Jessica found herself sitting in the back of a van full of computer and tech equipment. A rugged-looking cowboy she recognized from the museum confrontation sat directly across from her.
The cowboy tipped his hat. “Name’s Rinehart, ma’am.” He spoke as if this were a casual meeting and she hadn’t been forced inside the vehicle. “You can take that gag off now.” He grinned. “And feel free to work those vocals and call Des as many names as you see fit. I imagine he pretty much deserves them all.”
A mixture of fear and confusion took hold as a sense of actually liking this man came over her. He was obviously trying to ease her apprehension. Despite that fact, this man should scare the hell out of her, as should all of her captors. So why did she feel her situation, simply her lack of control, scared her far more than this man or any of her captors for that matter?
She reached up and yanked away the tie. “Where’s Des?”
“He thought you might prefer he keep his distance.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Personally, I thought you’d want answers from him, not me.”
He was right, but she said, “I want answers, period.”
“And you’ll get them.”
“Just like that?” she asked. “I find that hard to believe, considering I was just gagged and thrown in the back of a van.” A choked laugh escaped her lips. “This is insane. It’s a bad dream. Any minute, I’m going to wake up and promise never to drink caffeine before bed.”
“I said that myself for damn near a hundred years.” He shrugged. “I keep waking up and nothing has changed, so I figure I’m needed in this particular nightmare.” He gave her a meaningful look. “I think maybe you are, too.”
Her brows dipped. What a bizarre thing to say. “I don’t understand any of this.”
His lips twitched. “I suspect you will soon.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Here’s the thing. We need your help. See, that journal is supposed to have a map to the—”
“The box holding the list of bloodlines,” she said flatly, anger starting to form. Now she understood. “You’re treasure hunters. I’m sure the box alone is worth a pretty penny to the right people.”
He jerked back as if slapped. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions and working yourself into a huff. This is about that list of bloodlines, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. If you believe in the legend of the journal, surely you believe in angels and demons. Because ultimately that is what that list of bloodlines is all about. Think about how dangerous that list would be in the wrong hands.”
Wait. Surely, he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying. “You’re saying demons are after the box.” It wasn’t a question because she was certain she misunderstood.
“You’ve entered into a battle as old as time. A battle of good versus evil.”
The craziness of this night grew with each passing second. “And I suppose you expect me to believe you’re the good guys.”
“That’s right.”
She shook her head and this time she laughed for real. “And those men who stole the journal are what? Demons?”
He didn’t look amused. “Not even close. They’re pawns in a demon’s game. I don’t doubt they think they’re acting on their own accord, but I promise you they aren’t.”
“So I’m supposed to believe a demon is controlling my boss, Greg, and that’s why he’s behaving so irrationally?”
“Greg is who Greg is. The demons simply took advantage of the evil that is already a part of their character. But the reason for Greg’s involvement comes down to necessity. A demon can’t touch that box without it self-destructing.”
“If you go by what my mother believed, human evil will be an issue, too.” She swallowed at the sudden dryness in her throat, frightened by how easily she’d shared that information, about how much she wanted to believe this man. “And what will you do with that list if you find it?”
“Protect it. Protect the family names it will identify.” The van came to a stop and Jessica stiffened. “We’re here,” he said.
“Where is here?” she asked, fingers curling around the bottom of the bench.
He slid off the seat, squatting, obviously preparing to open the back door. “Our temporary headquarters. We have your mom’s diaries locked up inside. Which, by the way, we weren’t trying to steal. We simply intercepted them before they were stolen.” He climbed out of the van and then offered her his hand. “Will you help us?”
She stared at his hand, not sure what to make of any of this. “How?”
“Help us find that box and the list,” he said. “The only map that existed was said to be inside the journal. No one knows your mother’s work as you do. The diaries could hold clues to the location of the box.”
Des appeared behind the cowboy named Rinehart, his dark eyes capturing hers. A sudden rush of adrenaline shot through her body. Jessica drew a deep breath, trying to calm down.
And when she spoke, despite looking at Rinehart, her words were meant for Des. “I make no promises to help, but I’ll read the diaries.” Her attention returned to Des. “But I won’t help unless I have reason to believe I should. Right now, I have no reason to trust you and every reason not to.”
She stared at Des, holding her breath, willing him to speak, to give her some sign, something that gave her hope. She didn’t even know what it would be, just that she needed it more than the breath she held. But he said nothing, gave her nothing. His dark eyes probed, lingered, seemed to see through to her soul.
His gaze lifted to Rinehart’s. “Take her to the back bedroom and give her the diaries.”
Jessica watched him turn away without another look in her direction, feeling as if she had been punched in the gut.
She’d been so sure what she’d felt with him had been special, and as real as anything in her life. It appeared she had no idea how to tell what was real and what was pretend. How was she supposed to trust her judgment from this point onward?
An auburn-haired beauty with full breasts and lush curves pressed tight against Segundo’s body, her soul lingering between worlds, feeding his hunger. Her will was no longer her own, but his. Soon the human male, Greg, would deliver the journal, and she would help him celebrate his prize.
