by Claire Marta
“Ouch!” He glared at Cayden, who looked unrepentant.
“Hold still,” he hummed. “Ye ken, I am near tae done.”
A metallic clink sounded when the slug dropped on the stainless steel tray.
“I’ll want to keep that,” Tobias told them. “Evidence. The police may never see it, but we’ll have it and dispense justice if it otherwise proves elusive.”
Malik felt a glimmer of satisfaction. Ivan would pay for what he had done, be it by human laws or their own.
Cayden took more time with stitches, not allowing him to move until he was satisfied. By the time he slid off the table, Malik was frantic to find Casey.
“I need to go,” he muttered, heading for the door.
Tobias watched with his muscled arms folded over his chest. “Not before you test your wings.”
Flexing his shoulder and wincing at the discomfort, Malik let his wings emerge from his flesh. Unfurled, the left one hung limply, slightly lower than the other. When he spread them wide, the left refused to open all the way.
Shit.
Disappointment coiled in Malik’s stomach. Without his wings, he was effectively grounded. Useless if he needed to move quickly. It would heal in time but he needed them now.
“I’ll get the SUV,” Tobias told him quietly. “We’ll need something fast but discreet.”
Zac and Aiden were among his brothers standing in the hallway as they made their way towards the front door, worried expressions worn by all and murmurs of support going up as Malik passed. Tobias preceded him, heading at the double-quick for the garage and returning with the SUV.
It had the dark, tinted windows that offered privacy for celebrities and stealth for Phoenixes on the hunt, allowing them to look out but preventing others from looking in.
Iosefa, Zana, and Lukas spotted them from a mile away. Tobias ordered Zana to stand down and sent him back to the Citadel, keeping Lukas near in case Malik experienced any complications. Iosefa and Lukas watched from above. Tobias and Malik watched from below, keeping their vigil while Tobias sat in perfect silence and Malik struggled with his own fear, lifting silent prayers for Casey and possibly their children.
About one in the morning, Ivan was spotted leaving the house.
Without Casey.
But why?
Malik rubbed his chest, trying to loosen the apprehension that gripped it. Going still inside, he reached out to Casey, searching, sensing nothing alarming. It would be one thing if he detected fear. But without just cause, they couldn’t put her mission and possibly her life at risk by storming the place. No, they must be patient, as hard as it was. He refused to put her in jeopardy if there was no need.
Thirty minutes later, a woman arrived, entering the house through a side door. Half an hour more and a stream of police cars came hurtling down the street, red and blue lights flashing. Lukas and Iosefa landed behind them and slipped quietly into the backseat of the SUV.
Malik felt like he’d been kneed in the nuts with dread. “What’s happening?” he asked, his chest tight with anxiety. “We need to see what’s happening.”
When he went to move, Tobias stopped him. “No. We cannot interfere.”
“But Casey…,” Iosefa cut in.
Their leader’s features were tinged with regret. “We will know soon enough. Your female is capable and strong. I know you fear the worst but I sense she has not left this plane of existence.”
His words were of little comfort to either of them.
In tense silence, they remained in their seats, attention glued to the house and the swarming cops. It felt like an eternity had poured slowly past until they saw someone being led out in handcuffs. A blanket had been thrown over the suspect’s head. A few errant red locks managed to escape, peeking out like a beacon, a signal betraying her identity.
Casey.
“Lukas, I need you up. Take to the sky and follow them,” Tobias instructed. “No, Iosefa. You remain with us in the car.”
Malik shared a look with Iosefa. They wanted nothing more than to sweep down and pluck their mate from danger. Authorities or not, seeing her handcuffed and escorted to a vehicle was killing them.
Guilt smothered Malik, making it hard to breathe. They should never have left her alone. Had Ivan tried to harm her? Where was the Russian? The burning need to know had him gripping the edge of his seat. It was the only way to keep from exiting the SUV and fighting his way to her.
