“Yes. But that wouldn’t have been your fault, either.”
“You knew something like that could happen. That’s why you had...a contact watching my house.”
He didn’t answer and I turned around, keeping my back braced against the wall because, damn it, I still needed the support.
He bent over and picked up the phone I’d dropped, his attention on it.
“Answer me.”
He lifted his head. It was Spectre who answered—Spectre. Not Casper. “You didn’t ask a question.”
He held out the phone.
Utterly exhausted, I took it and dialed my brother’s number.
“Hello?”
The sound of his voice, so sharp and ragged and underscored with worry, had me sucking in a hard breath. “Mac.”
“Tia!”
“Hey.”
“Son of...Sweetheart.” His voice gentled instantly. “Sweetheart, listen to me. It’s okay. I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of this. Okay? Help me out. Can you talk or is he listening?”
I didn’t have to look to know where he was. He stood so close, it was like being in front of a freezer on full blast. I had no idea how somebody could radiate heat one moment, then turn arctic the next. “He’s listening, but Mac...I’m not hurt. He hasn’t hurt me. I’m fine, so can you worry about Tommy and Brian O’Holloran for now?”
Mac didn’t answer immediately. Long, interminable seconds ticked by. I counted ten of them before he finally said, “If you can’t get any measure of privacy, let’s try to this. Did you go north? Yes or no.”
“Stop it. I’m not doing this. No word games or shit, Mac” I snapped. I shoved off the wall. Spectre still stood in front of me and didn’t move away so I shoved past him. He backed up and I was relieved he didn’t follow as I stormed over to the double doors that faced out over a panoramic view of staggering mountains. Soaring, stunning peaks and evergreen trees spearing up into the sky as far as the eye could see.
Do not give him any indication of where you are. The echo of Spectre’s warning loomed in the back of my mind and I was tempted to do it just to piss him off, to see if I could infuriate him enough that the ice shattered and Casper came back out.
But I wasn’t going to. Not after what he’d said about Bianca. I wanted to ask about her, and him—but his warning, keep it short, loomed in my mind.
“Word games...” Mac laughed in disbelief. Fury underscored his words when he continued, although his voice remained fairly level. “Maybe you’ve forgotten something here, but you were kidnapped. What the fuck is going on? Where are you? What’s his name? What’s he look like?”
He stood behind me. I could see his outline in the glass and the blast of cold emanating from him pissed me off.
“His name is Casper,” I said, turning to glare at the tall man behind me.
He didn’t blink.
“Casper.” Mac, unaware of my sarcasm, shifted back into cop mode. “Age? Race?”
“This isn’t what you need to be worrying about, Mac,” I said softly.
“The fuck it isn’t, Tia.”
Spectre held out his hand. I stared at it for a long moment, then swallowed. “Mac, listen. I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I’m safe. He hasn’t hurt me and I want you to concentrate on dealing with Brian O’Halloran.”
“I...Tia, what the fuck—”
My nerves stretched to the limit, I shoved the phone into Spectre’s hand and walked away. I heard him talking behind me, and for the first few steps, I even heard Mac’s enraged voice. But I didn’t stop. I just kept going until I stood by the bed. Digging through the tote bag, I looked at the art supplies he’d packed. Taking what I wanted, I also grabbed my fat, fluffy hoodie and paused to shove the metal box of pencil and charcoals into the hoodie’s pouch, then grabbed the sketchbooks. Valkyrie nosed my thigh and I paused to stroke her. Puffs of dog hair followed in the wake and I dragged my hand up again, then smoothed it back down, sending even more doggie fluff flying. It landed on the pristine wooden planks and for some reason, it made me smile. “I need to get you a brush. Still.”
Drained, I hugged her. She rested her doggie head on my shoulder and I hugged her tighter, rocking to calm myself. Tears threatened and I fought them back, but I didn’t know how much longer I could do it. A floorboard creaked and I pulled back from the dog, smoothing the hair from my clothes. Without looking behind me, I grabbed the sketchbooks I’d dropped and headed to the door.