Segundo stood on the balcony of his luxury hotel suite, damn near salivating at the thought of wielding the same power Adrian possessed. Soon, Cain would know who his true leader of the Beasts should be. Segundo would prove that he alone, not Adrian, had claimed the journal. And rightfully, he alone would hunt those bloodlines to honor Cain.
The sudden sound of a snarling Hell Hound, Black Dog in his beastly form, had Segundo pushing aside the female. The Hound eased from the darkness, white fangs dripping, red eyes fixed on Segundo.
He reached for his sword, ready to slit its throat if it attacked. Adrian’s new pets were a gift from Cain. Where there was a Hound, there was a master.
As if on cue, fire flashed in the air before Adrian appeared. His gaze went to Segundo’s hand where it rested on his weapon. “You would kill my pet?” he challenged. “The pet who saved your incompetent ass tonight?”
Segundo quickly retreated, taking a step backward. His hand left his weapon, a chill rushing over him. But he didn’t dare speak. Adrian might well cut out his tongue if he did so. Whatever trouble was about to blindside him, he had to take it in silence.
“Your human museum worker double-crossed you, Segundo. He has left with the journal, intent on finding that box himself.”
Segundo ground his teeth at this news. He’d kill Greg when he got his hands on that piece of shit. “I expected nothing less of him,” Segundo commented. “My unit will have the journal in an hour and the human will be disposed of.”
“My Hounds can smell betrayal in my enemies. What do you think Black Dog smells on you, Segundo?”
With a quick snap of his fingers, Adrian sent the Hound forward, charging at Segundo. His eyes went wide, his body tensing as he prepared for the impact, not d
aring to challenge his master’s pet.
The Hound slammed into him and he flew backward, landing with a hard thud. Huge clawed paws pressed into his chest. Slimy jaws settled inches from his face, rank breath biting at his nostrils. It took every ounce of control he owned not to reach for his blade and slice the creature’s neck.
Appearing in Segundo’s sight, Adrian glared down. “At a minimum, he smells your stupidity. No Beast can touch the box holding that list, you fool. We need this human.”
He waved his hand and the hound became a man, one booted foot on Segundo’s chest. “Black Dog watched Greg and waited for an opportunity,” Adrian stated. “He manipulated Greg with ease, tricking him into thinking he was a human who could serve Greg’s needs, when Greg is the one serving our needs. Even the Knights cannot sense Black Dog is not human. In you, they smell the stench I do—the stench of failure.”
The Knights couldn’t sense the Hounds because in human form, they were useless and possessed no magic. But Segundo didn’t vocalize his thought. The Knights would spay those Hounds without blinking, and then Adrian would see who had failed, and it would not be him.
Adrian glared at Segundo, his words spoken like a slap. “You and your unit will be the Hell Hounds’ backup.”
Segundo wanted to scream with fury. He would not back up a bunch of worthless Hounds! He’d kill every last one of those damn canines before this was over, starting with Black Dog.
“Your partnership with Black Dog can start tonight,” Adrian said. “His Hounds have tracked the Knights. I want them taken out so we can get on with business.”
Segundo yearned to tell him to go back to hell, to do his own dirty work. The truth of the matter was Adrian was forbidden from taking part in the actual foot-soldier wars. Just as his counterpart, Salvador, was forbidden from aiding the Knights in battle. But if he pointed that out, Segundo knew he wouldn’t live to see tomorrow.
Adrian motioned to the auburn-haired beauty who stood in the shadows, waiting to be called to duty. His gaze swept her body with primal heat before his attention shifted to his second-in-charge. “Excellent taste, Segundo.” His gaze returned to Black Dog. “She is your reward, my pet. For good service. Take her.”
An evil smile touched Black Dog’s lips, his eyes flashing red. A second later, he had the woman inside the hotel room, primal noises filtering into the air.
Segundo didn’t get up from where he lay, knowing Adrian wasn’t done with him. He couldn’t move until he was told to move. Tonight would be filled with pain. Pain he vowed to endure as he always had before. But when it was over, he would find a way to turn this around. To convince Cain this was part of his plan. And one day, he would return all the pain Adrian had caused him tenfold.
One day soon.
Chapter 13
An hour after leaving the museum, the screen door behind Des opened and shut. He turned to find Rinehart approaching. “Rock and his team just got back from the museum.”
Des had left Rock behind hoping for a lead on Greg’s location. Every wire they’d had on Greg was inactive. It was as if the man had fallen off the face of the earth. “Any luck?”
Rinehart held up a dagger. “They found this.” He handed it to Des. “Note the initials on the handle.”
Des frowned. “H.H.” He eyed Rock. “Any clue what it means?”
His lips settled into a grim line. “None. I’m going to do some research on it myself. Max is busy trying to track Greg and this Black Dog. He’s even checked credit-card activity and the OnStar computer linked to Greg’s car, and come up empty.”
Des had spent the last hour beating his head against an imaginary wall, trying to figure out answers to several serious dilemmas. One of which was how Black Dog, and now Greg, had evaded their resources. The other, a multitude of complex issues involving Jessica.
