Bittersweet Darkness

by Nina Croft

  She couldn’t see Christian’s eyes hidden behind dark glasses. When he removed them and a shiver ran through her; they glowed crimson. “Is he alive?” he asked nodding at where the colonel lay behind her.

  Carl crouched down beside him. “Just.”

  “Is he your boss?” Christian asked, his voice dark as midnight.

  She nodded.

  “Bring him with us.” He turned to Faith. “Take us to her.”

  She stumbled and thought she saw Ash move toward her out of the corner of her eye. But when she glanced his way, he was still intent on ignoring her. It was what she’d expected, but it still hurt more than she could bear.

  She led the way down the corridor, Christian at her side, Carl behind her, with the colonel slung over his shoulder, Ash bringing up the rear. She knew he was watching her now, she could sense his eyes on her back. When she got to the first checkpoint, Christian snapped her ID badge from around her neck and slid it into the slot. He put a hand behind her neck and forced her face to the panel for the retinal scan. That was why he had been carrying the severed head. A wave of nausea washed through her. At least they’d kept hers attached—so far.

  At the second check, she bent down before he could touch her.

  The main lights were out, leaving the dim orange glow of the emergency lighting. The place was in lockdown. She hoped everybody had gone. She’d done this, brought this down on them, and while some of them no doubt deserved to die, there were others who were innocent.

  A door opened down the corridor, and the young priest stepped out. He took one look at their little group and shot back inside. They rounded the last corner. The guards were on alert, their weapons drawn. Christian shoved her behind him as the first bullet exploded through the confined space.

  Bullets flew in all directions. Something hit her in the face and blood trickled down her cheek. A hand shoved her from behind. She crashed to the floor, clumsy in the cuffs and landed awkwardly on her side. Her head slammed against the wall and for a second everything went black. When she blinked open her eyes, she lay on her side on the concrete floor. Two of the guards were down. Christian Roth was holding the third; the man’s head back pulled against his chest. It seemed to happen in slow motion. One handed fisted in the man’s hair, yanking his head to the side. Sharp white fangs gleamed from between Christian’s lips, and then he sank them into the man’s throat. At the same time, he twisted his neck. The snap of bone sounded louder than the bullets.

  Christian released his hold and the body crashed to the floor. He wiped the back of his hand over his face smearing crimson across his chin.

  The wall rose in her mind. This was a show. Nothing more. He was trying to shock her. This couldn’t be real. Maybe lack of food—or that blood vessel pressing on her brain—was making her see things.

  Vampires did not exist.

  Her mind screamed the words, and she screwed her eyes tight to block out the vision, concentrated on the wall as though it could save her.

  Someone grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet. Ash.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Like you care.

  The words hovered on her lips, but she bit them down. Why should he care? She bent her head and wiped her cheek against her jacket. She was bleeding, but she was hadn’t been shot. There had been no slam of impact like last time. Her body was a little banged up from the fall but she was okay.

  “I’ll live,” she muttered.

  She just wasn’t sure for how long. Ash appeared about to say something, probably along the lines of—not for long. But in the end, he shook his head and stepped away.

  Christian was examining the door.

  “Stand back,” he muttered.

  Ash grabbed her arm again and pushed her behind him as a ricochet of bullets exploded into the door.

  She peered over Ash’s shoulder to see Christian kick the door in. The metal gave way before him and he disappeared into the room. Ash hurried past her. She followed slowly and stood in the open doorway.

  Christian crouched in front of Tara who still huddled in the corner. She stared at him as though she couldn’t believe he was real, then reached out a hand and lightly touched his cheek.

  “I knew you would come for me.”

  There was so much love in her face and suddenly, the doubts that had been tormenting Faith vanished from her mind, leaving her at peace. Whatever happened, she had done the right thing. She would never regret this.

  Christian reached out and stroked his finger over the curve of Tara’s cheek, then across her swollen lower lip.

  “I’ll kill them,” he growled.

  Faith was pretty sure most of them were already dead.

  “Just get me out of here,” Tara said.

  He nodded, straightened, and held out a hand to Tara. She clutched it and he pulled her to her feet. As she swayed, he wrapped his arms around her, dragged her tight to him. She was so small, she tucked in beneath his chin, and they stood for long seconds clinging to each other.

  Finally, Tara pulled free and stepped back, though Christian kept hold of her hand. She scanned the room, her gaze settling on Ash. Faith had been avoiding looking at him; now she gave a quick glance at his face. He was staring at Tara, a vaguely hopeful expression on his face. Tara held out her free hand, and he stepped closer and took it. She winced and pulled free, cradled the hand across her chest, but her lips curved up in a smile. “Thank you,” she said.

  “It was nothing.”

  “I bet.”

  Tara peered beyond him to where Faith stood in the doorway, her lips started to form a smile, and then she must have noticed the handcuffs. Her brows drew together and she turned back to Christian.

  “Where am I?”

  “An unwilling guest of the British government,” he replied.

  “Really? Will this be a problem?”

