by Angie Sandro
I motion Gabriella forward, but she edges closer to me with a squeak. “Who are these guys, Dena?”
“Friends. Don’t worry; you’re safe now.”
Angelo pushes the button to open the elevator door. He gives Gabriella a saucy wink and grin and waves her forward. My bestie giggles, fanning herself as she follows him inside. As the doors closes, I catch her practicing her seductive lip pout and eyelash flutter on him. Poor Angelo. Trapped in a metal box with no way to escape her feminine wiles. Of course, he started the game first.
“What about Victor?” Ferdinand asks. “Is he still down here?”
I bite my lip. Something’s not right. “He got away with some vials of my blood and tissue samples. Ivanov plans to use them to perfect a serum of the mystery substance. It’ll make his men invulnerable.”
“Ivanov will find that task difficult without his pet doctor,” Ferdinand says.
Anders’s fingers interlock with mine. “We still need to try to recover them. My guess is Victor’s still around waiting for Estrada. Let’s get out of here.” He steps forward, but then stops when the guards spread out to flank us. He shifts to the side, blocking me with his body. My heart races at the unease he tries to conceal. I know him too well not to be nervous.
“What’s going on, Ferdinand?” I keep my eyes directed on the man I thought was my friend, but I watch his men through my peripheral vision.
“Step away from the avatar and come over here, Dena.”
Hot damn, he’s a traitor after all. Mala called it. She’ll never let me live this one down. I’ll have to listen to her tell me I told you so until the day one of us dies. Which may be today, ’cause nobody’s taking Anders away from me without a fight.
I move in front of Anders, raising my fists. “No.”
Anders grabs my arm and pulls me beside him. “Don’t block my line of fire.”
Right. He has a gun. He keeps it pointed at the ground. Which is smart. The situation’s tense enough without everyone bringing guns into it.
Ferdinand crosses his arms, looking totally badass and scary. “This is not up for debate, Dena. He’s dangerous. So are you…” My wise Gandalf is gone. As is the joking confidant who lowered my defenses, allowing me to feel comfortable enough to divulge my innermost secrets. I was lonely and isolated until he entered my life. He took advantage of my weakness.
Fucking Ferdinand picked the wrong time to be two-faced. “Glad you understand the situation. Rather than putting your guys at risk by messing with us, you should be going after Victor. Unless you work for him, too. Are you one of Ivanov’s men?”
“No, I’ve simply decided you’re safer under my protection. Hell, Paradise Pointe’s safer if the avatar is detained. Too many people have died protecting you. Your freedom comes with a price I’m not willing to pay anymore.”
“I should’ve let Mala fry your brain, traitor.” I hold up my fists. “Fine. If you really want to make this a fight, I guarantee you won’t win. I’ll take them all down.”
“Enough,” Anders says, stepping around me. He raises his arms above his head. “I give up.”
“Are you crazy?” I yell. The soldiers come at us in a rush. Anders doesn’t even try to fight the man who grabs his arm. I pull him off Anders, blocking the punch aimed at my face. I grab his arm and fling him into a second man who staggers back. The third moves in while I’m distracted, which doesn’t seem very fair.
Anders lunges for me, but I dodge. My quick reflexes usually don’t work on him, but I’m in the groove now. I keep my body between Anders and the soldiers. There are too many of them. And I’m afraid to use my full strength ’cause I don’t want to hurt them. They won’t heal like Victor.
“I’ve got this!” I tell him. “Really. Trust me, I do.” A kick from behind knocks me into the wall. Okay, maybe I don’t…ow. A sharp pain explodes in my head. The hallway blurs, then goes grainy. My chest burns, and I struggle to catch my breath. I’m running. A sharp prick hits my shoulder, and I yank out a feathered dart and throw it to the ground. I try to rub the sting away, knowing the arm and pain aren’t mine.
“What’s happening?”
This isn’t my thought either. Mala?
“H-Help. Help me.”
“Mala…she’s screaming.” I’m no longer in my own head. I see from my cousin’s eyes and feel her pain. Her terror threatens to overwhelm me. She broadcasts her panic directly into my brain, no filter, just a straight infusion of fear.