“Huh,” Des said, uncomfortable with the unknowns involving Max. He’d started to trust him but now he wasn’t sure. If Max was so good with technology, why couldn’t he nail this surveillance.
“What does ‘huh’ mean?” Rinehart asked, obviously encouraging Des to speak his thoughts out loud.
“It means I want you side by side with Max, making sure our bases are covered. I want you to be his shadow.”
Rinehart looked as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He retreated toward the door, pausing to look over his shoulder.
“There might be something in the diaries,” he said.
Which were with Jessica, and Rinehart knew as much. He also knew Des was avoiding her. Des drew in a long, calming breath. “I’ll handle it.”
Rinehart stared at him a moment and then gave a nod before disappearing into the house. Des watched his departure, forcing Jessica from his mind. Reporting their failed mission to Jag had to come first.
Des flipped open his phone and dialed, receiving voice mail on the other end. He left a message and waited, dreading the moment of truth.
The night had been filled with insanity. No, she was filled with insanity because Jessica really wanted to believe Des and his men were the good guys fighting evil.
She sat on the twin-size bed in the tiny bedroom she’d been in for the past hour, her mother’s diaries stacked around her. Though she’d barely skimmed the surface of the thousands of passages each book held, Jessica had confirmed what her father claimed. Her mother had believed that demons would come after the journal.
What Jessica didn’t understand was why her mother had been so secretive about her work. The thoughts her mother had merely hinted at in conversation ran much deeper in the diaries. It was clear she had been passionate about her beliefs—the words jumped off the page, full of conviction. Yet, she’d been quite selective about the bits she’d shared with Jessica.
Any other time, Jessica would have been absorbed by the task of scouring the diaries, to relive her mother’s work. But her thoughts were a jumbled mess that persisted in waylaying Jessica’s focus on her reading. Thoughts of Des and of her father—she wanted answers from Des and she needed to call her father. Her poor dad. He must be going insane with worry.
Setting the diary she held in her lap to the side, she shimmied off the bed and found her shoes. It was time to find out how much of a prisoner she really was here. Could she walk through that door without being stopped?
Sure enough, she turned the knob and found herself in the hallway. The sound of male voices drew her attention and she followed them. She’d seen the house upon entering and knew the men were likely gathered around the computers and televisions set up in the living-room area.
She glimpsed Rinehart and the man she’d met upon arriving called Max. Both oozed warrior-like power and dark danger. It was almost enough to make her turn and head back to the other room. Almost.
She straightened beneath their cutting gazes and delivered her words with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “I need to let my father know I’m safe.” They simply stared at her. She frowned, irritated at the lack of response and feeling a bit urgent to have them understand her circumstances. “If you really meant what you said and want my help, then I don’t see why this should be a problem.”
Rinehart finally spoke. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
Now she was upset. “Arrange?” she challenged. “What is there to arrange? You hand me a phone and I put my father out of the misery of worrying that I am dead.”
“It’s not that simple,” Rinehart countered.
“I see all this equipment you have,” Jessica said. “I know you can get me through without being traced. If you want to.”
Rinehart started to speak. “Ma’am—”
Suddenly, her hellish night slammed into her emotions. She deserved answers and by God, she would have them. “Am I a prisoner?”
“You will return home safely,” Rinehart said. “You have my word.”
She stared into his hard eyes and found nothing but blankness, but she desperately wanted to believe him. Maybe because it was easier than accepting she might
not ever go home again, that her life as she knew it was over. Because deep inside, she felt that to be the case, just as she had felt Des was a part of her destiny. None of this made sense. The urgency to understand built inside her.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she countered. “Right now, at this moment, am I a prisoner?”
Jag orbed onto the porch only seconds after Des had left a message on his voice mail. Des felt the shame of letting his friend and leader down, wishing he could crawl under a rock and hide. Instead, he met Jag’s gaze head-on. “I have failed you.”
“You have not nor will you ever fail me.”
Jag spoke the words with so much confidence that Des vowed to make them true. No one had ever believed in him as Jag did.
Long minutes later, he finished telling Jag of the past few days’ events, about the knife with the initials H.H. and about his plan to overcome the loss of the journal. “I brought Jessica here.”
“If anyone can find a path to that list of bloodlines, she would be the one,” Jag concluded, giving his approval of the decision. “Is she willing to help?”
“I believe she will. If I can earn her trust. She’s been through a lot and—” he hesitated, turning away, resting his arms on the wooden railing “—things between her and me got a little out of control.”
Jag was silent several seconds and then took up a position next to Des, his arms on the railing as well. “Are you telling me you got personally involved with a female?”
Des stared up at the moon, the stars glistening almost as if they laughed at him. “I don’t know what I did. I…yeah.” He glanced at Jag. “It just happened.”
“You’ve lived in this world of ours long enough to know nothing just happens.”
Mate. The word played in his mind, and he wondered if Jag knew the truth about Jessica. If his leader, his friend, knew that Jessica drew him beyond what another female could.
Knights of White Bundle Page 33