Spectre didn’t move. I glared at him. I needed space. I needed to breathe. I needed something that felt normal to me.
And he stood there, in my way, staring at me, completely unaffected.
“What?” I demanded through clenched teeth.
“He’s telling me that he’s doesn’t give a fuck about the parole board and won’t go if he doesn’t believe you’re safe. Apparently, he needs to speak with you alone in order to believe that.”
I suppressed the urge to scream.
“If I give you the phone, are you going to tell him where you are?”
I had the urge to hit something. I wanted to hit him and reach through the phone and hit my brother. I snatched the phone. “No.”
Spectre shut the door, leaving me alone.
“Go to the fucking parole hearing,” I said into the phone, not waiting for Mac to say anything.
“How am I supposed to concentrate on that when my sister is missing? Where’s the fucker who kidnapped you? Is he in the room?”
“No.” I fisted my hand in Valkyrie’s fur. “I already told you that he hasn’t hurt me. I’m not in danger. Look, my dog even likes him.”
“Your dog.” A rough sigh escaped him. “Tia, sweetie, sometimes, you still make my head hurt, trying to keep up with you. Since when do you have a dog?”
“Since the day after I talked to you about it. Bianca helped me picked her out. She’s a Golden Shepherd and I named her Valkyrie. Now shut up and listen to me. You have to go to the parole hearing. Brian O’Halloran isn’t going to get away with serving a couple of years, Mac. Not after what he did.” My voice hitched as I thought of the picture Leo had showed me. “And that fucker, Tommy, doesn’t get away with trying to fuck this up by using me to get to you. Go to the hearing!”
“And what if something happens to you. How do I live with that?” he asked, his voice ragged. “We’ve only had each other a few years, kid.”
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
“You don’t know that. Some sick fuck grabbed you—”
“He was offered money to kill me, Mac.” Even as pissed as I was as Casper, it pissed me off to hear Mac call him that. “I’m alive because of that sick fuck, okay? He went through a lot of trouble to keep me alive. He’s not out to hurt me...so do your job. Make sure Brian stays in jail.”
“You think Tommy will let it all go after the hearing, sweetheart?” Mac asked.
“No. But we’ll figure that out after.” I didn’t mention the man who probably lurked outside my door. I hadn’t forgotten what he’d told me, but it wouldn’t help my cop brother’s peace of mind to hear that the man who’d kidnapped me was planning to kill the leader of an organized crime group.
Chapter 17
Spectre
That sick fuck.
Her words still echoed in my ears.
I should have walked away—I likely could have trusted her, but trust wasn’t in my makeup and I stood there listening. The words cut deep and left me with an odd ache that left my chest feeling hollow and empty.
Hearing movement behind the door, I strode away, stopping at the end of the balcony with my back to the bedroom. The lower living area sprawled out in front of me and I could see Valkyrie sitting at the base of the steep, ladder-like steps, staring at me, ears pointed forward slightly. Her head cocked to the side, then swiveled to the left as we listened to Tia coming up from behind.
The dog wagged her tail hesitantly as she glanced at Tia, but the wagging stopped and she slid her eyes toward
me.
I clenched my jaw, staring not at the dog, but the open layout of the room below me.
Even as Tia came to a stop, barely visible in the outer edge of my peripheral vision, I didn’t look away.
Conflicting urges burned inside, confusing me. This hollow emptiness in my chest was an uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling, one I’d only experienced twice before—when Sarge had told me he was dying, and one other time, back when I’d still been too young and stupid to understand how cruel life was—the day my father had found that little stray dog and killed it right in front of me.
Logically, I could identify the sensation as emotional pain, but I couldn’t make sense of it and I didn’t have time for it.
I also didn’t have the...ability to figure this out, or even understand why any of this mattered enough to cause me pain.
Despite Sarge’s best efforts, I’d become a monster. Perhaps I wasn’t the mindless weapon my father had been intent on creating, but I killed dispassionately and with no remorse.
“Here.”
