by Nancy Holder
“Liar.” Angelo nodded at Lizzani. The horrible electric zap of the device was lost beneath Vincent’s screams of pain. He slumped forward, his head bowing.
“Wait!” Cat said. “Just wait! I can tell you what happened.”
“I know what happened!” Angelo said.
“How?” Cat asked.
Angelo pointed to Lizzani, who sneered at Cat. Then Lizzani grabbed Vincent by his hair and yanked back his head. He was enjoying the torture, the power to cause pain. Try though it might, the New York Police Academy couldn’t screen out all the bad elements—the misfits and miscreants who were drawn to the job not to protect and serve, but to bully and torment. Men and women with rage issues, wounds from childhood that had never healed, only festered through the years. People like Sam Landon who would never stop hating and hurting no matter what vengeance they wreaked. They had holes in their souls that would never be filled.
Angelo, for the love of God, do not be a person like that, she begged. If he was, he would not only kill Vincent, but take pleasure in giving him a slow, agonizing death. Vincent was drooping forward, prevented from falling onto his face by the chains around his wrists and neck.
“My father the big shot. He thinks he’s the only one in our family who owns people. I’m not even old enough to drink and I got people all over this town. Police department, fire, mayor’s office… You know who caused that blackout? My guy.” He snickered, and he seemed younger than his years. He was like a spoiled kid who was bragging about what he had gotten away with. Like a petty little shoplifter or a minor buying beer with a fake ID.
Pieces of the puzzle were still missing. Cat had to put them together so that she could find a way to talk to Angelo, get through to him. Had Angelo and Tori been boyfriend and girlfriend, the Romeo and Juliet of two warring mob families? Had Vincent unknowingly taken Tori away from Angelo? But no, Vincent had told Cat that Tori had been locked away in her family penthouse, like a princess in a castle made of spun sugar. Angelo obviously knew a few things—that Vincent was a beast, and that Tori’s death had some connection to him—but Cat didn’t know how much she should say.
“I know that Windsor was a bastard, and Tori was terrified of him. I know that he—” Angelo indicated Vincent with a wave of his hand “—was sent in by rivals of Windsor’s to assassinate him. But he failed and he kidnapped Tori to use as bait. And he—he…” He seemed to go blank, as if he had just suffered a horrible shock. “…she was so lonely, and there he was, rescuing her like some prince charming. But he had a secret. He was a monster.”
Cat opened her mouth to speak, but forced herself to stay silent. She gazed at him steadily, willing him to keep talking. They would find out what he believed Tori’s story to be. And, hopefully, correct the parts he had misinterpreted.
“So to protect this monster, she told me she couldn’t see me any more. She chose him over me.” A heavy sob made his body convulse. “She loved him more than me!”
Wordless, she waited for his grief to submerge again, to be overtaken by his fury. She didn’t have long to wait. He strode over to Vincent and kicked him in the jaw. Vincent’s head snapped back and blood poured from his nose.
Cat balled her fists and lost her breath. She fought wildly for composure.
Angelo loomed over Vincent, glaring down at him. “I wanted to know more about you. I saw pictures of you and her, together, all over town. She was in love with you. She looked so happy. I couldn’t believe that I was that easy to forget.
“Then I found out that you’re some… some mutant. I saw you change. And I had to get her away from you. I went to the houseboat but she wasn’t there. Then Lizzani saw her near a hundred and thirty-ninth. She disappeared, and he couldn’t find her.”
She was going to the dungeon, Cat thought, her stomach twisting. That was the day she saved J.T.
That was the day she died.
Vincent’s head rose slowly. Blood was dripping from his chin. His eyes were glowing, his muscles bunching. He had fully beasted out and he was growling at Angelo.
Not now, Cat pleaded. It was as if even the mention of Tori’s name called to his beast side. Through no fault of her own, Tori had been born a beast, and her nature brought out Vincent’s beast side—with tragic consequences.
