by Angel Payne
“Okay, since you won’t talk, asshole, I will,” she continued. “I’ve got a scalpel in the basic kit in my car that’ll get that ridiculous chip out. Thirty minutes after they haul your sorry, skinny buttocks into the darkest hole they can find for you, I’ll have that thing out of Zeke.” She stopped and leaned over him. “Whatever your purpose was here—blackmail, fear tactics, I don’t know—won’t work anymore, Mua. None of it ever did. Your media smear tactic for Z didn’t work. Tracking us into the mountains didn’t, either. And now, this pathetic attempt at hijacking a wedding is your most stupid idea yet. You’re done.”
Zeke longed to let out a whoop of triumph before swooping her into his arms and kissing her blind. But he waited. And watched. Something about the subtle quirks at the edges of Mua’s lips held him back from unlatching the last chain on his jubilance.
Damn it.
The man’s quirks turned into soft chuckles. Then a burst of laughter.
“Oh, little Rayna, how you amuse me,” Mua finally sneered. With a teasing bite of his lower lip, he went on. “I thank you for the clever recap of all our recent adventures. But I guarantee this is only the beginning of a colorful journey for us both.”
Rayna crossed her arms and smiled. “You’re going to prison, Mua. For good this time.”
The man released his lip. And returned her smile. “I’m going to walk out of here in fifteen minutes. A car with a full tank will be waiting for my use. And you’ll come with me, Rayna. Willingly.”
Rayna let out a laugh now. But Franzen didn’t join her. Neither did Zeke. The dark snakes in his blood slithered faster, flashing fangs that were set to chomp on him any second. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuuuuck. This isn’t good.”
Rayna cocked a saucy pose and finally quipped, “You going to enlighten me on how that plan will roll for you, Willie Wonka?”
Mua siphoned out a calm breath. “King and I invested some sizable amounts of money into researching new technology for insertable human chip technology.”
“Of course you did,” she spat.
He let her slur pass with a mild roll of his eyes. “We already knew from the widespread use of chips as tracking devices for pets, cattle, and research animals that the chips worked for basic tracking purposes. Our main concern centered on new attachments for disciplinary uses.” At that, his gaze shifted to Zeke. “You, Sergeant Hayes, are the inaugural recipient of such a chip.”
Rayna’s sass was dynamited by stiff fear. “Wh-What?” Her eyes, darkened by horror and hatred, locked on Mua. “What the hell are you saying?”
The man didn’t detract his stare from Zeke. “But you already knew, didn’t you?” His inspection went from interested to openly curious. “It feels different, doesn’t it?”
Zeke parted his lips, baring his teeth. Did the fucker think he was going to give up an answer that easily? “You used Luna for it,” he snarled instead. “Yesterday. Right?”
“Luna?” exclaimed Rayna. “What about Luna?”
“We ran into her yesterday. She hugged me goodbye—in a really weird way. That was what triggered it. It was that goddamn hug.”
Mua curved a small smirk. “I admire her, you know. She’s a very determined young lady. Willing to do the hard work to get what she wants.”
Rayna stumbled forward. Her chin shook. Zeke balled his hands to control himself from hauling her over and crushing her to his side. But he had a feeling, a bad one, even that wasn’t going to help this time.
“What the hell does that mean?” she finally demanded.
“Hmm,” Mua said. “Let me try to be simple. When your little friend Luna embraced your big lover Zeke yesterday, she officially unveiled the newest phase of our insertable discipline technology. A vial attached to his chip was activated, releasing a dose of concentrated neurotoxins into his bloodstream.”
“What?” Franzen barked.
“What?” Rayna gasped.
“Fuck,” Zeke muttered. But then weirdly, he laughed. If they were playing on the same side, Mua’s ingenuity would actually be impressive. “All right, let me go next,” he went on, directing a glare right back at the urbane asshole. “You control the on-and-off button to this thing, right? And as long as Rayna is stateside, the button stays on.”
