Chloe stared first at the battered face, then at the tattoo on the man’s chest, half-hidden in the blood from his reopened wound. “What’s that?”
Sam hesitated a moment, but then answered her. “His—I guess you could call them a gang—all wear that mark. If you see someone with it, run.”
Chloe looked again, memorizing the design. She edged toward the man, at least until Sam put out a hand to keep her from getting too close.
“It’s not a gang,” the man said, bloody lips curling away from his teeth. “We are the Knights of Vidon.”
“Be quiet,” Sam ordered. “I’ll let you know when it’s time for you to speak.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes, taking in every detail of the tattoo, the clothing. If this was the enemy, she wanted to know how to recognize their kind. In return, the prisoner gave her a long, long look that lingered on her skin like rancid oil.
She felt her cheeks heating. “What’s your problem?”
“You keep staring at me.” He had an accent. Not Italian, but not entirely unlike that, either. “You like what you see?”
“You almost killed me in my own bed. I’m trying to see that in your face.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Every one of us is a killer. Every face is a killer’s face.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you haven’t suffered enough.”
A flash of rage curled her fingers into fists. “I’ve never done anything to you!”
“You’re with them. That is enough.” The look he gave Sam dripped with loathing so virulent that Chloe instinctively reached for the butt of her gun. He was tied up, but that much hate had power.
Sam had gone pale. “Chloe, you should leave.”
“Why?”
“You don’t need to hear his nonsense.”
“How do I know it’s nonsense?” Her voice was bitter.
The man in the chair laughed. “She has no idea what she might learn, does she?”
Sam glanced at her quickly, not taking his eyes off the prisoner for more than a second. “Trust me. Let me handle him. I’ve done this before.”
“I haven’t,” Chloe said. “But if he killed Jack, I’ll hold him down for you while you ask questions.”
The man stopped laughing. A sick satisfaction shot through her. She had spoiled his mockery. Or had she? A sly look came over his face.
“You don’t know what he is, do you?” The words were for Chloe, but he looked at Sam as he said it.
Sam’s fists balled tight. “Silence!”
“He’s the one who saved my life,” Chloe said quietly.
“For now. It won’t last. Sooner or later, they always show their true faces. Killer faces.”
Sam’s hand moved too fast to see. He struck openhandedly, the crack of skin on skin echoing in the small room. The man’s head snapped to the side, the chair rocking with the momentum.
“Sam!” Chloe gasped, then felt foolish.
Sam had slapped him. It was nothing, given that the man had tried to kill her. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch.
“What’s your name?” Sam demanded.
“Pietro.” He spit blood to the floor, missing Chloe’s shoes by inches.
She felt sick, a hot wave of dizziness rolling through her. “Pietro what?”
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “We perform our mission to keep the throne of Vidon free of the Devil’s influence.” The toneless statement sounded like the equivalent of name, rank and serial number.
“Then why are you in league with Winspear?” Sam snarled, clearly struggling for control of his temper.
“Winspear?” Chloe backed away. “What are you talking about?”
Sam gave her a pained glance. “He was the one who took the dress.”
Chloe reeled. She’d hardly spoken to the doctor. He’d been too solemn, too withdrawn to invite even casual interaction, but he hadn’t seemed treacherous. Every face is a killer’s face. Could that be true?
She didn’t know because she hadn’t seen her attacker’s face. She’d exchanged so few words with Mark Winspear that she wouldn’t recognize his voice. But the doctor wasn’t as big as Sam, and whoever had thrown her had been incredibly strong.
Sam grabbed the man’s jaw, forcing him to look straight into Sam’s eyes. “How is Winspear involved?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words were distorted by Sam’s hand.
Chloe watched Sam’s expression. There was deep sadness in his face. Her chest ached for him. “Are you sure that was Dr. Winspear? I couldn’t see his face.”
Sam gave a single nod. “I’m sure.”
Chloe took a step back. She tried to picture the doctor shooting at Sam, and it just didn’t fit.
“How did you know the diamonds were here?” Sam asked Pietro, removing his hand from the man’s face.
Pietro worked his jaw as if it hurt. “Little birds listen at keyholes. For a price, they may open the door.”
“Will Tyler?” Sam named the security guard who had become the getaway driver, and then had become dead.
Pietro’s head was hanging forward, his chin on his chest. He looked up, moving only his eyes.
Sweat trickled down Chloe’s sides, slithering over her ribs. Had Tyler known Pietro would try to kill her?
The prisoner laughed. “That kind always wants more than they have. For a price they’ll leave the door unlocked.” His gaze slid toward her. “But believe me, sweet girl, that’s not the worst of your problems. This movie is far from over.”
The words made Chloe draw in a quick breath that caught Sam’s attention. He took her hand, pulling her to his side. It was a wordless gesture of comfort, putting her securely in the circle of safety he offered. She locked her fingers through his.
Sam pulled out his phone and thumbed a key. Chloe heard someone pick up and thought she recognized Faran’s voice. “I’m in the laundry room, with Chloe. Where are you?”