The drug in her system confuses her. Her thoughts come in ragged impressions—visions I struggle to interpret. She’s still in the hospital, running down a long hallway. Red doors flash past. All of them closed. The one doorknob she jerks on won’t turn.
Where are all the people? Her legs turn watery. Each step gets harder.
A hand grabs her arm, jerking her around. She looks up, and I see a familiar ugly face. Victor.
Damn, I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. He pulls his arm back and slams his fist into her chin.
Pain rolls my eyes back. “Mala!” I scream, falling with her.
Anders wraps his arms around me. “What’s wrong?”
I press my face into his shoulder. Sobs leave me breathless. I shake my head, trying to dispel the fuzzy aftereffects of the vision—the taint of the sedative. It felt too real. “Victor grabbed Mala. I saw it.” She’s so frightened.
Ferdinand’s voice comes from above us. “Mala and Landry were searching the fourth floor. She’s fine.”
“She’s not. I’m not sure how, but I’m seeing through her eyes. He shot her with a dart gun.” In my mind’s eye, I see Victor’s face from below. He carries her to an ambulance and climbs inside. Two men also load a stretcher onto the same ambulance. I can’t see the person lying under the blanket. Is it Landry? He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her without a fight. Oh God, what if Victor killed him?
Pain eats the vision, and I blink. “They’re in an ambulance in front of the ER. If we hurry, we can stop him. Please.”
Anders releases me and stands. “Promise you’ll find Mala, and I’ll go without a fight.”
Ferdinand taps on his earpiece. “Beta Team, target’s been sighted in the ambulance bay. He has hostages so proceed with caution.” He motions for Anders. “Let’s go.”
“Stop…” I push to my feet. Three guys move to block me. I have to go through them to get to Anders, but he’s already in front of Ferdinand. He holds out his arms and handcuffs are locked around his wrists.
“It’s better this way, Dena.” Anders says, not meeting my eyes. “I’m dangerous. I can’t control this alone. I need help.”
“You’ve got me. We’re a team.” I raise my hands in the air as I approach Ferdinand. “I call a truce. Here’s the deal. I’m going with Anders. We won’t be separated. He needs my help to control the shadow, and guys, if the shadow breaks free, you’re all a bunch of toasty marshmallows on a spit.” I turn to Ferdinand. “In return, promise you won’t hurt him?”
Ferdinand elbows his way between the soldiers and pauses an arm’s length away from me—where’s the trust? “You have my word.”
With those four words, I give up.
I follow the men onto the elevator, planning my escape once we reach the first floor. If Ferdinand thinks he can trust me then he doesn’t know me very well. Anders refuses to meet my eyes. Is he also biding his time? Or does he really believe he’s too dangerous to be free?
The elevator doors open. We shuffle out, and the doors close behind us.
The silence catches my attention first. The entire lobby is empty of people.
Everything happens next in a blur.
Sheriff deputies run from all corners of the room, forming a wall of black and tan uniforms barring our exit. Guns point in our direction.
“BPSO, drop your weapons!” Lieutenant Bessie Caine orders. “Put your hands up!”
I reach for the ceiling. Oh my God, I’ve never been so happy to see this many cops in my entire life. I’v
e known Bessie my whole life, and she’s never looked cooler or more in control than at this moment. Her eyes are hard chips of ice. There’s not a sign of weakness or compromise in them. If Ferdinand’s men don’t comply, she’ll shoot them. I believe that.
Ferdinand’s men believe, too. They hesitate, looking to him for direction, and I hold my breath. What is he going to do? Fight?
Ferdinand raises his hand over his head. “Lieutenant Caine, there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”
“Only if you resist. Guns on the ground.”
He pulls his gun out of the holster and tosses it in Bessie’s direction, then interlocks his fingers over his head and drops to his knees. His men do the same.
Deputies rush forward, but I don’t watch as Ferdinand’s men are taken into custody. I rush over to Bessie, with Anders at my side. “Thank God, you showed up in time,” I say, throwing my arms around her for a quick hug, then stepping back. “Where’s Mala? Did she call you?”