“You will think with your heads.” Tobias’s voice was low and commanding. “What drives you at the moment will not benefit Casey Andersson. She needs your strength and understanding. Wisdom, not the foolishness of the heart.”
Iosefa dropped his head against the headrest in the back. “We would risk everything for her. We love her.”
“We do not know what has occurred,” their leader pointed out, setting the car in motion and tailing the procession. “Once we gain an understanding of the events, we can determine our actions. We need facts. Not speculation.”
Tobias was right. They’d only make things worse if they rescued her from custody. Casey would be seen as a fugitive. A wanted woman.
The car she was riding in drove to the hospital.
Malik could barely swallow through the lump in his throat. “Why does she need medical attention?”
Tobias didn’t answer. Iosefa was pale behind his swarthy skin. Malik was barely clinging to his sanity, struggling to not freak out. This could not be happening. If he felt caught in a nightmare with no end in sight, how did Casey feel? She had no one to hold her. No one to comfort her.
He swore, whatever it took, he’d move heaven and earth to bring her back to their arms where she belonged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Casey rattled the handcuff securing her to the hospital bed. The shock of being awakened by a maid’s screams and realizing that she was lying naked in a strange bedroom next to Alexei Popov’s equally naked body had only escalated when the cops had burst into the room, arrested her, and dragged her away.
She knew what it looked like. Finding her with a bullet-riddled corpse and an emptied gun had been damning. She’d been framed. The events of the evening before were hazy, returning in jagged shards. From the lethargy still clinging to her, Casey was certain that she’d been drugged.
Her whole body was sore from the bruises Alexei and Ivan had left when they raped her. She could still smell them on her skin. Feel their hands on her body. Casey felt dirty. Used. Everything around her seemed distorted. She was barely keeping herself together, but breaking down was something she couldn’t afford when her freedom was at stake.
The intake nurse looked down her nose at her over her clipboard, insisting that Casey answer health history questions before she’d listen to anything else.
“Look,” she snarled. “I know my rights. I’m innocent until proven guilty, and right now, my body is a crime scene. I’ve been drugged and raped. Get me a forensic nurse and someone who can order tests to see what the hell was in my drink. Do it,” she said, forcing a softness in her voice that she was far from feeling. “Please.”
The nurse had her finish the admission form and sign it, taking the ink pen with her and leaving Casey alone once more. Her head was spinning, the emotional tornado inside threatening to break her apart. Footsteps sounded in the hall. She watched the door open, expecting to see the ER doctor.
Instead, Detective Enrico Gotti stepped into the room, flashing his badge like this was his jurisdiction, which it was not.
“What the fuck, Gotti?” she snapped, hating that he was seeing her like this, ass hanging out of the hospital gown they’d stuck her in when they’d taken her blanket away.
Gotti tapped his cheek. “A little bird said someone took out Alexei Popov. Revenge for Ben Andersson’s death. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Casey eyed him warily. “Is this official or off the record?” With his mob family connections, it could be either.
“Off,” he ad
mitted. “The scanner went crazy about an hour ago. It took a while to figure who the hell they were talking about and find out where they brought you. Are you okay?” he asked softly, with what seemed to be genuine concern in his eyes.
“I’ve been better,” she answered, dropping her gaze awkwardly. “Look, I know how it looks to the police but you and I know that appearances can be deceiving. And you know me, Gotti. As much as anyone on the force does. If I wanted Popov dead, I sure as hell wouldn’t finish him off and take a nap for an encore. Ivan Michalov took me to his boss’s house for what they said was a birthday party. Popov gave me a flute of champagne. It had to be drugged. I remember him taking me to a secret room in his house, accessed by a book that he pulled in his library. The walls were lined with pornographic photographs that he’d taken. I was nearly out of it by then. I roused from time to time… when they did something to me. Frankly, I think Ivan shared me with his boss and left me as his sacrificial goat after he got rid of him but I can’t prove a fucking thing. There’s got to be evidence, dammit.”