Mua’s hands were still raised in front of his shoulders. But with a subtle flick of his right wrist, he got his sleeve lowered to expose a silver contraption that looked like a fancy watch. Embedded into it were a row of buttons that all glowed green, next to a little slider bar. “The slider’s position means the chip is set at the lowest secretion right now,” he explained, looking at Rayna, “And it shall remain that way, as long as you leave with me right now.”
“The fuck she will.” Okay, this shit scared him. But it was no worse than a HALO jump behind enemy lines at midnight. Or going home to find out you didn’t have a home anymore. Just like those times, he wrapped himself around the defense that saved his ass every time. Pure defiance.
Mua went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “If we receive clearance for a flight by the end of the day, Sergeant Hayes will emerge from this escapade with nothing more than treatable dizziness, sleeplessness, and a little muscle pain. If we’re delayed or if your friends throw ‘snags’ at us, the slider gets moved.”
Rayna hadn’t said a word. Hell, she barely moved. The terrified depths of her eyes spread their misery across her face as she finally looked at him. Her lips shook as she whispered desperately to him. “Oh, God. Oh, Zeke.”
He fought for something to say. Nothing emerged but a horrible, haunted growl. Meeting her eyes…he could barely stomach it. She was the monster’s property again because of the poison that had been shoved into him. Because of the evil that lived in him.
“No.”
It was hardly a word once it tore out of his lips. The letters ceased to be consonant and vowel, more a vehement rebellion that began in his gut and curled into his whole body. “She’s not going to do it, you filthy fuckwad.” He clutched her close, inhaling her, feeling her, branding her onto the mind he’d likely lose in another second. “She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours!”
With his lips against her neck, he growled, “Because. You’re. Mine.”
Mua let out a prissy snort. And, as Z had expected, clicked a button on his wrist.
Fuck.
He expected the toxin blast to be like a nuclear drop. A flash of light, blissful nothing. Kaboom. Done. He’d either be dead or rocking turnip salad for a brain; either scenario ended Mua’s hold over Rayna forever. And Franz and Runway would finally have their legal justification for plowing the bastard full of lead.
Trouble was, the shit was more like napalm. Thick as lava, burning like his blood had turned into the River Styx. He moaned, and it wasn’t pretty. It was a messy, shitty hell. He fell away from Rayna, rolled to the ground, and felt a chair go flying from his kick. Inside seconds, he was on his way to a full seizure.
“Zeke!” Rayna’s scream tore into his brain like a meat cleaver dipped in battery acid. “Oh my God, no! Noooo! Turn it off! Turn it off now!”
“Rayn-n-n-na.” He had no damn idea how his mouth formed the word. “No. No, god-d-d-damnit!” Or those, either.
“Who am I listening to, Rayna?” Mua’s voice was full of sickening silk.
“Me!” Zeke shouted.
“Me!” she cried. “I swear to God, Mua, if you don’t turn it off now, I’m not moving another inch!”
“N-N-N-Not moving anyway.” Holy hell, why did he have to have such a high pain threshold? He should be unconscious by now. No. Stay aware. Stay alive. Keep her alive. “You—not—moving. I—order—it!”
“And I am not your sub.”
“Rayna!”
“Mua, turn it off.”
The bomb was suddenly doused.
His nerves, muscles, and mind danced in gratitude.
His heart crashed in despair. His soul curled up in its own shadows.
“Rayna,�
� he whispered to her from that abyss. It was all he could do. Though the pain was gone, his body rebelled against movement. His mind struggled to remember his own name. Did it even matter now?
It was so fucking cold. Snow fell on his face. Ice, too. No…the ice was his creation. It was formed of his tears, flowing and freezing across his face as well as the lips continuing to plead her name. He was trapped in a glacier of helplessness called his own body. In short, he really was in hell.
For two miraculous seconds, summer returned. It warmed him like an Indian sunset and smelled like cardamom sprinkled on apple tarts. He sighed as he breathed in the bliss of it.
“Zeke. I love you.”
Then summer was gone. His sigh turned into a moan. He let it fade to silence as the shadows in his spirit turned to pitch-black midnight.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rayna didn’t know who was more eager for the private jet to get here and land, her or Mua. The sooner the damn thing landed, the sooner they’d be on it and airborne—and the sooner Zeke would be safe.