“Yes, she said there were armed men at the hospital. Do you know what the hell’s going on here?” Bessie’s dark brow creases as she motions a deputy toward Anders. “Someone find a key and unshackle Detective Anders.”
“Thanks,” Anders says, but I can’t tell if he means it. He rubs his wrists. “Are these the only men you’ve taken into custody? Alonso Estrada is responsible for kidnapping Dena’s friend Gabriella. Ferdinand’s men took him.”
Bessie keeps an eye on the room as she speaks. “Gabriella’s safe. Her injuries are being seen to in the ER. We also intercepted the men holding Dr. Estrada. He’s en route to the police station. Unfortunately we haven’t located the man Gabriella calls Victor.”
“Victor escaped…” No. The terror I’ve been holding back rushes through me. “What about Mala? Tell me she’s safe.” I grab Bessie’s arm. “Ferdinand said his men would get to her in time. He promised—”
Bessie’s body tightens like a tightly wound spring. She shakes my hand off her arm, her own settling on the butt of her gun. “Ferdinand took Mala?”
“No, Victor. He shot her with a sedative, then he and two other men loaded her and another patient into an ambulance.”
The tension inside Bessie snaps. She moves fast, broadcasting the information over the radio mike while dispatching officers still on scene to search the hospital. “What else can you tell me?”
“Dr. Estrada said he’d tell me where to find Victor if I protected him. This was his plan the whole time.” I lean into Anders, speaking to him more than to Bessie since she won’t understand. “It’s why he gave Victor the tissue samples. Why he kidnapped Mala. She’s his insurance policy.”
Anders places his hand on the small of my back. His warmth spreads, banishing the chill in my body and bringing clarity to my tangled thoughts. Estrada and Ferdinand are the links to everything. And if the only way to get Mala back is by making a deal with the devil, then so be it. But I won’t go forward alone.
Bessie pulls car keys out of her pocket and hands them to Anders. “Detective, you’ve been reinstated for duty. Get to the station and find out what Estrada knows.” Her cold gaze shifts to the handcuffed man surrounded by deputies. “I’ll meet up with you after I speak with Ferdinand Lafitte.”
“Bessie,” I swallow hard, “what if Mala’s—”
“Best you know up-front, Dena. I don’t deal in what ifs. We will find Mala. Whatever it takes. Now go. I’ve got a mess to clean up.”
Anders leads me outside. Police cars fill the parking lot, blocking the front entrance. A large crowd stands behind them. We find Bessie’s car parked off to the side of the building. It’s a secluded corner, blocked off from view of the parking lot. For the first time in what feels like forever, we’re alone. Safe. I can finally breathe.
Anders and I share a look, just one. But it says everything. He opens his arms, and I fall against him, hugging him tight. I don’t want to ever let him go. “Tell me everything’s going to be okay,” I whisper against his chest. “Even if it’s a lie, I’ll believe it if it comes from you.”
“Everything will be fine. We’ll find her.”
“I believe you. In you. Always. But you need to have faith in yourself…and in me. ’Cause if you don’t and you let yourself be captured by Ferdinand or anyone else, ever again, without a fight, I’m gonna kick your perky ass.”
Anders laughs. “So you meant it when you said we’re a team? You’re not afraid I’ll hurt you?”
“I love you, Michael Anders. It would break my heart if I lost you, and I’m more afraid of that than I am of anything the shadow might do.”
“I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you in any way.” He lifts my face and presses a kiss to my lips. “That includes breaking your heart. I may be the avatar of Death, but I live for you. You called me from the darkness. You brought light to my shattered soul and made me whole.”
Aw, that’s the cheesiest and sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
I brush a tear from my eye, then hug Anders again. We were pieces of a puzzle scattered into the wind, brought together and made stronger together. I’m not afraid to face whatever fate throws at us next. I will fight for my family, my friends, and myself. I’m living this second shot at life to the fullest, without wasting any of these precious moments hiding in shadows, wishing for Death. ’Cause I’m already held safely in his embrace.
Did you miss Mala and Landry’s story? Please see the next page for an excerpt from Dark Paradise.
