“I don’t know why you brought me here,” she muttered as Dylan forced her up the stairs of the nearest trailer. “I told you, I can’t do what you want.”
“Of course you can.” Dylan efficiently dealt with the complicated lock before swinging the door open and shoving Angela inside. “It’s all about focus.”
“But . . .” Angela’s protest died on her lips as she tripped over the threshold to discover a small living room that had been scrubbed clean and stripped of most of its furniture except for a table that was nearly hidden beneath a stack of scientific equipment. “Are those mine?” she demanded in shock.
Dylan shoved her forward so she could enter the room and shut the door behind them.
“You’ve convinced yourself you need technology to work your magic, so here it is.”
Angela scowled at the persistent implication she was a fellow freak.
“It’s not magic. And this equipment is only for my personal use. I would have to be in a fully functioning lab to try and complete my research.”
“You’ll do it here.” Removing her gloves, Dylan used a claw to slice through the cuffs that were shutting off the blood supply to Angela’s hands and pushed her toward the table. “And you’ll do it now.”
Managing to stay upright, Angela rubbed her sore wrists and pretended to study the equipment.
You couldn’t argue with a crazy person.
Besides, it gave her the opportunity to covertly survey her surroundings.
To the right was an open kitchen with the standard stove, fridge, and microwave framed by cheap cabinets. There was a window over the sink, but it was too small for her to wriggle through.
To her left a doorway led to the back of the trailer, but the lights were out and it was too dark for her to make out more than a narrow hallway.
Directly opposite her was a pair of windows, covered by hideous paisley curtains. They had potential as an escape route, she decided. Always assuming she could somehow distract her dangerous captor long enough to attempt an escape.
Sensing Dylan’s growing impatience, Angela sucked in a deep breath and turned her head to meet the crimson gaze.
“Fine. I’ll need to start with a blood sample.”
The Sentinel strolled forward, offering Angela a sneer as she reached for one of the unused slides. “Not that I don’t trust you, but I’ll do it.” Using her claw, she poked the end of her finger and smeared the drop of blood on the slide. “Here.”
Angela took the slide and grudgingly headed for the table.
It was ironic, really.
There wasn’t a scientist alive who wouldn’t sell their soul for a glimpse at this rare blood. Some would even be willingly kidnapped (okay, that was an oxymoron) for the privilege.
But Angela would have traded the opportunity in a heartbeat if it meant being safely tucked in Niko’s arms.
Turning on the microscope, she settled on the lone stool in the room and adjusted the settings, unnervingly aware of Dylan’s impatient stare.
On the wall a clock ticked and more distantly a dog barked, but what felt like a threatening silence was wrapping around Angela, making it almost impossible to concentrate.
At last she had to do something, anything to slice through the thick air.
“How did you learn about me?” She glanced up to see a puzzled expression on Dylan’s exotic face. “I mean, none of my work has been published yet.”
“Oh.” Dylan shrugged. “Your professor contacted Calder when it became obvious you were more than just another grad student.”
Angela froze, not certain what part of the explanation bothered her the most.
“Which professor?” she finally managed to croak.
“I think his name was Appold.”
The fact that the woman knew the name of the professor who’d taken Angela under his wing and had become a trusted mentor shook Angela more than she cared to admit.
Could it be true?
God almighty.
Was her growing skill at manipulating cells actually a result of some mutation?
The thought was almost too overwhelming to even contemplate.
Not because she was prejudiced against high-bloods. Or even horrified at the thought of becoming one of them.
It was quite simply impossible to spend twenty-six years of her life believing herself to be one thing, and then in the space of one day being forced to accept she was another.
She was a logical, pedantic type of gal.
She needed time to process the data.
Clearing the lump lodged in her throat, she wiped her damp hands on her jeans.
“Who is Calder?” she asked.
“The Master of Gifts,” Dylan readily explained. “His order is in charge of seeking out high-bloods who either don’t know they’re special or those who are trying to blend in among the norms.”
“And he knows my professor?”
“Yes, he’s one of Calder’s order who keeps his eyes open for high-bloods in this area.”
She briefly wondered why Appold hadn’t told her of his suspicions from the beginning. Had he intended to spring the good news on her along with her diploma?
“Here’s your doctorate, Angela, oh, and by the way, you’re a freak. . . .”
She thrust away the futile thought.
She was more interested in the future. Hey, there was a minuscule chance that she might survive the night. She needed to be prepared.
“Do they force all high-bloods to Valhalla?”
Dylan’s humorless laugh echoed through the empty trailer. “Let’s just say that they strongly encourage people to travel to the mother ship.”
“Why?”
“They need to know if you are going to be a danger to yourself or others.”
“Oh.” Angela slowly nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Fantastic,” her companion mocked. “Now that we’ve shared our little heart-to-heart, will you get to work?”
She heaved a sigh, knowing she’d put off the inevitable for as long as possible.
“Fine, but I’m warning you . . .”
Her words came to a stuttering halt as she glanced into the microscope and actually concentrated on the blood sample.
