by J. M. Davies
“It’s no use, Ella, love. Relax. It will be alright. You’ll see. Now, I just want you to sleep. Grab her legs. I don’t want to miss her vein.” The two of them approached her, and Aidan loomed across her with a full syringe. He flicked the top, and the tattoo man gripped her legs to reinforce their hold. A sharp sting dug into her arm, and all sensation left her.
“Ella, it’s pointless trying to fight me. You’ll only make it worse.”
His words were hazy and her body sinking fast. The tiny ounce of energy dissolved into a mushy puddle. The world started to spin and collide, until there was nothing but dark space. No stars, just darkness.
The memory faded, but the terror and hurt stung as fresh as when the needle penetrated her flesh. She clutched her arm where the needle was thrust several hours ago, and there was a dark ugly bruise the size of her fist.
She gasped, “Son of a bitch.”
Why did this keep happening? Why did all the men in her life turn against her? Or die? Would she never learn?
Staring at herself in the mirror, she realized she didn’t know Aidan at all. Her eyes were now bright blue without the contacts and she stared at the label on the hair dye. “Inky Black, hm.”
****
The Ultimate Perk’s crowd was in its last wave of customers desperate for caffeine before closing. It was almost eight o’clock and Marcus pulled awkwardly at his collar. His gaze fixed on each customer as they entered. He wasn’t sure coming here was a good idea, but he just knew that Ella was a creature of habit, and he hoped by some miracle, she was still in the vicinity. God, he’d hated this assignment from day one. Hell, if she was a cold-blooded murderer, she would be long gone. As he pictured the slim and introverted woman, he couldn’t imagine her killing any living thing. But if by some stroke of luck she did turn up, he had no choice. She was his. But then what? Hand her over to his prick of a boss or help her? His hand smoothed the lines on his forehead. What was wrong with him? Marcus shook his head. Absolutely take her in. She was a suspect in a murder and a national security threat, for God’s sake. Although, the vagueness of why she was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list prickled his senses. He strode over to the counter and wiped the top down with a cloth until it shone. He couldn’t wait to be out of New England, with its quaint charm, and get to the bustling city of New York, where it was easy to stay lost.
A soft feminine voice prickled Marcus’s ears, and his back stiffened like granite. Even though she came in most days, no one at the coffee shop except him knew her name. It struck him as odd from the first time he set eyes on her, how she tried to blend in. Her voice was low and she never gave any pleasantries. When she visited the coffee house, her order was the same. And it was always to go. From the beginning, she had been his assignment and that required him to develop a quick rapport. Normally, he wouldn’t have glanced at someone as meek and quiet as Ella twice. However, being his target, each detail about her was engraved on his mind; as he heard her voice now, the hairs along his neck stood up to attention. Marcus turned slowly. This was it: his last chance to redeem himself, and he’d better not mess it up.
When he swiveled around, at first the face that appeared before him made him continue to sift through the last remaining customers for the woman he knew but his gaze snapped back to the figure at the counter, and his hands clenched into balls at his sides. Ella’s normally swept back, long brown hair was cropped bluntly at the shoulders, and now it was a striking ebony. His gaze slowly swept over her from head to toe. It was definitely her voice, but…when she spoke again, his glance wandered to her thick rose-bud lips and up squarely at her heart-shaped face. He gasped and held back a laugh as his heart roared inside his chest, beating furiously with anger at his foolishness. Sweeping his gaze up to her eyes, he blinked. Hers were a startling blue, like sapphires.
A black velour tracksuit clung to the soft curves of her body, and for a moment, he was dumbstruck. A memory of a dream resurfaced and seized him. Since he was a child, dreams plagued him, but he always dismissed them. However, today he was wide awake, and he couldn’t ignore it. A picture of a woman with soft, flowing locks swamped his mind. Her smile stopped his heart, but it was her twinkling blue eyes that were filled with desire that held his breath in his throat. A soft hand caressed his cheek, and an unusual feeling tugged in his chest. Marcus stammered, and exhaled as if winded.
“Ella Masters?” Her name escaped from his lips like a whisper.
She turned a fraction, but kept her gaze low. Marcus knew it was Ella. Her voice sang to him like a siren and she moved in a swaying motion, gently moving her hips. He knew as his eyes drank in the contours of her trim body and long legs it was her. He’d never paid much attention to her shape, because it was always hidden beneath loose-fitted and baggy clothes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Unable to stop staring, he simply tracked her movement like a hunter.
Ella continued to avoid eye contact, leaving her order on the counter and slowly moved away, but Marcus kept his gaze pinned on her. He needed to make his move and soon, before she bolted out the door.
“Ella.”
His voice rose against the din of the coffee machine, and Ella lifted her head to stare directly at him. She tugged at her lower lip with her teeth, a nervous reaction he knew by heart; he watched as she darted for the door. He slammed the mug of cappuccino down on the counter, grabbed his jacket, and moved the customers out of the way to get close to the front just as she reached the exit.
As her hand touched the silver handle, he stood at her back and breathed fast against her neck. Ella didn’t turn around, and instead of pulling her away from the door, Marcus caught hold of her elbow and whispered, “Keep going, Ella, and don’t make a scene. I know who you are.”
