“Just families, or business as well?” Jett eyed her, his tone sharpening.
Liz’s pulse quickened at his sudden attention, hoping beyond hope he could sort this better than she managed. “Business as well.”
Jett seized the bill from her hands, eyeballing it as if it burned. “I should’ve realized when she urged him to align,” he said, his voice hoarse and low. He let out a groan as he flung the invite to the ground. “We’ve been idiots. It’s been right under our noses the entire time. Danica even hinted at it—the Saudertons are business partners of the Blackmore’s. Their name is at risk so long as Kieran’s not sworn to the Seelie to stand against the hunters.”
Liz barely dared to breathe. “Who is it? Who has him?” The hope in her chest hurt, not daring to believe they stumbled on a lead. That they might have a chance at getting Kieran back.
“A certain owner of Perfect Percolation,” Jett said, shaking his head. “The motives are all clear as day—after Ky dumped her, her status in the social circles took a nose dive, and she’s never gotten over him despite the fact he moved on the second they split. Her family must’ve put her up to it once Tiberius made the decree.”
“The bitch plays a good game, but seems to me the best litmus test with the fae is how they treat humans.” Liz’s blood boiled, and her hand reached to her side for her Beretta on instinct. She was ready to march out and take the coffee shop by force. “After all, she was stone cold to me from the get-go. I wouldn’t doubt for a second she’s capable of those levels of crazy.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Trevor’s voice sharpened like a knife. “Let’s head to her goddamn coffee shop and get Ky back.” The banshee stood from his seat, ready to storm off at a moment’s notice.
Jett shook his head. “We’ve got to play this smart. Retrieve him, and we have no way of pinning this on Jessa apart from the word of four folks who don’t follow the Court and one of the enemy—sorry, Liz. He’ll be in as much danger as before if not more.”
Bile rose in Liz’s throat at the thought of Kieran in the hands of that bitch, Jessa. She hadn’t liked her from the start, and her gut feeling wasn’t due to the woman being Kieran’s ex. The way Jessa regarded him, like a favorite toy or lost possession—Liz saw it back then in her eyes, and the look made her hackles rise on the spot. And with Jessa’s unhinged personality, throw her into a temper and deadly mistakes happened. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
Renn approached, his forehead shining with sweat from the anger he’d been channeling into punching the RV, the ground, and anything he could get his hands on. “What’s your suggestion, Jett?” he asked, to everyone’s surprise. All the aggression spent must’ve granted him the level head Liz and Trevor didn’t have at the moment. Jett, she didn’t worry about—he always stayed cool, no matter the situation.
“She has to be caught on an infraction of Court law—though I guarantee we can find something to pin on her. And all the better if we can verify in front of a witness of worth.” Jett passed Renn a meaningful glance.
He nodded in response. “My cousin’s in the Otherworld. He can catch a slipstream to here in no time.”
“Will he come though?” Jett asked, knowing something Liz was in the dark about. Based on the wrinkle on Trevor’s forehead, he hadn’t a clue either.
Renn shrugged. “Given proper motivation, sure. He’s a stickler for the rules, and I rarely bother him, so he might be inclined to take this seriously.”
“Who the hell is your cousin?” Liz cut in with the burning question she wanted an answer to. If they were going to risk waiting, risk Kieran’s life and sanity on this, it better be for a damned good reason.
“He’s one of the guardians of Tiberius, so I guess pretty high up on the food chain. High up enough to be exempt from this unaligned decree.” Renn didn’t seem impressed, but if he’d played in the sandbox with this guy, she could see why that wouldn’t be a thing. “If anyone could validate a violation on the spot, it’d be that asshole.”
“Go contact him.” Jett shooed Renn off, who rolled his eyes in response as he sauntered toward the front of the RV. Liz’s hand curled around the handle of her Beretta, ready to charge out the door. Jett turned to face her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You guys won’t be sitting idle, Lizzie. Trev and you can go scout Perfect Percolations. Stay out of sight, but check the back entrances and look for any hidden rooms or areas they might keep him. If it’s no dice there, I know where the bitch lives—though a condo on the top floor is a lot more difficult for storage than your own personal business.”