Chapter 1
Mala
Floater
Black mud oozes between my toes as I shift my weight and jerk on the rope, sending up a cloud of midges and the rotten-egg stench of stagnant swamp water. The edge of the damn crawfish trap lifts out of the water—like it’s sticking its mesh tongue out at me—and refuses to tear loose from the twisted roots of the cypress tree. It’s the same fight each and every time, only now the frayed rope will snap if I pull on it any harder. I have to decide whether to abandon what amounts to two days’ worth of suppers crawling along the bottom of that trap or wade deeper into the bayou and stick my hand in the dark, underwater crevice to pry it free.
Gators eat fingers. A cold chill runs down my spine at the thought, and I shiver, rubbing my arms. I search the algae-coated surface for ripples. The stagnant water appears calm. I didn’t have a problem wading into the bayou to set the trap. I’ve trapped and hunted in this bayou my entire life. Sure it’s smart to pay attention to my instincts, doing so has saved my life more times than I can count, but this soul-sucking fear is ridiculous.
I take a deep breath and pat the sheathed fillet knife attached to my belt. My motto is: Eat or do the eating. I personally like the last part. A growling belly tends to make me take all kinds of stupid risks, but this isn’t one. If I’m careful, a gator will find my bite cuts deeper than teeth if it tries to make me into a four-course meal. Grandmère Cora tried to teach her daughter that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Since Mama would rather fuck ’em than feed ’em, I inherited all the LaCroix family recipes, including a killer gator gumbo.
Sick of second-guessing myself, I slog deeper into the waist-high water. Halfway to the trap, warm mud wraps around my right ankle. My foot sticks deep, devoured. I can’t catch my balance. Crud, I’m sinking.
Ripples undulate across the surface of the water, spreading in my direction. My breath catches, and I fumble for the knife. Those aren’t natural waves. Something’s beneath the surface. Something big. I jerk on my leg, panting. With each heave, I sink deeper, unable to break the suction holding me prisoner. Gator equals death…But I’m still alive. So what is it? Why hasn’t it attacked?
A flash of white hits the corner of my eye—
Shit! I twist, waving the knife in front of me. My heart thuds. Sparkly lights fill my vision. Blinking rapidly, I shake my head. My mind shuts down. At first I can’t process what I’m seeing. It’s too awful. Too sickening. Then reality hits—hard. The scream explodes from my chest, and
I fling myself backward. The mud releases my leg with a slurp. Brackish water smacks my face, pouring into my open mouth as I go under. Mud and decayed plants reduce visibility below the surface.
Wrinkled, outstretched fingers wave at me in the current. The tip of a ragged fingernail brushes across my cheek. It snags in my hair. I bat at the hand, but I can’t free my hair from the girl’s grip. She’s holding me under. Trying to drown me. I can’t lift my head above the surface. She won’t let me go!
My legs flail, kicking the girl in the chest. She floats. I sit up, choking. I can’t breathe and scream at the same time. I’m panting, but I concentrate. Breathe in. Out. In. The girl drifts within touching distance. Floating. Not swimming. Why doesn’t she move? Is it stupid to pray for some sign of life—the rise of her chest, a kick from her leg—when I already know the truth?
Water laps at my chin. I wrap my arms around my legs. Shivers shake my body despite the warmth of the bayou, and my vision’s fuzzy around the edges. I’m hyperventilating. If I try to stand I’ll pass out. Or throw up. Probably both ’cause I’m queasy. I close my eyes, unable to look at the body any more. Which is so wrong. I’ve studied what to do in this sort of situation. Didn’t I spend a month memorizing the crime scene book I borrowed from Sheriff Keyes? Come on, Mala. Pull it together. A cop—even a future one—doesn’t get squeamish over seeing a corpse. If I can’t do something as simple as reporting the crime scene, well, then why not drop out of college, get hitched, and push out a dozen babies before I hit twenty-five, like everyone else in this damn town?
I lift my hands to scrub my face. Strands of algae lace my fingers. I pick them off. My legs tremble as I rise, which keeps me from running away. I have to describe the crime scene when I call the Sheriff’s Office, and I imagine myself peering through the lens of a giant magnifying glass like Sherlock Holmes—searching her body for clues. Each detail becomes crystal clear.