Chloe locked eyes with Pietro, trying to read his face. All she could see was spite. She couldn’t trust a thing that came out of his mouth.
Sam was still talking. “Then get down here. I’ve got a package.” He put the phone away.
Package? She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or shudder at the innocent-sounding phrase. She turned to Sam. “What happens now?”
Sam leaned against the dryer. “Now? Now Kenyon comes.”
“He’s not...like the doctor.” She remembered Lexie’s warnings about Faran.
“No,” Sam replied. “He’ll take you back to your room.”
“Does he know about any of this?”
Sam frowned. Thoughts she couldn’t read flitted across his features. “Don’t say a word about what you’ve seen here. Not even to him or to your photographer friend. Anything you might say puts them deeper into danger.”
Chloe’s skin went cold. “Okay.”
The prisoner gave a derisive snort.
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Are you going to go on questioning him?”
Pietro tried hard not to look up at Sam, tried to pull his chin down and stare at the floor some more, but fear won out. Sam continued to lean, looking almost bored.
“I’ll find out who killed Jack. I’ll give you their heads on a platter.”
The way he said it make Chloe shiver. “Where do the police come into this?”
Sam looked at her, his face like stone. “I am the police.”
“What?” She pulled away, tingling with surprise. “I thought you worked security for Uncle Jack.”
“Call the FBI or the CIA. Ask for someone who deals with international crimes. Mentioning Jack’s name should get you someone in charge. They’ll confirm that I have authority to handle this.”
That shocked her. “Seriously? Jack never said anything about ties to those agencies.”
“Because you aren’t supposed to know. It’s that simple.”
Chloe swore under her breath. That explained so much—Jack’s secrecy, his obsession with weapons, and his connection to men like Sam. And I’ve been trying to spy on these guys? A sudden wave of embarrassment heated her cheeks.
Sam straightened, scowling down at the man tied to the chair. “Chloe, the business with the diamonds is the tip of an iceberg. There’s a lot more underneath.”
The prisoner tilted his head back to look Sam full in the face. “Good luck figuring it out.”
Sam smiled. “I have all night.”
* * *
Unfortunately, Sam’s night got more complicated.
Kenyon came, clearly curious, but took Chloe back to her bedroom. Moments later, Carter arrived.
Sam’s maker strolled around the laundry room, hands behind his back. He was hiding a slight limp, but Sam knew Carter well enough to see it. An injury? Unusual, for a fast-healing vampire. One might say a coincidence.
Ugly suspicions fluttered through Sam’s mind.
“So, you’ve got yourself a plaything, my boy,” said Sam’s sire. “Do you think he will be tasty?”
“Knights never stay with me. I’ll want another in half an hour.”
“Perhaps we can arrange something.” Carter paused to consider Pietro as if he were a steak on the grill.
The prisoner was starting to look less defiant and more fearful. He tracked Carter’s every move.
“So your ruse with the wedding dress worked?” Carter asked.
“Yes. And you were right,” Sam replied, keeping his voice controlled and even. “Winspear took it.”
“Did he now?” Carter’s thick eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good agent until this. A bit fond of having his own way, but he always got the job done in the end.”
“I thought he was my friend.”
Carter shook his head. “Since when do monsters have friends? We have honor. We have duty. The rest is only memory of what we were.”
“This one has a ladylove, boss man,” Pietro said, sneering. “She doesn’t know what he is.”
“Be quiet!” Sam snarled.
Carter gave both of them a sharp look, but settled his piercing eyes on the prisoner. “I would hold your tongue until we ask you to speak. You’ll be singing soon enough.”
But Pietro was done with obedience. He returned Carter’s gaze, eyes wild with fear and hatred. “You’re going to kill me anyhow, right? I may as well ask a few questions of my own. Who is this Winspear? What’s he got to do with anything?”
“You think he’d give you his real name, you clot?” Carter rested a hand on the man’s head and looked up at Sam. “So who is the woman?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on Jack’s niece.”
“You know the rules.”
“I do. There is nothing between us.”
“You’ve always been a terrible liar.”
Pietro sniggered. “But that’s what you’re all best at, isn’t it? Everything about you is a lie. Isn’t that right, boss?”
“I wish you would be quiet,” Carter sighed, and snapped the man’s neck.
The sudden pop startled Sam. “I needed to question him!”
Carter gave a faint smile. “He didn’t seem the helpful type.”
Sam stared at the limp body, slumped against his bonds. “As you say.” He had the sudden conviction that Pietro, helpful or not, knew far more than Carter had liked.
Sam was going to have to play this carefully. Carter was old and wily and knew him far too well.
“About that dress,” Carter said, wiping his hands on the thick twill fabric of his pants. “I could take it now if you like.”
“I don’t have the combination to the safe,” Sam replied. “Only Jack’s niece has that.”
He couldn’t have been that bad a liar, because Carter bought it.
Chapter 21
Chloe didn’t know what to think.
Last night had been something of a turning point, or maybe it was simply a realization.
