on the bumper, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “That’s what I would like to know.”
They both turned to Ethan. The agent put his hands and his hips. “Basically, everyone’s dead and you’re both recovering from an opium overdose.”
“Shit,” he muttered. It felt as if his head was stuffed with cotton wool and his tongue was dry. I need water.
Ethan gestured back to the house with his thumb. “Those were some seriously crazy fuckers.”
“Were?” Tahlia asked, blinking dazedly. She must have missed his earlier statement.
“Yeah. Both are dead. We’re rounding up the guards. Apparently, all but the head of security had been ordered to keep clear of the house.”
Tahlia’s brow creased. “By both do you mean my cousins Dante and Cain?”
“Um, probably.” Ethan shrugged. “Two guys in their twenties. They didn’t exactly have I.D. on them.” He pursed his lips. “And one of them didn’t have a head…” He turned to Trick. “I don’t suppose you did that?”
Trick stared at him openmouthed. He was speechless.