There was no response; she simply pulled the door open and he moved along with her outside. Neither spoke until they were farther down the street. His hand tightened around her arm roughly, and he dragged her into a side alley. Marcus towered a good head and shoulders taller than Ella, and he guessed she wasn’t more than a hundred pounds or so in weight. Assessing her features closely, he eased his grip. The alley was a dead end, and there was nowhere for her to run, but he wanted to set up some ground rules before they proceeded. He lifted a finger in front of his mouth as she opened hers to speak, motioning for her silence.
“Ella, you’re not going to say a word. I don’t have time for any games. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before any interview and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning, if you wish. If you decide to answer any questions now, without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Do you understand what I have said to you, Ella Masters? Are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present? Do you hear me?”
Her mouth snapped closed, and she frowned at him.
“If you understand, just nod.”
Ella tried to pull her hand free and struggled fiercely against him. He pulled her five-foot-five frame against his solid chest. Marcus couldn’t risk losing her now. Her blue eyes sparkled like precious gems, and her cheeks flushed a bright crimson.
“Keep still, damn you. Just nod, Ella, or so help me.”
His temper was on a short leash, and God help him, she was yanking it. Ella stopped moving and nodded silently. Marcus sighed and eased his hold again.
“Good. You will not fight me, or I’ll have to use other means to restrain you, and you won’t like it. I work for the FBI, and I’m bringing you in for questioning.”
She moved her head to the side, stunned as she stared at him. Her look penetrated his gaze and he softened his stance as she shook her head, bowing it low as if in defeat. In an odd way, he felt as if he’d let her down and he shifted position to step back slightly.
His gut told him that wasn’t entirely true, but he needed to stick to the mission; it was easier to push any conscience he had away. In the Navy SEALs, he never questioned an order even when frustrated; he’d been completely loyal to his country, his team, and mission. Only now there was no team. He was alone and this mission didn’t make a damn bit of sense. Underneath his shirt, he wore his tattoo of a frog skeleton with a fierce pride but his last tour as a SEAL in Zabul, Afghanistan was brutal and ended badly. He’d lost good men and with them, his sanity—although he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. It was also the biggest reason for zero attachments. The ghosts of his past haunted him at night: his friends and enemies both kept him awake.
Ella stumbled against him, and Marcus grabbed her narrow waist to steady her. Swallowing the rising disquiet toward her, he acknowledged how tiny she really was. It would have been virtually impossible for her to have overpowered the professor and killed him. He stared into her almost violet-blues that were framed with long brown lashes, and the picture of the girl from his dreams flashed again. She didn’t look like Ella, apart from the eyes. Marcus shook his head to dislodge the image but inched instinctively closer. So close that as he breathed, the smell of coconut from her hair teased his nostrils. His gaze wandered downward, entranced and captivated, as her tongue flicked out across her rose-bud lips.
Before reasoning took hold, he stared at her luscious full lips as a need to claim them rose so fierce he couldn’t think for a moment. But she was his target, his acquisition. A murderer! For a moment, he simply studied her innocent wide blue eyes, which were misty pools that drew him in. As if bewitched and even knowing it was wrong, he invaded her space, gripped her hard against his chest and lowered his head to stare into her eyes.
Their gaze locked into each other as the world around them suspended.
The moment Ella watched Nate’s expression change from intolerance and anger to a heated need that flared from watching her lips, she knew her moment had arrived. Ella knew this was her moment of freedom. A kiss was so not happening but as his head lowered, their lips brushed against each other’s and a delicious friction rippled through her. That was unexpected, to say the least. As soon as Nate’s lips touched hers, a trail of fiery sparks erupted from the pit of her tummy right to her toes. Her body trembled in his arms. In all her lives, she had never responded to any man like that. If the mere touch of his lips had this effect on her, what would it be like to have him touch her all over? It was clear this man was a menace in more ways than most—plus, he was far too good-looking for his own good. She never fell for pretty boys. And he had arrested her!
This was utter madness. He was the enemy.
Swiftly refocusing her thoughts onto the task at hand, she lifted her right knee a fraction, and concentrated hard before she rammed it exactly where it would have the greatest effect, impacting sharply in his groin. Nate jerked his head upward, shock written across his face as it twisted in pain. Instantly, Ella threw her right hand upward, pushed his chin and then thrust her left fist into his ribs. Finally, her left leg kicked into his side to knock him sideways. Stunned, Nate didn’t respond but went down to the ground like a felled tree. Ella didn’t look back. She was running for her life.
CHAPTER THREE
Ella ran until her legs threatened to buckle from under her. In the past, Ella knew that making friends or taking lovers was a risk as much for them as her. It was her undoing, countless times, and it was why she avoided relationships like the plague. Men, in particular, couldn’t be trusted. They always let her down. Even though magic enabled her certain skills, like healing a broken bone or fading a bruise, it didn’t seem to stop her making the same mistake over and over in each of her lives. She had allowed Nate into her life and she had fallen for his good looks and schoolboy charm. At six foot plus, with chiseled good looks and rock-hard muscles that made him look more like a male model than a barista, she had considered Nate a friend.