Liz exhaled a shaky breath, letting Jett’s plan sink in. She could hug her best friend right now. He would wait behind with Renn, letting her and Trevor take point duty because he knew how out of their skin they both were while their band leader was held captive. She trusted his level head right now more than her own, because the very idea of Kieran in the succubus’s grasp made her homicidal.
Trevor plunged into their safe, strapping on a pistol, a few knives, and slipping his breaking and entering kit into his pocket. After his experiences in cages, the man learned every tool of escape. Liz packed her arsenal, and with the rage welling inside her, she invited the opportunity to tear the woman apart with her bare hands.
“Go,” Jett urged them. “Make sure he’s safe.” He turned to his phone, dialing a couple of contacts himself and setting his plan into play.
Trevor locked gazes with her, the wordless understanding there. Time to head out.
She took the lead, striding to the front of the RV and exiting past the glass doors.
Renn stood out front in deep concentration with his hands at his temples as if he telepathically connected with someone. Liz didn’t dare disturb, not with so much riding on this operation. She and Trevor kept pace with each other while they strode across the parking lot, heading straight for the station they’d departed from. The banshee buzzed with rage as his gaze blazed, and each step was tight and controlled.
Liz’s own fury grew into a stoked blaze. She’d let it build and build until she got Jessa Sauderton in her sights and unleashed hell.
“She better not have touched a hair on his head.” Trevor’s voice came out a low murmur. Despite the rage, fear burrowed behind it, the fear they both shared for Kieran. After all the time she’d spent keeping the incubus at a distance, now that she’d let him in, she couldn’t imagine her life without the hotheaded, loyal, and stubborn man.
“We’ll wait as long as we can for Jett and Renn, but if it comes down to it, we’re getting Kieran the hell out of there tonight, plan or no.” Liz met Trevor’s gaze, an understanding blossoming between them. Jett had known what he’d been doing in sending them to Kieran, because if anything fouled up on their end, Trevor and Liz wouldn’t hesitate in putting Kieran’s safety first, damn the consequences. And the moment she got Kieran back, she’d burn Perfect Percolation to the ground with Jessa in it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I think you’ve had enough for now.” Jessa’s voice broke through the haze of pain. Kieran’s body ached to begin with, but now he bled from open wounds, so that was awesome. Jessa frowned at the knives, which were covered in his blood. He’d like to say she got creative with them, but the only thing taking wild leaps of fancy were her delusions, because she’d delivered the typical stab and jab routine, with a couple stripes down the arm. Nothing compared to the punishments his folks doled when he’d rebelled.
“Getting tired, Jess? Didn’t realize torture could be so exhausting,” Kieran said, not giving a damn if she started over again. He’d grit his teeth and bear it. “I thought you were trying to tickle me with those things.”
She fixed him with a glare. “The point is to break your spirit, not your body. I’ve got plenty of use for your body, and if you think I’ll be marring that up in any permanent way, you’re wrong. I need you nice and compliant for your formal introduction into the Seelie Court.”
“Great job you’re doin
g there. I’m brimming with energy.” He delivered a taunting grin, despite the way his arms radiated pain from the long stripes down them and aching wounds from where she’d stabbed his chest, avoiding the vitals.
All the while, he shut out the future she kept depicting, because that line of thinking would break him. He’d been a used-up object before like half the girls he slept with, and he didn’t want to return to that. Not after he’d found Liz and experienced the difference the brilliant and real connection between them offered. One taste of her, and he never wanted to quit.
“Don’t worry, we’re just getting started.” Jessa bit on her finger in the coy way that brought men to her bedroom. The sight made him nauseous. “After all, I’ve got a certain hunter girl to target and maim—let’s see how mouthy you are after that. Falling for one of them is pathetic.”