She was certain her fervent glances into the sky outnumbered the man’s by now.
Man?
She dropped her head and kicked at the floor of the Spanaway Airport terminal. How had she remotely thought of that word to qualify the creature standing before the plate-glass window? She wasn’t sure monster filled the bill anymore. Not when she thought about everything that had happened this morning. Not when she remembered everything he’d done to Zeke.
Not when she lifted a hand to the tidy nick at the base of her own neck now.
Her insertion site was small and sterile. No gashes or screwdrivers like they’d used on Zeke. One of Mua’s goons had done it in the car on the way here. He’d even used surgical gloves and alcohol.
Just like the woman King had used to put in the piercing between her legs.
She shuddered and sucked in a breath.
Real monsters didn’t hack out your humanity in bites. They drilled it out, bit by excruciating bit, with needles.
No, Rayna. This piercing isn’t your shame. It’s your true medal of honor. Don’t forget…
She bit back a sob. She clung to his words, to his voice in her heart, but hated them at the same time. She looked to the sky again, pulled by its numbing gray pallor, longing to drag it over her heart like a giant, dark blanket. Don’t forget? How the hell did she do anything except remember? How the hell did she take another step, pull in another breath, have another thought without being reminded of what she was—a woman who held the life of the man she loved in every move she made until that plane landed and she made Mua destroy his magic Rolex for good.
The snow turned into a sopping rain. The runway remained bleak and empty.
What the hell was taking so long? Seattle had a hundred private jet charter outfits. It took no more than three computer mouse clicks to order one up.
Exhaustion slammed her. She looked up and headed for the ladies’ room. A couple of Mua’s men hustled to her side. They were brand-new minions since Mua had allowed Franz to go ahead and arrest the team who’d accompanied him to the wedding.
“Seriously?” she asked them. “I’m going to pee and wash my face, boys. If you want the play-by-play, ask Mua if you can borrow his tracking toy.”
The men backed off, though they took up positions on both sides of the bathroom door. She went inside, used the facilities, and then did her best to wash off the stress of the day. Her face and hair were at Broom Hilda status, still streaked and tangled respectively due to her faceplant in the grass beneath Zeke as well as the meltdown she’d had while watching him writhe from the neurotoxin attack. She braced herself against the sink, weathering the violent shivers just from the memory of it. Somebody had propped open the window at the end of the stalls. She stepped beneath it, gratefully sucking in the crisp air, trying to wrap the memory of rain, wind, and pines into her senses. All too soon, her world would be nothing but sweat, heat, mud, and bugs.
She doused that thought by thinking of Zeke. They’d surely gotten him to the base by now, started him on detox from the poison Mua had pumped into his system—and gotten together a contingency in case the monster chose to ram that slider again for the sick fun of it.
The sky roared to life with the engines of a descending plane.
Her chest constricted with a mix of happiness and horror.
“The beginning of the end, Ray,” she whispered. “Let’s get going.”
When she emerged from the bathroom, the henchmen attached themselves to her sides, one at each elbow. Their grips were ironclad, matching the tenacious triumph on Mua’s face. He spoke on a throwaway cell but motioned them forward, making it known that he’d watch her board first from the safety of the terminal.
The first goons pushed open the glass door toward the tarmac where a sleek white corporate jet had skidded to a textbook stop. The men tightened their holds and pulled her into the rain.
Despite the icy drops on her skin, her face burned as terror detached her mind from her body. If she consciously thought about her steps being part of Mua’s victory procession, she’d crumble in grief. The son of a bitch wasn’t getting the satisfaction of watching that.
The boarding door peeled back from the plane. A steward descended the short stairway and locked it down from the bottom.
Just before ten soldiers in full battle gear spilled out from it.
She was too petrified to scream, not that she could have. Both her watchdogs were instantly shot down, their grips taking her down with them. Their deaths saved her skin. She was able to flatten herself as the terminal’s big window was shattered from inside. An object had been flung from it.