He’d never really flirted but he’d shown her genuine concern and interest; at least, she’d thought so until now. She choked and coughed. The last time they had talked, he’d scolded her for the bruises on her arm, telling her that no woman deserved to be hit. Dumbstruck at his obvious discomfort when she’d mentioned Aidan’s name, a deep-seated anger bubbled and she struggled to explain that the bruises were from self-defense classes with him, nothing more. His eyebrows arched as he shook his head and cursed as he walked away. She should have trusted her instincts that told her he was out of place in that tiny coffee shop.
He was an FBI agent. How could she have been so blind and stupid?
Ella sighed. She always thought his Latin looks would have been more comfortable spread across a glossy magazine than serving chai. But his rich, whiskey voice and easy manner had seduced her into believing him. When his gaze penetrated hers, there was a connection that she knew would be dangerous to explore and therefore she had tried to keep her distance. Shaking her head, she wanted to scream to the gods above for her stupidity. When Nate had held her in his arms, a spark of yearning flickered. Even now, running away for her life, the unsettling tingles still prickled inside. However, she’d been nothing more than a mark to him. She was his assignment. Ella paused in the deserted street, her hands on her hips as she breathed fast but forced her rhythm to slow down.
It seemed laughable to Ella that her effort to remain inconspicuous failed miserably. Everyone knew exactly who she was. Nate had known from the beginning. As he held her, and casually read her her rights, his voice was cold and devoid of any hint of emotion. He was detached. His demands rolled off his tongue without hesitation. The harsh words made her flinch: “I don’t have time to listen to any connived explanation of what happened to the professor.”
His acid tone and words left her in no doubt that he clearly believed she was guilty of murder. Chest heaving and heart banging against her ribs, Ella regained her composure. Running aimlessly would do nothing except get her killed. She bent over, resting her hands on her knees, and lifted her head to study her surroundings. Instantly she recognized where she was. Yards of bright yellow crime-scene tape decorated her front door and house.
What if the police were still around?
She listened carefully, glancing around the area to watch for the slightest clue that someone lay in wait for her. The neighborhood for a Saturday evening was quiet, and to Ella, it appeared more so than normal. Even the noisy dogs next door and the kids’ laughter from down the street were missing. It was eerily quiet. She sucked on her lower lip. If there was another way, she wouldn’t be here. She had no choice; Ella needed her amulet. Watching for any signs of life, she cautiously slid into the neatly trimmed backyard and deftly lifted the plant pot. After she snatched up the spare house key, she walked toward the back door.
Once inside, Ella forced herself to ignore the fact that the house she had lovingly made home, and had felt safe in, was obliterated. As she walked through the war-torn kitchen into the living room, glass crunched under her feet. Ella had painted the whole house white to maximize the feeling of space. Color was added in the accessories that now lay vandalized and in tatters on the floor. Pictures were slashed and ripped apart. The side tables were overturned, and the stuffing from the armchair lay strewn across the floor. Ella gazed around her unrecognizable living room, and she refused to let any tears fall, even when she saw the taped outline of a person marked out on the floor. She should hate Aidan, despise him, but in his own sick way, he’d loved her, even if it was only as a curiosity. Now, he’d paid the ultimate price with his life. This was her fault; she’d let people get close to her and this is what happened when they did. Fragments of last night continued to splinter into her mind. She saw Aidan standing in the living room, holding her at arm’s length to keep her still.
“They’ve told me, they only need a small amount of b
lood, and then they’ll leave us alone. Ella, you have to listen. If you don’t agree, they’ll kill you…I’ve told them I’ll get the sample and bring it to them. Then we’ll be free.”
Ella digested what he said. Was Aidan part of the Elusti or were they coercing him? He looked sincere, which if it was real, then he had no idea who he was dealing with and what they were capable of. They were an ancient, merciless sect that stretched over continents. They believed anything outside of their order was fair game: either you converted to accept their beliefs or you died. Their corrupted thirst for power and greed involved murder of the innocent and destruction of anything in their path. For centuries, they hunted not only her kind but other innocents, slaughtering them in the name of their faith. A wave of nausea swept over her. She wanted to scream. Did he realize what he’d done?
In a reflex action, Ella turned and kicked out, but he was ready. Aidan grabbed her foot and twisted it hard. Flashes of the fight morphed to life and last night burst into her mind with a clear snap of clarity. They had fought each other until bones were broken, mostly hers. He didn’t hold back and neither did she. And now he was gone.
Ella inhaled a deep breath. Aidan had taken her blood, and then drugged her, but what was his plan? Why was she still alive? It didn’t make sense. The Elusti had for centuries hunted her people like savages. This fanatical group dated back to the sixteenth century, and was involved in the witch trials in the United Kingdom, Europe, and later the United States, burning and hanging innocents across the world. Over time, their faces changed but the determination of the cult never altered course. It grew and gained more support, remaining hidden behind their wealthy benefactors and seemingly protected behind one government organization or another. They had decimated the clan of Ariana to the point of extinction as far as she knew.