Gotti nodded his head. “I’ll see what I can learn,” he told her. “Maybe make some suggestions if I think things are being overlooked—deliberately or otherwise. For what it’s worth, I believe you.”
Casey straightened, her mind clearing enough to remember a crucial detail. “My clothes,” she said. “I don’t remember seeing them. There’s a long-distance tracker in the heel of my shoe. If Ivan took them, the tracker could prove what time he left Popov’s house. With luck, the ATF can pinpoint if he was still there at whatever time of death the coroner establishes. Can you call my partner, Mendez? Let him know where to start. Ivan’s smart but he’s not as clever as he thinks. He set me up. Drugged me, killed Popov, and left the gun to frame me for Popov’s murder. Anyone seeing the bullet patterns will know that’s not my work.”
Gotti rubbed his chin thoughtfully, keeping silent while she sorted things out in her head.
“There has to be proof—if not of my innocence, of Ivan Michalov’s guilt,” she insisted. “A hole in his story. An alibi that won’t hold. Look, my boss, Mr. Rogers, ordered me to go in alone with no backup. He’s been wanting me to fail. As soon as he hears about tonight, he’ll wash his hands of me. Hopefully, Mendez can act on it before Rogers shuts him down. If that happens, I’m asking you to follow through.”
There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Gotti was sweet on her. Before this, she thought that he only wanted in her pants. But this went beyond just wanting to bed her. He cared about her in a good way. The right way.
She cursed the tears that pricked her eyes and blurred her vision.
A forensic nurse came into the room with a rape kit, breaking the moment. Trained to be compassionate and thorough, she would collect evidence, let her get cleaned up, and give her a change of clothes to wear out of here. “Make sure they bag the blanket as evidence,” she called out to Gotti as he left the room.
A complete forensic exam took hours. Blood was drawn. Photographs were taken. The examination and evidence collection required her to open her legs and let the nurse do her job. Too tense to relax, Casey screwed her eyes tightly shut. Fractured memories rewound through her head, elevating her heart-rate and breathing. She could smell semen and sweat. She knew from interviewing the survivors of sexual assaults that she would experience flashbacks. Shame and loathing melded, solidifying. A tiny voice inside her whispered this was her own fault for going in alone. She’d known what Ivan was like. The danger he posed.
“It’s all right.” A gentle voice broke into her thoughts. “You’re safe now. I can see you’ve been hurt. When we’re done, I’ll give you the name of a counselor to call… when you can,” the nurse added, eyeing the handcuffs.
Casey would only get one call. She had to make it count. The counselor could wait. More important was finding the means to get the hell free. Find someone with enough money to post whatever her bail was set at. It was sure to be high… if the judge allowed it at all. She didn’t know when she’d be arraigned. It might not be for a while. They’d haul her to a holding cell from here and drag her out for her hearing.
Christ.
As much as she hated it, she was going to have to call her godmother. She didn’t want to pull her into this, but Helena was her only hope. She had the connections and funds that Casey was certain to need. Damn Ivan. Damn Popov. Her only consolation was that Ben’s killer was finally dead.
The nurse finished up and left with a sympathetic parting smile.
Casey looked at the stainless steel bracelet and sighed. It was a better match for the gray sweatsuit and sneakers that she’d been given to wear than the red dress that she’d worn last night. She wondered what happened to it… and her heels.
The ones with the tracker in them.
Those heels might just prove her innocence and Ivan’s guilt. Casey clung to that hope like a lifeline, barely paying attention to the two officers who came to collect her when the doctor cut her loose. She was so distracted trying to establish a timeline in her head that they were out the door before she realized they weren’t the same officers who’d taken her there. They looked a lot like them, but these guys were strangers.
Both of them were wearing the wrong kind of shoes.
Christ. She felt like she’d been dropped in a Robert Redford movie, only she wasn’t Faye Dunaway and these men were here for her.
She balked, freezing in her tracks.
One of them drew a gun and pressed it in her side. “You be good girl and come with us. Any trouble and the old lady does not leave hospital.”