  “No. There’s a cleanup team on the way. The place is locked down both systems-wise and magically. Nothing is getting in or out until were done. And I’m guessing there’ll be no other record of your being here.”

  Carl appeared at her shoulder. “Christian, he’s waking up, what do you want to do with him?”

  “Bring him in here.”

  Faith stepped aside as he dragged the half-conscious colonel into the room and dropped him to the middle of the floor. Crimson stained his shoulder, and there was a dark patch on his right thigh where he’d taken a second bullet.

  Tara gasped.

  Beside her, Christian growled. “Did he touch you?”

  She nodded. “He did the interrogation on the first day.”

  “Kill him,” Christian said, his tone soft and deadly.

  Ash stepped up to the prone man. Faith held her breath. He wouldn’t kill an injured man in cold blood. Would he? The others had been different. That had been in a fight and they still had to free Tara. Now Tara was safe. Faith opened her mouth to speak, but Carl rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She glanced at his face, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible, shake of his head. He was warning her not to bring attention to herself or she might suffer the same fate.

  It didn’t matter. She couldn’t stand by while they killed him.

  But the hesitation was too long. Ash leaned down and took the colonel’s head between his hands. Faith saw his expression of terror, and then Ash twisted and the colonel’s neck snapped.

  She took a step forward but stopped. There was nothing she could do. The colonel was dead.

  The act shocked her more than anything else that night. The ease with which the execution had been carried out told her that this wasn’t the first time Ash had killed. He released his grip on the colonel and the body slumped to the floor. Raising his head, Ash met her gaze for the first time that night. His eyes were dark, expressionless. Then he turned away.

  What was he that he could kill so casually?

  Maybe it was just as well he hated her now. She didn’t think she would ever forget seeing him kil
l.

  Beside her, Carl was speaking softly onto a cell phone. He pushed it back into his pocket and spoke to the rest of the room. “That’s the cleanup team. They’ve arrived.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Christian said. He scooped Tara up in his arms and she snuggled against his chest. Faith had a brief stab of jealousy. She had never had anyone hold her like that. Now, she never would.

  “What do we do with her?” Carl asked, nodding in Faith’s direction.

  Christian’s silver gaze crawled over her skin, his expression cold as he considered her.

  Faith knew her life hung in the balance and suddenly, she didn’t care anymore. It was all too much. They could kill her here like they’d done the colonel. It would be over so quickly.

  “Ryan will be pissed if you kill her without even giving her a hearing,” Carl pointed out. “And she did tell us where to find Tara.”

  She glanced at where Ash stood impassive beside the body. Would he take her life as easily? Would he feel any regrets? His face told her nothing. Finally, Christian shrugged. “Take her back to the Order. But if she set this up, she dies.”

  So it seemed like she wasn’t going to die just yet. But she had no way of proving that she hadn’t set Tara up, so it was probably merely a stay of execution. And where was the Order? Why weren’t they taking her back to CR International?

  Carl’s hand on her arm was gentle as he led her out of the room and toward the entrance of the building. She could sense the others behind them. Christian carrying Tara, Ash again at the rear. Faith averted her eyes from the bodies they passed, mainly security guards. A small group of men stood by the main entrance, presumably the clean-up crew. More scary bad-asses, who didn’t look like any cleaners she’d ever seen. Christian spoke briefly with them and they were out in the open air.

  As soon as they stepped through the door, a black van pulled up at the curb. The window was down, and she caught a brief sight of Ryan in the driver’s seat. He turned her way and frowned when he saw her in Carl’s grip. But he didn’t protest. Maybe Carl had been wrong and he wouldn’t care whether they killed her or not.

  Ash climbed into the front of the van beside him. Carl hustled her around the back and opened the door. Inside was a double row of seats facing each other.

  “Get in,” Carl said.

  He must have realized it was impossible with her hands cuffed behind her and he gripped her around the waist and hefted her in. She stumbled against the seat but righted herself as Carl climbed in beside her.

  “Sit.”

  She could do that…almost. She perched on the edge of the seat, the only position possible with her hands still tied. But Carl reached behind her unlocked one cuff and slipped it through the metal railing of the seat.

  Christian climbed in, Tara still in his arms, and sat in the farthest corner from her as though he couldn’t bear to be near her. An old man got in last, cast Faith a look of interest, and sat down next to them. The doors slammed shut.

  Faith leaned back and closed her eyes as the last of her strength drained from her. The vehicle started to move.

  She just wanted this nightmare to end. But she had an idea the night was far from over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Relief that Tara was safe battled with his fury that Faith had been involved in her kidnapping.

  She’d lied to him.

  “So?” Ryan said.

  Ash forced himself to shift his gaze from the passing city, to the man at his side. “So what?” he replied.

  “Faith? Was it a setup?”

  Ash didn’t know. And did it really matter? Last night he’d held her in his arms, shown something of himself, his fears for Tara. And all the while, she had known where his daughter was being kept. Being tortured.

