Invidious Betrayal

by Shea Swain

  Aria glanced over at Ian. She felt that it was her fault he had killed.

  For a moment, she was back in her room, huddled against her nightstand, clutching her injured foot. She saw what Ian had done to the guy he’d called Carlos. He’d moved with precision and skill. It was almost poetic the way he fought, but it was also frightening. And after Carlos had fallen, Ian had swung around and his eyes had focused on her. He’d thought she was afraid and she had been, but not for the reason he may have thought. She was afraid because at that moment, with his and Carlos’ blood dripping from his face, something primitive had been awakened in her and it wanted the beautiful bloodied man who watched her with his stormy eyes.

  Get a grip, she told herself.

  “I have to go to the rest room,” Aria said, as she pushed open the door and stepped out of the car. She needed a minute alone. Ian was out of the car and at her side before she even shut her door. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked her.

  Aria frowned as they looked at each other. He had no idea that he had moved around the car in a blink of an eye. People don’t move like that. Who or what is Ian? She looked into his eyes and again only saw his unanswered question in them. He really hadn’t realized how fast he’d just moved. How was that possible? The images of his fight with Carlos in her bathroom flashed before her eyes again, as she stared into his. He had been fast, but not like he’d moved seconds ago. Ian Howl was not normal, and he was clueless to that fact.

  She turned her head slightly and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Nothing,” Aria said, moving away from him, trying not to limp. As she walked, she thought over what she knew about Ian. He was mouth-wateringly gorgeous to a fault, his kisses were all-consuming, and he was protective of her. With little to no sleep last night, Ian was still alert. Last night they’d stayed in a motel. While she lay in the bed, dozing and waking often through the night due to those awful pain pills, Ian sat up in a chair. He’d kept watch the entire night.

  Ian fought better than anyone she’d ever seen before, like someone in a movie. He moved like a cheetah, was as strong as a bear, and he could kill with his bare hands. All that added up; Ian was gorgeous, dangerous, and something else. All in all that was a wicked combo, and he was right behind her. Aria felt a tingling all over.

  Ian stayed close as she made her way into the bustling building that was the Maryland House service area off of I-95. It was where Ian’s father’s friend, some FBI agent named Kessler, had told them to meet him. She didn’t want to seem paranoid, but she had a bad feeling about being this close to Baltimore.

  Aria left Ian in the hallway as she stepped into the large, multi-stalled bathroom. She quickly used the facilities and washed her hands. She moved around a smiling woman who wiped at a little boy’s face, to get to the sink, and her heart thumped as she unconsciously rubbed her stomach. Aria washed her hands then splashed some of the cool water over her face. She sighed as she glanced at her reflection. She looked tired, and felt even worse.

  Grabbing a few paper towels, she dried her hands before pulling the elastic band out of her hair and re-looping it around her gathered locks, so that her long hair sat messily on the top of her head but mostly contained.

  Ian was still leaning on the wall across from the entrance when she exited the restroom. He looked casual, like he hadn’t a care in the world, but she knew that wasn’t the case. She knew from the way his eyes moved back and forth, searching, that he was completely aware of the entrance doors and all the people that moved through and around them. He pushed off the wall and moved toward her, giving her a look that she equated to a siren’s call, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks when he was a few feet away.

  Aria froze as Ian’s eyes narrowed.

  Ian wasn’t looking at her anymore. He stared at something or someone behind her. His face was still calm, beautifully so, but his eyes were hard, and that sent warning signals through her entire body.

  Before she could ask what was wrong, Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her through one of the doors to the outside. She barely stayed on her feet as he ran, dragging her toward the car. They were just about there when something hard slammed into her from behind. Her hand slipped from Ian’s grip as she fell to the hard cement sidewalk. Aria heard a woman scream as she tried to roll off her stomach, but something heavy held her down.

  Aria tasted the copper tang of blood welling in her mouth, and numbly wondered if she’d lost a tooth or bit her tongue off. Her vision was blurred and her body ached. Cursing, she assumed a car had hit them until a pair of hands grabbed hold of her forehead and chin. The man smelled like leather and he must have been built like a car, she told herself before a blinding pain sliced at her neck and spine as those big hands slowly began to twist her head.

  “Let her go,” Ian ordered. His voice was laced with anger and…and fear…for her. She knew she was going to die and all she wanted in that moment was to see Ian. But all she saw was a shadowy figure in front of her. She wanted to tell Ian that she didn’t hate him, but she couldn’t think as the pressure to break her neck continued to build. She tried to focus as her eyes attempted to put the images in front of her in order.

  Ian! Her heart leapt when she made him out. His chest was directly in front of her, but she couldn’t see anything other than his shirt until against her will her head slowly began to turn. Her heart almost stopped when she realized that Ian was gripping the wrists connected to the hands that held her head and chin. The veins on Ian’s arms were raised as they strained against the other man’s strength.

  “Not a chan—” a gruff voice started to say. His words died out, he inhaled, then began to choke just as the pressure on her head and neck let up.