“Next thing we know, she was brought into the ER. Dead. The ambulance records indicated that someone had called nine-one-one and she was found carefully wrapped in a blanket in an alley close to where Lizzani had been looking for her. An old lady just happened to see the man who lay her in that alley. Him.” He pointed at Vincent.
“No,” Cat said. “Let me talk to you, Angelo. Let me tell you what it was like.” She glanced at Lizzani. “Alone.”
“We’ve got no secrets,” Angelo said. Lizzani’s answering smile was calculating and cold. Angelo didn’t see the greed of a man who could be bought… and who would easily resell himself to a higher bidder. He used men more powerful than he by allowing them to use him first.
“Please,” Cat said. “This is about Tori. The truth about her and what happened. It’s… for you only.”
Speak to his heart. To his pain, she told herself. He’s lost someone he loves and he has no one else.
“Paul, cuff her,” Angelo said.
Paul approached gingerly with a pair of handcuffs. Cat assessed the situation. Angelo had tortured Vincent, was threatening to kill her. If she fought, Vincent might attack. They might get out of here alive. But she sensed there was a spark of humanity left in Angelo. If she could just reach him…
Go ahead, say it, a voice inside her whispered. You’re not certain that if Vincent beasts out, he’ ll spare you.
Without looking at her, Paul closed the cuffs around her wrists.
“Go outside. I’m going to talk to her,” Angelo said.
The pressure of the gun lessened, then vanished. Lizzani came over and yanked hard on the handcuffs. The edges dug into her wrists and she grunted. Then he and Paul walked toward the door, shoes ringing on the stones. Beast-Vincent tracked them the way a cat tracks a mouse.
They went through the door and shut it.
“Make sure they’re not listening,” Cat told Angelo. He complied. His commanding demeanor as ringleader was slipping a little. He looked tired, as if the energy he had expended executing his plan and collecting his pound of flesh from Vincent had exhausted him. He made a point of picking up the cattle prod and aiming it at Vincent as he skirted around him and walked toward Cat. When Angelo drew closer to her, she saw that he was sweating and his skin was pasty.
Beast-Vincent was sniffing the air.
Angelo needs to take his insulin, she thought with a shock.
“Talk fast or you’ll be the one who will get this,” Angelo threatened her.
“Tori’s father was like Vincent,” she began. “He chose to become that way. A beast. But Vincent didn’t. He was a soldier in the army and they injected him with chemicals that changed his DNA. He was a victim.”
She took a deep breath.
“And so was Tori.”
“A murder victim,” Angelo said, his anger building again.
“A beast,” Cat said. “Tori was born a beast, because of the choice her father had already made.”
Angelo’s went stark white. The cattle prod dipped as if it weighed too much for him to hold. Then he scowled at Cat and aimed the prod at her.
“Nice try.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” Cat insisted.
“She told me to stay away,” Angelo said. “For my own good. She was trying to protect me. From him.”
“She was trying to protect you from herself,” Cat said gently. “Because she loved you. She cared about you. She didn’t know how to control it.”
Angelo swayed. The cattle prod dipped again. He wiped his forehead. “She—she was not like him. She was not like him. A—a…” He whirled around. “Look at him! Look!”
Vincent lunged at him but somehow managed not to roar. His chains brough
t him up short and he howled in fury.
“Listen to me, Angelo,” Cat pleaded. “There was a man who knew about beasts. He was trying to create a beast that he could control, and send out to murder the people he blamed for the death of his son. To do that, he needed the blood from a beast. He held someone that Vincent cares about hostage, expecting him to save him. But Tori found out and got there first. So he took her blood.
“It was a terrible tragedy and it shouldn’t have happened, but Vincent didn’t cause it. She went to the dungeon on her own, to try to save someone’s life. That was the Tori you knew and loved. Someone who would take risks for someone she loved. Like she did with you.”
“Don’t you try that on me!” he bellowed. “Don’t you dare! We were fine. Tori and me. She was all I had. My life… all my life, people have been afraid to be my friends! Except for her.”
“And… and she was your first love?” Cat said.
“She was my half-sister!” he screamed at her. “My only decent family. My father slept with her mother!”