  Had they been torturing Tara while Faith kissed him. Or had she been there when they broke his daughter’s fingers. Black rage filled him, and he forced it down. He knew she couldn’t have been in on the interrogations. Tara had seemed shocked to see her. Though that didn’t mean she hadn’t watched. The cell had a one-way mirror, no doubt into a viewing room. Had she enjoyed watching?

  Maybe she got off on pain.

  Maybe he would find out.

  “Well?” Ryan interrupted his thoughts.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Ryan gave a long sigh. “Good.”

  “Christian wants her dead.”

  “Shit.”

  “You’d better hope she wasn’t involved in this from the start or she will be.”

  “Do you want her dead?”

  He thought about the question for all of two seconds.

  No!

  The word screamed through his mind as he tried to contemplate killing Faith as he had done to her boss. He’d felt nothing but satisfaction. But he’d seen the shock and horror on Faith’s face. She’d known him in that moment for what he was. A killer.

  He didn’t want to kill her, and he didn’t want anyone else to kill her. But he did want her to suffer for what she had done. For the lies, she had told. For making him believe that she was coming to care about him, when in reality she’d been using him.

  The thought brought him up short.

  Why did it matter whether she cared for him or not? The whole reason he’d wanted her in the first place was because he couldn’t see himself feeling anything for her but lust.

  This shouldn’t be affecting him.

  But it was.

  And how could he blame her for using him when he’d planned to do the same

  But he did.

  “Shit.”

  “Problem?” Ryan asked.

  “No.”

  Yes. He had a fucking problem. He’d sworn he would never care for another woman and certainly not a human where loss was inevitable. He had to stamp on this right now. In some ways, he hoped she had set Tara up, because then he could really hate her. Though he still wouldn’t let Christian kill her.

  He could offer to keep her prisoner though. Take her to the Abyss. Toss her in a dungeon, make her want him, and then fuck her brains out every night until he’d got her out of his system. His dick twitched at the thought.

  He had an image of her chained to the wall, naked, and he liked it. He could feel himself growing hot and hard.

  “You all right?” Ryan asked.

  He growled low in his throat, but the sting of desire subsided. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

  “So how can they prove it one way or the other—about Faith, I mean?”

  “Christian will use compulsion on her.”

  “You mean mind-fuck her.” Ryan frowned.

  “Yeah. Is that a problem? You’d rather he kills her?”

  “I’d rather he just believed her.”

  “Would you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyway. It does no harm.”

  “So you say. I still don’t like it.”

  The journey to the Order took only fifteen minutes and they didn’t speak again. Clearly, Ryan wasn’t happy, But hell, who was?

  They pulled up in the underground parking and he climbed down, went around the back, and opened the double doors. Jonas jumped down first, amazingly agile for a man whole appeared to be in his seventies at the least. Ash suspected he was actually much older. Christian followed, turning to help Tara down. Ash gave her a quick glance over—already, she appeared stronger. The bruises still marred her skin, but she would heal quickly. A black eye, swollen lip, and he could see a ring of fingerprints around her throat. She still held the hand cradled against her chest. If Roz was here, she could have healed her straightaway, but she wasn’t.

  Carl came next, and then he reached back in and tugged Faith down. Her hands were cuffed behind her and she landed badly and stumbled against Carl. She rested against the other man’s body as she found her balance, and Ash felt a growl building inside him.

  He ground his teeth together.

  “We’ll meet in thirty minutes.” Christian nodded to Faith. “Put her in
the cells.”

  “I’ll take her,” Ash said and wished he hadn’t spoken as everyone, including Faith, turned to look at him. Dark shadows circled her eyes. There was a cut, high on one cheekbone. It wasn’t deep but still slowly seeped blood. She’d stopped bothering to wipe it away and a trail ran down her face and dripped onto the white of her shirt. The hands were cuffed behind her back, forcing her breasts out and his gaze lingered on them a moment, then back to her face.

  He caught a flash of fear in her eyes, quickly blanked out. She feared him? He should like that, but he didn’t. He forced himself to look at Tara and hardened his heart against her.

  Carl had been watching him; now he gave a curt nod. “Don’t damage her,” he said.

  It was none of Carl’s goddamn business what he did to Faith. He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. She felt brittle, breakable almost, and he loosened his grip as he led her toward the elevator.

  Once inside, he released her and pressed the button for the lower floor. He half expected her to start talking, to defend herself, protest her innocence. Instead, she closed her eyes and rested one shoulder against the wall.

  She still didn’t speak as he led her down the corridor to the cells. This was very similar to where they had found Tara—the place was meant to be intimidating.

  Even the cell door was similar though the room inside was different—about nine feet by nine feet, the only furniture a narrow cot. But there was a small bathroom with a sink and toilet off to one side.

  He didn’t want to leave her here. Her strength was one of the things that attracted him to her. Now she appeared broken. Fragile, as though she might snap if he touched her. He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. But he was in no way sure that was the truth.

  If she would just ask for forgiveness or better yet, tell him she hadn’t known. That she’d come to them as soon as she’d discovered Tara’s whereabouts. But her lips remained clamped tight closed.