  Aria felt several rough jerks then she fell to the ground. She heard people yelling. Someone shouted that they were calling 911, then the earth spun. Aria smelled Ian’s alluring scent and instantly her body relaxed. He pulled her close, his heat encasing her, then the heat was gone and she was lowered into what she figured was the car. Through the haze, she saw him turn around and kick the car parked beside theirs. Aria knew she was out of it, hallucinating, because she saw the sedan slide with immense speed about one hundred feet across the lot and slam into a man who was just getting up from the pavement. Ian then got behind the wheel of their borrowed car. He cursed as he jerked the gear into drive.

  They moved forward and over a sidewalk as people continued to yell. Aria got a quick glance at the man that Ian had targeted with the car as he got to his feet then ran—he ran really fast toward a motorcycle parked across the lot. He was huge, like heavyweight-MMA-fighter huge. He wore a fitted gray T-shirt and black jeans and looked about as old as her dad. His hair was cut close like a soldier’s, and his facial features carried a menace that even her father’s didn’t—and her dad was all kinds of ornery.

  The man looked up at them just before leaping out of the way as Ian ran over his hog without flinching. Aria screamed as they then crossed two lanes of opposing traffic, dodging cars and their angry drivers. Skidding sideways over a grassy median, they leveled out on the onramp and blended into highway traffic. Her heart raced as Ian slowed from 125 miles per hour to a steady eighty miles per hour. They drove for a good fifteen minutes before she spoke.

  “Who was that?” She rubbed at her neck as he took an exit she didn’t bother to read.

  “Are you okay?” Ian veered off the road, coming to a sudden stop then took her face in his hands. He stared into her eyes for several seconds as if looking for something. Then he gently moved her head back to examine her neck. Ian’s breathing was calm but his eyes were frantic. When he was satisfied with what he saw he moved his hand over her stomach. “Are you cramping? Do you feel nauseated?”

  “My neck and back hurt a little, but no cramping. Who was that Ian?” she demanded, pushing his hands away.

  “That was Jasper, my mixed martial arts instructor and personal trainer.” He leaned back in his seat and l
ooked out of the window.

  “You have a fight trainer?” she asked, as she rubbed under her chin. “Of course you do. What kid doesn’t have their very own mixed martial arts master to teach them to kill?” she said sarcastically.

  Ian ignored her comment. He eased the car back onto the road, easily integrating them back into traffic. “Your foot?” he asked.

  “Is sore, but fine,” she clipped. Aria popped a pain pill and took a sip of the watered-down cola sitting in the cup holder. Ian didn’t say anything else, so Aria decided that maybe not talking was what they both needed. Eventually she fell off to sleep.

  “ARIA, WAKE UP,” IAN SAID, shaking her. She blinked several times as she straightened in the seat. The sun was out and brightly shinning into every window of the car he’d stolen soon after the rest area incident. Temporarily blinded and tired, she grimaced as she rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  Ian reached between the seats to the back and pulled his bag in his lap. Then he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the car.

  “Where are we?”

  He leaned down to peer at her from the other side of the car. “We’re going to miss our train if we don’t get a move on.” This would be the third car she’d ridden in with him since they’d met. Ian had left the BMW back at the hospital and took Harland’s wife’s car. They had to dump that vehicle at a metro station and stole this one.

  Aria moved to open her door, but before she could Ian was there pulling it open for her. She stepped out and took a minute to stretch while he got her bags from the back seat. Aria looked around. The streets were full of motorists, the sidewalks bustling with pedestrians, and the huge building across the street seemed like the epicenter of it all. Still, she wasn’t sure where they were or where they were going but she wouldn’t press. This was Ian and he somehow knew how to survive with both of them virtually unscathed so far, considering the shape they’d left everyone else he’d come up against.

  Ian stayed beside her, ever aware, moving with graceful sure steps as they walked across the street to the train station. She’d never been to or seen a picture of Union Station Pittsburgh, but all the signs told her this was it. Aria followed Ian, certain that he had everything in his sights, while she could only focus on him.

  Inside, he led her straight to a ticket booth. She had no desire to enter any of the shops; she was more interested in watching the people moving about the station as Ian spoke with the woman at the counter. Before she could settle down on a bench that was close by, he was taking her by the arm and moving toward their platform.

  The two of them sat quietly until their train pulled in and began loading. They boarded immediately. Aria followed Ian down a narrow corridor to a door. Ian opened it, and inside there were two upholstered seats with room for three people, a sink, a door that opened to a bathroom, and a huge window that spanned the far wall. In between the facing seats was a fold-out table for two. The room was small, which meant they would be basically touching each other the entire trip, however long that was. Ian placed her bags in a small storage closet and put his backpack on the double chair while Aria sat on the other seat.

  Shortly after they got in the room someone knocked on the door.

  Ian stepped into the hall and spoke to the woman in a hushed tone. Aria heard nothing other than the woman saying to enjoy their trip, then Ian was back inside the room, locking the door. He flopped down beside her and closed his eyes. Aria sat quietly as she looked at his face then slowly moved her gaze over his entire body.

  His appearance didn’t quite fit the man she’d seen kill hours earlier. Ian looked athletic enough, more of a soccer star or professional swimmer’s build, but he didn’t seem built for the kind of combat she witnessed. She didn’t realize she was going to touch him until her fingertips felt the scorching heat from his forearm. He was burning up, but didn’t seem ill at all. In fact, he looked better than healthy.