I glanced down and saw the phone. Wrapping myself in ice, I faced her. Her gaze held a mutinous look but it faded quickly, her lashes flickering as another expression crept into her gray eyes. Uncertainty.
Taking the phone from her, careful not to touch her, I walked away and went downstairs without saying anything.
She followed me and I sensed her hesitancy. It was uncommon for her to hesitate on anything and that pricked at me, but I pushed the thought aside. I couldn’t afford to worry about it—worry about her.
“Thank you,” she said, the words uncharacteristically soft.
They stopped me dead in my tracks. Standing in the middle of the floor, I turned my head until I saw her out of the corner of my eye. “What?”
She circled around and my gaze lasered in on her, trying to make sense of what I’d heard.
“Thank you, Casper,” she said again. Her tongue slid out, wetting that full, perfect, perfectly fuckable pair of lips, distracting me for a heartbeat. Then she took a deep breath and came closer.
I tensed.
She noticed, but didn’t slow.
Her lips brushed the corner of my mouth and she eased back, still staring at me with that uncertain look.
“What are you thanking me for?”
Her brows knitted together and she cocked her head. “Everything? I mean, it’s kind of obvious that you’ve put yourself out there to save me and I still can’t understand why. I’m only now starting to figure it out, to be honest. And on top of all of that, you went above that and made sure Tommy couldn’t hurt those who matter the most to me. I...I don’t understand why you’re doing any of this. You don’t have to and I...well, I just...” Abruptly, she scowled and glared at me. “Can’t I just say thank you and you be decent and respond with you’re welcome?”
“Sick fucks don’t do decent, Tia.” The comment leaped from me without any real conscious thought behind it. I would have yanked it back in a heartbeat if I could. Humiliation wasn’t an emotion I’d let myself feel in years, but I felt it now, all-consuming and gut-shriveling.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks and her eyes fell away. “I...”
I cut around her and went for the rug in the middle of the wide, sprawling living area. “There’s no need for you to continue speculating about the why,” I said, pulling the rug back to reveal the trap door. Fuck knows, I speculated enough myself. As I dealt with the biometric lock, I continued to speak. “Even among monsters, there are degrees of evil. Some of us even have a sense of morality, skewed though it might be. Tommy O’Halloran, for instance, has no sense of morality. He sees, he wants, he takes, caring nothing for those who are harmed in the process. Those are among some of the things that make him a monster.”
I could feel her staring at me as I lifted the heavy door but I didn’t look at her. Swinging my legs over the edge of the small armory I’d built, I pondered the differences between me and men like O’Halloran.
If it wasn’t for Sarge, would there have been any difference?
I wanted to think so.
Jaw clenched, I thought back to the day when I’d killed my father—I’d hated that fucker so much. But even then, I hadn’t enjoyed it. I’d just wanted him gone. Out of my life. Out of everybody’s lives.
No, I decided. I wouldn’t have been like O’Halloran. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have crossed the lines Sarge helped me find.
Tia still watched me.
I lifted my gaze and stared at her. “Both of us are killers, yes. But he does it for pleasure, for fun, for sport. He doesn’t care who his target is. He could easily kill a child. He’s ordered the deaths of families for those who’ve crossed him, as you well know. And that is where he and I differ.”
“Casper—”
“Stop it.” I couldn’t let myself feel this softness for her, had to eradicate it, destroy it. “That’s not my name.”
Dropping down into the armory, I took a few steps into the room. The motion-activated lights came on and I looked around, taking stock.
“Fine, Spectre.”
Hearing her footsteps on the ladder had me swearing under my breath. “Get out of here.”
“I wasn’t done talking to you,” she said, ignoring my order.
Pivoting to face her, I opened my mouth to snarl at her. If I had to chase her out, terrify her—
The words trapped in my throat.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glinting bright with suppressed emotion and her breasts rose and fell, unrestrained, under the thin material of her tank top.
Fuck, I wanted her. Even knowing what she thought of me, I wanted her. In all my life, I’d never wanted anything, not really. Except maybe not to be what I was—what I’ll always be.