“Good . . . Lord.”
Dylan moved to stand at her side. “What?”
“I’ve never seen cells like this,” she muttered, distracted in spite of herself. “Fascinating.”
“I don’t want to be fascinating,” Dylan snapped. “I want to be normal.”
Angela lifted her head to watch Dylan’s expression harden with bitter self-hatred.
“You know that none of us are normal?” She tried to squash the woman’s expectations. Every woman wanted to look like Megan Fox, but the reality was that fate was rarely that kind. “There are differences in all of us, some are just greater than others.”
The crimson eyes flared with fury. “I don’t need a lesson in biology, I need a cure.”
“But—”
A claw pressed to her throat, bringing her words to a sharp halt.
“Let me make this simple, scientist,” she snarled in lethally soft tones. “Do it or die.”
Chapter Nine
This wasn’t the first time that Niko had stared death in the face.
Years before he’d fought off a group of morons who were in the process of lynching a young female psychic who’d been trying to make a living as a traveling gypsy.
Another time he was tracking a witch who was convinced she was destined to trigger doomsday and got caught in her lethal spell.
But he’d never teetered so close to the edge.
And certainly he’d never debated whether it would be preferable to battle through the pain so he could live. Or simply slip into the waiting darkness.
It was the image of dark, serious eyes and a lush, feminine mouth that had driven him to madness only hours before that gave him the grim determination to crawl back from the abyss. And, of course, the persistent
sound of his name being shouted in his ear.
Scowling in annoyance, he forced open his heavy lids, not at all surprised to discover his fellow Sentinel crouched beside him with a worried expression.
“Arel?” he managed to croak.
Fierce relief flared through the golden eyes. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”
Pressing a hand to his aching head, Niko struggled to a sitting position. Shit. He was as weak as a kitten.
“Why the hell am I lying on the floor?”
“A good question.” Arel’s gaze was watchful, no doubt assessing whether he needed to call for a healer. “I’m assuming it has something to do with Dylan.”
“Dylan.” The memory of the crimson-eyed bitch who’d tried to crispy-fry him seared through his mind. “She was here.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Arel growled, his fury barely leashed. “What did she do to you?”
Even though his mind was fuzzy, Niko had a vivid recollection of the pain that had halted his heart.
“She shot me with a shockwave.”
Arel frowned. “I thought they’d all been confiscated?” “She claims that she built her own.”
“Of course she did.” Arel curled his lips in disgust. They’d all known Dylan spent her free time tinkering with her inventions. A pity they hadn’t kept a closer eye on just what she was building. “Bitch.”
Slowly gathering his wits, Niko glanced around the empty kitchen, his abused heart slamming against his ribs.
“Angela?”
Arel grimaced. “Gone.”
“Goddammit.”
Niko surged to his feet only to lurch forward as his legs refused to cooperate. Thankfully, Arel was swiftly rising to catch him before he could do a face-plant.
“Before you have a meltdown, I can track them,” Arel hastily assured him.
“I don’t doubt your skill, amigo, but—”
“No, it’s not about skill,” Arel interrupted, making sure that Niko could stand on his own before he stepped back and pulled a phone from his pocket. “Look.”
Niko blinked to clear his bleary gaze, then focused on the road map that was visible on the phone screen. Leaning closer, he noticed the tiny light that was blinking.
GPS.
And if he knew Arel, then the blinking red dot was Dylan.
“You tagged her?” he demanded, afraid to hope.
Arel smiled with grim satisfaction. “I set a trigger on the back porch before I came in. As soon as Dylan opened the door it attached itself to her shoe.”
Niko released a shaky sigh despite the cold chill that inched down his spine at the realization of how easy it would have been for Dylan to disappear with Angela while he was unconscious.
“What if she hadn’t come through the back door?”
“I might have set a few others,” Arel admitted. “You know me. Better safe than sorry.”
“You?” Niko snorted. “Safe?”
Arel gave a casual lift of his shoulder. “Okay, call it overkill.”
Overkill. Yeah. That was definitely more Arel’s style.
“How long have I been out?”
“At least half an hour.”
Niko growled in frustration. Dylan might need Angela alive and relatively unharmed if she was to get what she so desperately wanted, but that was no guarantee of her safety. The female Sentinel was as volatile as she was unstable.
A lethal combination.
“We have to go.”
Arel moved to block his stumbling path toward the door. “Dammit, Niko, you can barely stand.”
Niko glared at his friend. “Don’t even start.”
“Be sensible. I could travel faster without you.”
Niko was shaking his head before Arel finished. “This is an argument you’re not going to win, so give it up.”
“Stubborn bastard.”
Moving like a drunken sailor, Niko sidestepped Arel and continued across the room and out the back door. He’d made it past the pool when Arel caught up with him. Offering Niko a frustrated scowl, the younger Sentinel led him to the garage where he’d hidden his vehicle.
Niko lurched into the garage, giving a lift of his brows at the sight of the large four-wheel drive pickup with massive tires that looked like they should have been on a tank.