  Drawn by need to feel his powerful arms, she flattened her palm out over his skin and slowly trailed her hand up Ian’s bare arm. He had to be sore. She had almost reached his shoulder when he shuddered. Aria looked up to see him watching her with an intensity that would normally make her turn away.

  How was it possible that his hooded gaze made her freeze and burn at the same time? Her chest heaved with every breath she took. Her pulse raced and her body yearned to be encased by the unnatural heat that radiated off of him. She found herself wondering if all of him was this warm.

  Ian blinked, breaking the connection. He shook his head as if dismissing her touch, then looked away.

  “You’re burning up,” she croaked.

  Ian didn’t respond to her comment, but he did turn his eyes back to her face. His gaze lowered to her lips, down her neck to the shirt that covered her breasts, then back up to her lips. She’d seen the look in his eyes before. It was a look she’d gotten from a number of guys that never acted on it. Aria nervously looked away, but left her hand on his arm.

  “I’m fine,” Ian said, his voice sounded hoarse. He moved his arm which freed him of her touch. “Do you mind if I get cleaned up first?”

  “Of course not,” she said. Aria watched Ian grab a duffle bag she hadn’t even noticed. He disappeared into the small room across from her then shortly after the sound of spraying water filled the little cabin. Aria looked out the large window and soon was lost in the passing landscape as she wondered what they were going to do.

  After Aria had eaten the food he’d brought her from the dining car then she decided to shower. Ian liked to think he was a gentleman, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to test his strength because when it came to her, he was weak in a lot of ways. So he decided not to tempt his resistance by staying inside the cabin with only a thin door to separate him from her while she undressed and washed. Instead he waited in the hall until she was done.

  With her out of sight, his thoughts returned to what had happened at the rest stop. They had either been betrayed by the FBI agent or his father’s phone was tapped. No, he wouldn’t accept that a state senator who was as popular as his father could have his phone tapped, though it wasn’t impossible. He knew firsthand what a hacker could do, but he knew his father had a great security team, because he tested them often.

  So that would mean that the FBI agent was dirty, and he and Aria couldn’t trust law enforcement other than her father and possibly his deputies.

  Another hitch in the ‘keep Aria alive’ plan was that Jasper was involved now, and the soldier of fortune seemed to be wielding the same unnatural strength and speed that Ian suddenly had. Over the years Ian had always thought the still-active special ops soldier had held back during their sparring, but he never imagined that Jasper was hiding all that power. How did Jasper get that way?

  More importantly, how the hell did I get this way?

  Ian held his hands up and peered at them. He turned them around slowly to see if they looked any different from before, but they didn’t. He could admit that he had always possessed a certain quickness that others didn’t. Even his punches seemed more solid, though he’d never had to fight anyone other than Jasper; and he didn’t consider sparring as fighting, but he could tell that now he was different. What was even weirder, why hadn’t he discovered what he was capable of before now? What’s different?

  Had he always had sensitive hearing? He could hear and clearly decipher sounds throughout the train. He had power, and speed—the speed of a comic book hero.

  What triggered it?

  Of course while he couldn’t figure the trigger, he didn’t have to wonder how he or even Jasper had gotten this way. His uncle was a genetics genius and a doctor who ran one of the top drug manufacturing companies in the world. For as long as Ian could remember, Jasper had injected himself with a special concoction of “vitamins” once a week. Ian had taken a medication his uncle prescribed monthly until he was hospitalized when he was about ten. It was likely those injections he received as a boy had greatly enhanced him.<
br />
  It was then that Ian remembered that during the fight, Carlos had said that he was a part of the “club”. How many others were guinea pigs for Uncle Victor’s research? I wonder if Dad knows about it. And how is all this connected with me being set up for Aria’s murder?

  Ian needed to speak to his father, but doing so could put Aria in the path of a bullet next time and he wasn’t going to risk her safety just to get some questions answered. He decided to get her to safety before confronting his family. Besides, Ian knew his father would never truly do anything to hurt him. He hadn’t thought his uncle would either, but Jasper’s attack certainly changed that opinion.

  Only, Jasper had gone straight for Aria and not him so it doesn’t seem that he is on the ‘kill’ list just yet.

  When Ian heard Aria’s soft voice calling the all clear, he sighed. “You are a master of your emotions,” he reminded himself quietly. Ian then relaxed and locked away his immediate images of Aria in the shower, water trailing down her delectable body, before going back inside the small quarters.

  “So do we sleep in the chairs?” Aria asked him. She looked over the small, upholstered chairs with curiosity.

  They were both tired, though it was late-afternoon. “You need a proper rest.” Ian pulled out the chairs and arranged them into a full-size bed. He dressed the bed then pulled a single loft bed out above it. “I’ll sleep up top.”

  He watched as Aria climbed into the bed before he made quick work of getting the top bunk sheeted, then pulled his body up with ease and laid down. After an hour or so of looking at the ceiling and listening to Aria move around, Ian leaned over the edge of his bunk.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I can’t sleep.”