The second one pulled out his phone and opened it to a picture of a hospital bracelet with Helena Braxton’s name, date of birth, age, sex, three sets of numbers, and an admit date of December 1.
Yesterday.
When she’d been with Ivan and Popov, her godmother had been in the hospital, possibly fighting for her life.
Fuck fuck fuck.
“Tell me,” she hissed. “What happened?” She needed to know if it was her cancer or a fall or something else.
“Mr. Michalov will tell you what you need to know. For now, you come with us, da?”
Casey clamped her jaw and focused on details. The make, model, and license plate of the car they drove. The badge names and numbers they were wearing. The route they took until they pulled into a deserted alley, duct-taped her mouth, arms, and legs, and stuffed her in the trunk.
They wouldn’t kill her. Not yet, anyway. Ivan wanted her. He alone would be the arbiter of her fate.
The fuckers took her shoes and covered her with a couple of plastic garbage bags, which helped hold in her body heat and kept her from turning blue in the trunk of the car.
It seemed like they drove forever.
Wherever they stopped was rural. The stars were visible in the night sky and there wasn’t another house in sight. At the end of a long, paved drive sat a palatial house with armed guards patrolling the perimeter.
Casey was hauled from the trunk, her numb legs shaking as her sock-clad feet touched the ground. Ivan’s henchman ripped the duct tape from her mouth and cut away the rest. They didn’t give her back her shoes but escorted her inside.
The home was tastefully furnished. Even her artist-mother would approve. Ivan was waiting for her in the living room, his dark, intense gaze locked on her the moment she entered.
“Kiska,” he greeted, rising from his chair. “I am sorry for the way you were brought here but I couldn’t take any chances.”
Casey glared at the Russian with loathing, hatred seething just below the surface. The echo of his hands, mouth, and cock violating her shuddered through her being. Tears burned behind her eyes but she refused to shed them. Instead, she let her anger grow.
“You set me up, you son of a bitch,” she snarled. “You raped me.”
Ivan swept her with a look, his expression unchanging. “You were more than willing. You begged me to fill you with my cum, and I gave you what you wanted.”<
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Casey’s hand moved before she could give it a thought. The slap to his cheek stung her palm. In the next second, pain exploded on her face, head snapping when he backhanded her in return and sent her to the floor.
Tongue darting out, she tasted the blood from the cut that he’d left on her lip.
Grabbing her biceps cruelly, he hauled her up and dragged her over to a side table. “I show you the truth. You're nothing but a slut, kiska. My slut.”
Jabbing a finger, he drew her attention to the photos laid out on the surface. A look of pleasure was frozen on the expression of the woman. Eyes wide, lips parted, Casey stared in a mixture of shock and disgust at her own image.
“You drugged me.” Her anger spiraled, edged with darkness. He couldn’t justify what he’d done to her.
Grasping her jaw forcefully, he tilted her head up to his. “I told you it was inevitable. You were mine from the moment I set eyes on you. You're a fugitive. The evidence weighs heavy against you. In the eyes of everyone, you murdered Alexei Popov for what he did to your brother. Now we will be together. Alexei will never touch you again. Not the other two. No one but me.”
Casey shook herself free. “I’ll never be yours.”
Ivan laughed. “Then your precious godmother dies and the pretty red-headed roommate, too. Deny me, and anyone else you care about will die. I’ve already made examples of your lovers.”
Casey felt her heart stutter painfully. No. No. He couldn't be talking about Malik and Iosefa. Her head shook from side to side in denial but his smirk gave her all the confirmation she needed. Emotions she’d been pretending not to feel welled up. Love that she’d refused to face. Two men had found their way into her heart. Two men that she’d driven away to protect… only to have them die because of her. Something deep inside that was already shattered crumbled further into wreckage. It was her fault. She was toxic to everyone she loved.
Casey closed her eyes in hopelessness. The Russian had the means to see it done and keep his own hands clean. Sit back and pull all the strings.