Cat gaped at him. “But then how… did Windsor know?”
“They broke up for a while. Separated. Windsor was such a bastard. My dad moved her to Sicily and she had… me. And he made her give me up. To him.” His lip curled. “You never keep anything my father wanted. In exchange, he never told Windsor. Tori’s father would have killed my mother if he knew.”
“Angelo,” Cat said, “I—I…” She didn’t know what to say.
“Our fathers were monsters. We were both so lonely until we finally met. She brought me a guitar. My first guitar.”
“It’s pink with blue flowers,” Cat said. “You hid her picture inside it.” He blinked. “You—you saw it? Did my father see it?”
What does it matter now? Cat thought, but she heard the fear in his voice, and she saw how impossible it had been for him to have a life of his own. Tori was out of harm’s way, but he was not.
“Your father didn’t see it,” she assured him.
“And you took her away from me!” he shouted at Vincent. “I begged her.” He let out a sob. “Then I saw her in the newspapers with him. Everywhere.”
“She had discovered that she was a beast,” Vincent said groggily. Each word was an effort. “Her father nearly killed her. I saved her. And together, our beast senses were heightened. She kept going out of control.”
Vincent lifted his head and gazed up at Angelo. “It’s like Catherine told you. She cut herself off from you to protect you. Because she loved you.”
“Shut up!” Angelo screamed. He pressed the cattle prod against Vincent’s forehead but did not turn it on. For Cat, the world stopped spinning. All she saw was the prod, and Vincent’s eyes as he gazed unflinchingly up at Angelo.
Vincent said, “Tori died saving my friend’s life.”
Cat shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she saw tears running down Vincent’s cheeks.
“Fake tears,” Angelo sneered, but his voice was shaky. “She wasn’t even cold in her grave before you went back to her.”
“That’s not true,” Cat said. “He mourned her. He grieved for her. He was so afraid that anyone he loved—” her throat closed up and she tried to clear it.“—that anyone he loved would die like she had.”
“She said she had no friends,” Vincent said. “But I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me. I didn’t speak up because things were happening so fast, and then it all fell apart. That day, it was awful.” He shut his eyes. “Angelo, honor what she did. You know how lonely she was growing up. You were all she had, and she never had me. She knew that but she risked her life to save mine anyway.”
“For nothing.”
“For love,” Cat said. Now it was her turn for tears. “Let us go. I swear to you that we’ll never tell anyone that you planned all this. We’ll ‘save’ you and take you home.”
“You’re a cop. Cops lie. My father’s got more dirty cops around him than just Robertson and Gonzales. He’s got enough to populate a small country.” He didn’t sound proud. Despair leaked from every word.
“Then kill me,” Cat said. “But let Vincent go. He didn’t kill Tori. He loved her. Like you did. Tori wouldn’t want you to go down this road. To become a monster. He went out night after night tracking you so he could save you. Risking his life, like you knew he would. You knew he would.”
Angelo looked down. She saw shame in his posture, and that gave her hope.
“Everyone in New York is after him, but he risked everything to find you.”
Angelo’s gaze darted from Vincent to her, and Cat’s heart skipped a beat. If Vincent could snap out of it, blur, he could save them. But his heavy chains made his shoulders droop, and his head was bobbing.
“I thought you would come,” Angelo murmured. “You’re the cop. You’d come and then I’d get a message to him and then I would kill him.”
“But he came here first,” she emphasized. “Without me. To save you.”
He slumped. Vincent smelled the air and looked hard at her. Angelo sobbed and said, “I hate my life. I hate my father. I hate everything. She was the only good part.”
“Angelo, listen. You need to take your insulin.”
He kept crying.
* * *
At the motel, the group left Reynolds’ room and he turned off the light. Then he got down on his hands and knees and said, “Lowan. Come out.”
Gabe complied.
“You’re on our side, right? Will you help us, serve as our eyes and ears back in New York?”
Not in a million years, Gabe thought. He said, “Of course. This is what I want, too.”
He stood there and lied. And because he was so convincing, Reynolds let him go.