“You think bringing me into the fold will help your family earn Tiberius’s good graces? You’re getting played like a pawn, Jess. You’re no different from how Lars uses Misandra—the insane, expendable one to throw into a hopeless case. You and I both know I’d be a nightmare in the Courts.” He pushed her as far as he could, because the second she stopped paying attention to him, she’d switch her attention to tracking Liz.
“Shut the hell up,” she snapped, her eyes icing over. “You don’t know my family or what we’ve been through.”
Kieran lifted a brow. “Oh, I know them plenty, like I know you’ve always been the shame of the family.” He pushed hard, knowing how much being different from the rest rotted into your bones year after year.
A flush hit her tan skin as her fists tightened around the knife handles she held. “You’re one to talk, Kieran. The Blackmores disowned you, yet you parade around with their last name. Who do you think you’re fooling? Everyone knows your damage.”
“I don’t hide it.” He delivered his response, calmer than he thought possible given the fact he hung from manacles, leaking blood, and aching all over in the basement of a coffee shop.
Knowing what a twisted, broken creature Jessa was gave him an understanding he’d been lacking before. In accepting his past and the damage it caused, he’d given himself the power. The control. Yet this pathetic woman clung to the opinions of Court, living in the delusion they’d some day accept her, psychopathic tendencies and all. That she might have status and position beyond a pawn in her family. The whole thing was laughable and sad.
The second he got out of here, he’d expose Larsen and Jessa to the Court for what they were—pathetic toadies with no backbone. Both groveled after the same power to the point they let those desires own them.
“You’re nothing, Kieran Blackmore,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger. “You’re worth nothing.”
“To the eyes of the Court maybe,” he said, a serenity reaching him despite his position. “But they were never the ones who mattered, anyway.”
Jessa gripped the knife handles so tight her knuckles whitened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and headed for the steps. “We’ll see if you’re saying that after your girl’s gone.” The succubus marched up the steps, determination in those insane eyes as she headed to seal Liz’s fate.
Kieran hoped Jessa let her crazy leak out—because with the way Liz’s hand jumped to her Beretta, she’d shoot the woman down.
He squinted, looking at the window. Dark orange light streamed through, the shadows increasing with the coming nightfall. By now, the band would’ve realized he was missing for sure with a gig lined up later tonight. Kind of hard to perform without your lead singer. The copper stench of his blood flooded the room, mingling with the mildew and packed dirt. Kieran glanced to the manacles around his wrists, which grew bloody and raw from all the chafing on top of the throb of diluted platinum against his skin.
If he got to the knife at his boot, he might be able to try and pick the manacles, or at least he’d plunge the blade into Jessa’s chest the next time she paid a visit. He shifted his weight forward, trying to swing momentum as he lifted his knees. The balanced weight placed an unbearable strain on his wrists to the point he was half a shade sure they would separate at the joint. Kieran gritted his teeth, switching to another tactic.
He dropped his one leg and lifted the one he wanted, tilting his boot closer and closer to his face. Ducking his head, he tried to make a grab for the knife resting at the top. The movement shifted the knife toward him, but once he dropped his leg it would slide right back to the base. Even though his leg burned and his body weakened from the hours of Jessa playing slice and dice on him, he channeled every ounce of energy into holding the limb aloft.
Closer. His hip screamed, and his knee begged to be released, but he inched his foot closer to his face, straining his neck as far as it would go.
Another inch.
His wrists screamed as the manacles scraped against them, the tension increasing as his broken body begged to sag onto the ground. But Kieran wouldn’t give up. He needed to get the hell out of here. Had to keep Liz safe.
He leaned in and snapped his jaw at the hem of his boot. The edge of the butterfly knife clinked against his tooth. Kieran nudged it forward with his tongue until he clamped down, his teeth getting a firm hold on the outside. The second he got it in his grip, he stopped straining, lifting his neck and returning his leg to the ground.
The cool metal of the butterfly knife’s casing pressed against his lips, but he refused to let go of his grip on the thing. If he found a way to get the manacles off, he’d fight his way out. Troublemaker like him, Kieran had plenty of experience picking locks.