But I wanted her with every fiber of my being but it was more than a physical need, although that was a gut-wrenching thing, one that might end me. I wanted everything about her, from the way she laughed, to the way she spoke to her dog to the solemn way she surveyed everything.
You can’t have her. You’d destroy her.
Harshly, I said, “I don’t give a fuck if you’re done talking to me. I’m done talking to you. Just because I wasn’t inclined to let O’Halloran kill you doesn’t mean I’m inclined to listen to every rant or petty grievance you feel like airing.”
“Rant...” Her mouth dropped open.
But I’d miscalculated if I thought I could infuriate her into backing off or walking away.
“Rant,” she said again in a low voice. “Petty grievance. You kidnapped me. That was after I thought you’d shown up to kill me and my dog. Then I learn you’re there because somebody wanted you to kill me. Then I learn that the bastard behind it is somebody who dismembered a girl who was brave enough and strong enough to get away from him. I’m all but trapped in this situation and I hate it, but I’ve also finally realized you saved my life, possibly saved my brother’s life and you also saved my best friend and protected her. You think me talking about this is a rant? A petty grievance?”
Her stormy gray eyes had grown darker, her full lips drawn so tight they’d all but disappeared as she stared at me.
“What, Spectre? No response?” With a curl of her lip, she gave me a scathing look that took me in from the top of my head to my naked feet. “I guess to a hired killer, a lot of things seem petty. I mean, you hold the power of life and death in your hands. If I piss you off enough, are you going to decide I’m not worth the trouble?”
Tell her yes.
That was the logical answer. If I scared her, if I terrified her, she’d back away and it would protect us both. It would hurt...me. In the end, she’d be better for it, though. It would keep her out of my way, let me focus on the task at hand, so she could go back home to the life she missed.
“Well?” Her sharply pointed chin angled up and she sneered at me, daring me. Challenging me. Taunting me.
Destroying me. Like I’d known she would do.
“Go back upstairs.�
�� Was that really my voice? That harsh, hoarse whisper? Practically broken?
Her lids flickered. Her lashes drooped as she cocked her head to the side, studying me. Speculation drifted across her face, then she moved in closer, lifting her chin even more. She stood so close, I could feel the heat of her skin on mine. “Answer the question first...Casper.”
I shot my arms out and grabbed her. “Go upstairs.”
“What’s the matter?” Her head fell back, eyes staring into mine, the foggy, lambent gray so compelling it could have been some enchanted fog cast by a witch. Her tongue slid out, dampening her lower lip before disappearing. Each breath came in slow, ragged exhalations, as if she had to work hard to fill her lungs. “Can’t you answer that single, simple question?”
Her gaze drifted to my mouth again and my neurons imploded.
Question?
“What question?”
I didn’t realize I’d even asked it out loud.
“I asked if you were going to decide to put me out of my misery if I got too annoying,” she said, hitching up her shoulder, delivering the cold, rational comment like we were discussing whether I’d make soup for dinner.
Discussing her life like it meant next to nothing.
My temper snapped.
Hauling her against me, I grabbed the back of her neck, soft, springy curls meeting my fingers. I spun around, moving on instinct and backing her up until I had her cornered against the wall.
“Don’t you think that’s a fucking dangerous question to ask a man like me?” I put every drop of menace I could into my voice.
Tia let her head fall back against the wall as she gazed into my eyes. “Well, I don’t know yet. You haven’t answered the question. Are you going to get fed up and put me out of my misery...Casper?” She angled her chin. “Come on...my neck’s right there. It can’t be that hard for a man like you to break it. Or maybe you prefer something bloodier. I saw an entire wall of knives. Would you prefer to slit my thr—”
I slammed my mouth down on hers, unable to listen to another word.
She made a noise, caught between satisfaction and dismay as she reached for me. I caught her wrists and pulled them behind her back. Ripping my mouth from hers, I pressed my forehead to hers. “Damn you, Tia.”
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