* * *
In the hellish torture vault that he had built for Vincent, Angelo DeMarco collapsed.
Still chained to the floor, Vincent said, “He’s starting to deteriorate. He has to have insulin.”
There was banging on the door. Both of them looked over at it and Vincent smiled thinly.
“They must be locked out.”
“Lizzani will never let us out of here alive,” Cat said, and Vincent knew that she was right. Now that he was more lucid, he was fairly certain that Lizzani, not Angelo, had been the one who had tortured him. As long as that door held, they were safe. But the longer they remained in this room, the more likely it would be that he, Cat, and Angelo would die.
Vincent pulled at his chains, but he knew that fully human, he couldn’t break free. He told Cat to look for a key anywhere, everywhere. As she searched he smelled the acetone-scent of untreated diabetes.
“No luck,” she said, and he thought, No luck. This kid growing up in a crime family. Not allowed to be with his mother. Losing Tori.
He would have to make some luck for Angelo. And for Cat. And for himself.
“Cat,” he said, “can you pick him up fireman style?”
She cocked her head at him, thinking it through and then she got to her knees, raised Angelo up so that he flopped over her shoulder, and grabbed onto Vincent’s wounded shoulder as she struggled to her feet. Vincent clamped his mouth shut to keep from groaning. He didn’t want her to stop.
She stood before him with Angelo draped over her body.
“Good thing you work out,” he said.
“I know what you want me to do.” She licked her lips. “You want me to use the cattle prod on you until you beast out.”
The banging on the door was louder. Both Lizzani and Paul Dickinson were bellowing to be let in.
“First, I need to tell you something. I lost my temper with J.T. during the blackout when he told me about your father’s escape. I grabbed him around the throat, and I almost choked him.”
She took that in. And then she said, “You won’t hurt me, Vincent.”
“I want to believe that.” I love you so much, he thought. I would rather die here and now than hurt you.
She picked up the cattle prod. She touched it
to his wound.
Rage and fury and power and strength and brutality and hatred and violence and save her save her save her.
* * *
And Lizzani was running after them, shooting wildly, while Paul stumbled through the charnel house screaming, “Save me!”
Catherine said, “Then help me,” and Paul took Angelo from her, carrying him through the corridors while Vincent tore away a door, and then another door. They were out in the fresh snow and as they staggered toward the car the beast quieted. Vincent was human again.
He opened the back door and lifted Angelo from Paul, yelling “Get in!” Then he carefully draped Angelo across the back seat and jumped into the passenger side while Catherine got behind the wheel. She drove forward. Lizzani was off to one side, shooting. One of the bullets hit the car. Startled, Catherine swerved. At the same time, Lizzani jumped into her path—whether on purpose or by accident, they never knew.
She hit him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Angelo was home, safe and sound, insulin injected, and sleeping comfortably. Cat returned Tony DeMarco’s family heirlooms and diamonds.
Vincent and Paul waited in the car. Paul was a mess, and Cat wasn’t sure what to do with him.
Tony DeMarco wanted details. He wanted to shower Cat with gold and make her his “goddess.”
“I’m still in the middle of something,” she told him. “I’ll get back to you, all right?”
He was weeping with joy when she left.
EN ROUTE TO GABE
“All I can figure out is that there’s some kind of device attached to Gabe’s phone, and when you dial his number, you patch into his location,” J.T. said. “He just left a motel called the Fisherman’s Inn.”
“Is my father with him?” Cat asked.
“No idea,” J.T. said.
Then Tess was on the line. “Are you sure you’re up for this? I can get on the road—”
“We’re on it,” Vincent said into the speakerphone. “We’re not turning back now.”
EN ROUTE TO NEW YORK
Gabe was on a hill, heading downward into a valley, when he saw a pair of headlights. He tensed, figuring his incredible string of good luck was about to run out. He was afraid that someone was coming for him. That they had figured out that he had been with Celeste Ellison at the lake house, had escaped, and would live to tell the tale unless they killed him. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely rational—what tale could he tell that anyone would believe?—but he pulled off the road behind a copse of trees.