Sam wasn’t just a bodyguard, a security expert. He was something more. Incredibly dangerous, for a start, with the blessing of some of the most powerful crime-fighting agencies in the world. Being close to him was, as the old saying went, like having a tiger by the tail. It was a wild, perilous ride.
Who is Sam, really? That was the question of the hour.
Restless, Chloe picked up her laptop and wandered through the house, looking for someplace that didn’t remind her of darkness and danger. She drifted until she found the breakfast room. It was more a glassed-in porch than a proper room, filled with plants and light. Chloe sat down at the wicker table, enjoying the warmth of a sunbeam on her back. A window was open, and she smelled the clean, fresh scent of greenery as the wind ruffled the curtains.
It was exactly what she needed. Chloe closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her eyelids, trying to stave off the headache threatening to invade. Her head still hurt from whacking it against the iron post of the gazebo.
“Hey,” said a husky female voice.
Chloe looked up at the sound, blinking the room back into focus. Alexis Haven stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. Chloe started in surprise.
A grin spread over her friend’s face. “Gotcha.”
“Lexie!”
“Live and in person. How are you doing, Chlo?”
Chloe jumped up with a whoop, throwing her arms around her friend and just about spilling the coffee. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“Right back at you!”
Chloe released her friend, holding her at arm’s length for a good look. The photographer was tall and slender to the point of skinny. It wasn’t from dieting so much as moving too fast for any ordinary metabolism to keep up. She had bright hazel-green eyes and a fall of dark red hair that swept her hips. With the artless grace of the true bohemian, she wore no makeup, a shapeless khaki tunic dress and hiking boots that laced up to her knees—and somehow managed to make it look fabulous.
“How are you?” Chloe asked, giving her another hug before she let her go. “How was your flight?”
“I’m fine.” Lexie’s smile was crooked. “I tried to call last night, but kept getting your voice mail.”
“Sorry, I was out.”
They sat at the table.
“Good time?” Lexie asked.
“Hard to say. I don’t remember a lot of what happened.”
In truth, her memory was fine until she got to the part where she was on top of the gazebo shooting at Jack’s so-called friend who had turned out to be one of the villains. Then it just seemed like a bad dream. Mark Winspear? How is that even possible? She was usually better at reading people. The doctor was a bit scary, but he hadn’t struck her as evil. Somehow his betrayal had made more sense last night, when she wasn’t sitting in a sunny, bright room.
“Sam and I were chasing bad guys last night.”
“Whoa!” Lexie set down her coffee and scrunched her eyebrows together. “You and Sam, huh?”
“Yes.” Chloe waved her hands helplessly. “I don’t want it to be real. I don’t do that kind of thing. I’m the girl who spends hours worrying about centerpieces and place cards.”
“I’m not so sure that’s all you are. I remember your uncle was pretty nuts about making sure you knew how to take care of yourself. You’re a better shot than me.”
Queasiness lurched through her. “I’m not sure I want to talk about shooting right now.” How many people had she hit? One? Two?
Lexie was watching her face, clearly trying to read her thought
s. “We all have sides of ourselves we keep locked away until they’re needed.”
“This guy...” Chloe stopped, considering how crazy she wanted to sound. “This man threw me through the air like a toy.”
An angry flush crept over Lexie’s cheeks. “Are you hurt?”
“Bruised.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“Almost, but I don’t think I have a concussion.”
But what about her memory of Sam leaping on top of the gazebo? Sam running faster than her eye could follow? That flash of sharp, sharp teeth? Those had to be hallucinations. She was turning him, in her panicked imagination, into some sort of avenging beast. That’s it. I’m finally cracking up.
Lexie reached across the table and felt Chloe’s forehead. “I don’t know, Chlo. You look pale as a mushroom. You feel a little feverish, too.”
“I’m tougher than a bump on the head. I’ve been orphaned. I’ve been left at the altar. I’ve faced down Iris Fallon.”
Lexie laughed at the last one. “Okay, Iris Fallon is proof positive you can take whatever life dishes out.”
Chloe made an exasperated noise. “Until I met Sam Ralston. He’s turned me into a basket case in a matter of days.”
Lexie’s mouth curled into a feline smirk. “He’s got a little more oomph than you usually go for.”
“Oomph?”
“You know. Swagger. Danger. Suits cut to hide the sidearms. It’s an acquired taste, but you never go back.”
That was what she was afraid of. “I always wanted a nice, quiet guy who liked antiquing and family picnics.”
Lexie kept a neutral face. “Nice.”
“I like nice.”
“Nice is good. Nice is underrated.”
“I think I want...” I want my avenging beast.
“Not nice?”
“A garnish. A bit of spice on the side.” Chloe held up her thumb and forefinger, showing a sliver of air between. As she thought about Sam, the space widened. She wanted more than a little of whatever made him...him.
Lexie rolled her eyes. “Whoa, look at the wild child bursting out of her shell.”
“Don’t mock.”
Her friend was suddenly serious. “I’m not mocking. I’m worried, Chloe. You had a close call. You got into something deeper than you were expecting. Remember I said I didn’t trust your uncle’s friends? Spice comes with a price.”
Possessed by a Warrior Page 17