He let go of the one side, circling his neck around to swing the knife free. Nudging the end with his tongue, he shifted the placement on his teeth so they gripped the handle, the naked blade pointing to his left. Wincing, he glanced to his left arm where the manacle clapped around the wrist. This next movement would hurt, big time. His fingers grazed the chains, tugging them to test the give—not much. Joy.
Tilting his body to the left, he strained to bring his manacled wrist closer to his head. Though his head could rest against his biceps, trying to reach for the wrists would be a much harder task. Kieran gritted his teeth and tugged his arm toward him, his nerves screaming at the pressure on his raw, damaged skin. He pushed himself up on his tiptoes, but even straining with his neck tilted up, inches separated him from the manacle.
The rustle of footsteps pounded above, the denizens of the coffee shop walking around, unaware Jessa created her own personal torture chamber underneath.
His vision shuddered in front of him, blinking to black and back. He let out a sigh as he sank into place, his muscles screaming from the pain and ready to give. If he didn’t allow a half second break, even if he escaped he’d be useless. Despite the energy high he’d gotten from his night with Liz—and he hadn’t floated so high, ever—the adrenaline crash from Jessa’s hack job at torturing and from being knocked over the head, chained up, and injured took its toll.
Truth be told, he was in shit shape and needed to feed, badly.
A loud scraping noise from outside drew his attention. Kieran’s gaze snapped to the window. Shadows smothered it, snuffing out the paltry light. His heartbeat raced in his chest, a burst of hope flooding through him he couldn’t quite smother. He gave up on his attempts at dragging the manacle down, focusing on the movement by the window.
A small tap came from the window again, followed by a splintering crinkle that echoed through the entire room. The glass fragmented out from the center like a disjointed snowflake, until pieces tumbled inside to hit the floor. A large nail protruded through again, someone guiding it from the outside as they tapped the larger shards surrounding the edges in to fall to the ground as well.
The commotion snared Kieran’s interest at this point. After all—none of Jessa’s cronies would be breaking and entering into her secret lair.
Once the shards were cleared away, a face poked in, though it took a couple of seconds before Kieran could identify any feature
s with the way the shadows clung. His heart raced in his chest at the sight, the familiar long chin, the sharp eyes behind the glint of glasses he sometimes wore, and silver hair he should’ve gotten trimmed a few states back.
Trevor.
Just as quick, the banshee moved out of sight for the other person beside him to duck their head in. He’d recognize her anywhere. The messy brown hair tied into a ponytail, the stubborn jut of her jaw, and the spark of ferocity in her hazel eyes as she locked gazes with him. Kieran’s heart near burst in his chest with relief at the sight of Liz. It had been mere hours since they’d been apart, but those hours were a veritable nightmare.
Except she’d walked right to the gates of the insane woman who wanted her dead. He jerked his head to the side in an ‘out’ motion, hoping she’d catch the hint. However, as fast as their eyes met, she had already set to motion. Her hands gripped the top of the ledge, and she inched her way through, feet first. Next, her legs pushed through, then her hips, until she hung by her outside grip on the window with her arms stretched to full length as she gauged the distance below.
With a foot drop, she let go to thud to the floor. The second she dropped, Trevor inched through the window with the same quickness. Liz didn’t hesitate. Once her sneakers hit the ground, she rocketed toward him. She skidded to a halt in front of him, taking inventory of his wounds. Hell, he wanted to spit out the butterfly knife and kiss her into oblivion, but she couldn’t be caught down here. Not while Jessa hunted for her blood. A click sounded from behind them, but the sound came from Trevor approaching.
Liz plucked the butterfly knife out of his mouth, her eyes glistening in the darkness. The woman would never admit to tears, but he caught the fear and concern shining there, and it filled him with a deep, unreserved affection he’d never experienced before. He cared about his brothers in the band to the point he would kill for them, but Liz had merged her way deeper into his consciousness. She was with his every breath, every thought, and the way she made him feel gave him the strength to endure.
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