“Christ,” he muttered, struggling to lift his foot high enough to reach the running board. “Overcompensating for anything, amigo?”
“I just like power,” Arel said, giving Niko a shove in the ass to get him up and in the passenger seat.
Slamming shut the door, Niko waited for his companion to swing behind the driver’s wheel and start the engine.
“If you say so,” he mocked at the throaty roar that filled the air.
Arel shot him a jaundiced glare, pausing to attach his phone to a mount on the dashboard before backing out of the garage.
“You’re not in any condition to question my manhood.”
“Which is the only reason I’m questioning it now,” Niko confessed, leaning his throbbing head against the seat. “You can’t kick my ass when I’m hurt.”
“Don’t count on it.” With an evil grin, Arel shoved the truck in gear and took off like a bat out of hell. “Hold on.”
“Shit.” Niko braced his hands against the glove compartment, clenching his teeth as the truck swerved around a corner and bounced across a shallow ditch to head straight across an empty field. “Is there something wrong with the road?”
“Shut up,” Arel muttered, his gaze shifting between the dark field and the map on his phone.
Niko bit his tongue, closing his eyes so he could try and concentrate on recuperating his strength. Dylan had clearly gone over the edge. There was no reasoning, no hope of compromise with the female.
This was going to be a fight to the death.
He managed to maintain his silence until Arel rammed through a fence at a hundred miles an hour and nearly sent them into the lake.
No one was more anxious than he was to get to Angela. No one. But he was just beginning to shake off the effects of the shockwave. He couldn’t afford to be injured before he even reached Dylan.
“I could drive,” he rasped.
Arel slowed as they neared the signal still blinking on the GPS.
“Has anyone told you that you have control issues?”
Always.
“Never,” he lied as Arel pulled the truck to a halt just outside a trailer park.
“Dylan’s close,” Arel murmured, his nose wrinkling at the stench of garbage and human misery. “Damn. Why here?”
Niko allowed his gaze to search the heavy shadows that shrouded the park, briefly puzzled by the tug of awareness that flowed through him.
Was this a new trick of Dylan’s?
Then, as the sensation settled deep in his heart, he realized this was no trick.
And it had nothing to do with Dylan.
“Niko?”
Belatedly realizing that Arel was studying him with a worried gaze, Niko returned his attention to their grim surroundings.
“If she intended to have a hostage she would want to be isolated from nosy neighbors.”
“True.” Arel pointed across the narrow parking lot. “There’s her car. Stay here and I’ll find out which trailer she’s in.”
“No need.” Niko nodded toward the trailer set a short distance from the others. “It’s that one.”
Arel turned to frown at him. “How can you be sure?”
Niko pressed a hand to the center of his chest. “I can feel Angela.”
Arel’s golden eyes widened in shock.
On very rare occasions a high-blood could be so deeply connected to another that they formed a bond that could be felt on a physical level.
Niko had always pitied the poor schmucks who allowed themselves to be melded. Why would anyone want to be leashed for their entire lives?
It was . . . abnormal.
Now, he accepted he hadn’t known a damned thing.
This
wasn’t a leash, and it certainly wasn’t abnormal.
It was as perfect and natural as breathing.
Angela completed him.
Yeah, yeah. It was sappy. But that’s exactly how he felt.
“It’s gone that far?” Arel growled, not nearly as pleased as Niko by the unexpected gift.
Niko smiled, shoving open the door of the truck so he could jump out to stand on the dirt path.
“So it would seem.”
Arel cursed, hurriedly moving to stand at Niko’s side. “You still need to stay here while I scout out the best way to stage an attack.”
“There’s no strategy.” His gaze searched the trailer for any hidden traps. “I’ll go in the front door and while Dylan is distracted you’ll go in from the back and rescue Angela.”
In less than a heartbeat Arel was standing directly in front of him, his hands planted on his hips and his expression set in stubborn lines.
“No.”
Niko narrowed his gaze. “I don’t want to pull rank, but I will.”
“You’re no longer in charge of this mission,” Arel reminded him in sharp tones. “I am.”
“I’m taking back command.”
“Goddammit, Niko. You’re not thinking clearly.”
Niko refused to back down. “I’m thinking clearly enough to know I’m going to kill that bitch.”
“How?” Arel snapped. “There’s no way in hell you could survive another hit from her weapon.”
Niko couldn’t deny the blunt truth. It’d been a miracle that his heart had restarted after the first shock. The chance it could endure another blast . . . it was pretty much zero to none.
But it didn’t change a damned thing.
He was going to do whatever it took to get Angela out of that trailer safe and sound.
Whatever it took.
“I’m prepared this time,” he tried to reassure his companion. “She won’t have a chance to shoot me.”
“Niko—”
Growingly anxious to reach Angela, Niko didn’t wait to hear Arel’s arguments. He understood his friend’s concerns. Hell, he even agreed with them.
He was emotionally compromised and physically weakened. But none of that mattered.
Not now.
“Let’s do this thing,” he said, heading directly toward the trailer.
Out of Control Page 9