“Grenade!”
The bellow came in Franzen’s distinct baritone. Rayna gasped from the awareness. Franzen? What the hell? What was the man doing here, leading a mission that would ensure Zeke’s mind was fried from the inside out before they were done?
Now she knew where Z had picked up his big, dumb, and grizzly streak.
She scrambled back toward the terminal as the explosive went off, deafening her as it blew a hole into the pavement and set the service shed on fire. But she didn’t stop her frantic crawl back to Mua. She huffed in desperation, begging fate that she wasn’t too late to stop the monster from throwing the switch on Zeke.
Past the ringing in her ears, she heard Franzen yell again. “Rayna, no! Goddamnit, Chestain, don’t you dare go back—”
She jerked open the door. “I’m not your sub, either,” she said under her breath.
The second she clambered back inside, Mua jerked her to her feet. His hair tumbled into his face. His nostrils were wide, his teeth were bared. “What the fuck is this?”
“You think I have a clue?” She fought to jerk back. Being this close to him nauseated her. “I haven’t peed without you knowing about it, Jabba the Hut. Tell me when I’ve had a chance to coordinate shit like this.”
Mua coiled his hand into her hair. “Your sarcasm is not attractive, my dear. You’ll soon learn to bite that pretty tongue of yours. We’ll start with a lesson right now—and I know just the person to help you learn it. Let’s hope Sergeant Hayes is up for the task.”
“No.” She croaked it. “Please! Mua—”
The rest of it died before it reached her lips. Shock was a damn good mute button. “Huh?” she finally rasped, blinking at the contraption on the man’s right wrist. Though it was still silver and still sported all the mechanisms Mua had unveiled this morning on Garrett and Sage’s lawn, nothing was lit. The thing was no better than a fancy stage prop.
“What the fuck?” Mua repeated.
“Hey, Mua.”
The saucy taunt, issued from the back of the small waiting room, captured Rayna’s curiosity as much as the man who held her. She rapidly altered the perception. Mua wasn’t curious. He was horrified.
Guess that was how monsters looked when the real version of their favorite play toy was transformed into a twisted piece of ex
pressionist art—and dangled from the fingers of a catsuit-clad woman with a matching feline smirk.
“Looking for this?” Catwoman teased. She tossed her chin with a purring tsk. “You boys are so stupid about where you put your gadgets when you shower. Somebody could come along and tamper with them so easily.”
“Luna.” Both syllables were twists of raw rage. “What the hell have you done?”
“No shit,” Rayna seconded. Her own reaction to the woman’s appearance was an unnervingly mixed bag. She couldn’t believe this long-legged hybrid of Lara Croft and fetish fatale was the same meek, spaced-out subbie she’d seen at Bastille less than a week ago—or the woman so desperate to get Zeke for her own, she’d done Mua’s dirtiest work for him.
“What I should have done yesterday,” Luna declared. “Or for that matter, the day before. It’s called the right thing, Mua, and I’m doing it now.”
Mua erupted with a snarl. “You fucking fool!” His fingers tightened against Rayna’s scalp. “What’s done is done, Luna.”
“No.” She threw the chip controller down and then crushed it beneath her boot. “It’s not done. I was listening this morning, asshole. At the mansion, when all of you boys were off having your fun at the wedding, I engaged the radio capability on your phone. Yeah, guess what? Dorky little Luna knows a thing or two about all that technical shit, too. I heard it all, Mua. I listened to every second of what you did to Zeke.” Her face contorted. “You said it would be simple. You said he’d suffer nothing worse than a Taser hit!”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His breaths, harsh and desperate, resounded in Rayna’s ear. “You weren’t there, you little idiot. You have no idea—”
“I have every idea.” She hooked a heel beneath the mangled machinery and kicked high, sending the thing through the window he’d broken with the grenade. “You tortured him, you goddamn monster. I listened to every disgusting second.” Her glare gleamed with brilliant purple fury, though tears glistened when she shifted her focus to Rayna. “And I listened to what it did to you, Rayna.” A heavy swallow moved down her throat. “And I heard what you told him.”