by Zeecé Lugo
The vampire flashed to the small bathroom behind the stairs and splashed cold water on his face. Holding to the sink as if it was a lifeline, he willed his heartbeat to slow down, and blanked his mind as if he were meditating. In the dark behind his eyes, he pictured Jonathan’s face and reached out with his awareness to find him in his mind-scape.
******
Max, Max! Help me. Save me! Jonathan fought the waves of hot pain and terror to concentrate on his plea to his friend and protector. He knew Max would be looking for him, that he would find him. That was the purpose of the blood bond they’d forged years ago. Now that he was conscious, the vampire would be able to zoom in on his location, a living, breathing GPS. The only obstacle would be distance. Jonathan prayed that he was not thousands of miles away.
Another wave of intense, mind-blasting pain shook his body, and Jonathan screamed and fought to maintain his awareness. He needed to stay awake to give Max any help he could.
Jonathan! the voice sounded clear in his mind. Where are you? What is happening to you? But the enemy’s grating voice, insistent and impatient, cut through the voice in his head, confusing Jonathan.
“Who hired you to investigate me? Who hired your firm to do the work?”
Jonathan gasped and tried to fill his lungs with air to puff through the pain as birthing women are taught to do.
Tell him. Max, connected to him, could hear everything.
He’ll want more. He’ll want everything. Once he has it, he’ll kill me anyway.
Give him a few things. Delay him. I will be there soon. You just need to hang on for a few hours. Max sounded so confident. It gave Jonathan strength.
Jonathan forced his eyes open. He watched as one of the brothers, the one called Felix, heated the sharp blade over a flame until the metal almost glowed. Then casually, as if it was something he did every day, he approached the once again suspended man and slowly pushed the glowing blade into the fleshy part of his thigh.
Jonathan’s high-pitched scream drowned out the sizzle as the hot metal slid through the flesh like a knife through butter. The blade seared and sealed the wound, keeping it from bleeding, but the burning pain became unbearable after the blade was removed. Jonathan threw up, spluttering and coughing as he struggled not to choke on his own vomit.
Fresh water was poured over him. The plastic tarp now covered in urine, vomit, and water, was removed, and a fresh one laid down. He watched through the roaring that the pain caused in his mind as Felix reheated the blade. The cuts had been moving higher and higher, the implication clear.
“Mr. Travers, soon the blade will get very close to your very delicate areas. Not only will the pain become unbearable, but permanent damage to those dear appendages will be done. Save yourself and tell me what I want to know.”
“Maxim... Pavel... Denisov,” Jonathan could barely think of the entire name in his fear and pain. He was having trouble pulling air into his lungs, the pressure that the weight of his body was exerting making it a great effort.
“What did you say?” asked Pretto, lifting a hand to stop Felix.
“The man... who hired me. His name is... Maxim... Pavel... Denisov.”
“A Russian name?” Pretto considered this for a moment in obvious surprise before addressing a quiet but observant Claus. “Go, do a search. See what you can find on this Maxim Pavel Denisov.”
“Maxim... is... strong,” Jonathan struggled to breathe and speak. “I... am... not. My body... will not... bear this. My heart... may give up... at any moment. What use... will I be ...to you...then?”
“I’m well aware of the situation, Mr. Travers. You’re a soft, cosseted, pretty boy groomed to the corporate law offices. Still, Felix is quite experienced at this. My aim is to extract what I need and no more. Just a few more questions, and you may rest. We’ll resume our chit-chat tomorrow. Now, why is this man, Denisov, interested in me?”
“If... I... answer, will you... give me... a few... hours’ rest?”
“I told you already, Mr. Travers. I do not want you dead. You will have a full night’s rest and warm food to regain your strength. I want answers.”
“He wants...to protect... the girl. He... just... wants to... keep her... safe.”
“Ah, very good. You see, Mr. Travers, how well this works. You give me something I want, and I give you something you want. This could turn into a real symbiotic relationship. You will get your needed rest now. However, tomorrow, we must have another little chat.”
Pretto signaled Felix who moved to lower their prisoner.
He knows who you are, Jonathan whispered in his mind. By tomorrow, they will know everything about you, Max.
That gives me tonight to do what I have to do, answered his friend.
CHAPTER 26
The girl was a new recruit, and Pretto always tested the new merchandise. Pretto held one arm tightly around the terrified teenage girl on his lap while his other hand delved under her shorts. He was talking to Felix, who watched the girl’s face closely for a reaction while he nursed his glass of scotch.
“To keep her safe. To protect her. This Russian has killed five of my men to keep a simple whore and her two brats safe. Why? What does he have to gain? Is he part of a new Russian organization trying to muscle into my part of the trade? Was it coincidence that brought them together?”
The girl whimpered as the questing finger entered her. Felix watched, leered, and squirmed in his seat. “We’ll find out soon enough,” he assured his boss. “Claus will ferret it out in his usual way. He’s a genius when it comes to that.”
“Yes, you’re right. Now, let’s see what we can teach this lovely girl. I do believe she’s eager to learn.”
******
Max was furious, feeling helpless and frustrated. In his anger and desperate need to rescue his friend, he had forged a quick, simple plan and gone full speed ahead with its implementation.
An hour after midnight, he’d left the small fishing boat anchored in the dark, cold water and spider climbed his way aboard the large, luxury yacht anchored two miles south of the Hudson River.
He moved with stealth and supernatural quiet, scanning with his excellent night vision. There was no one visible on the first deck, the night being cold. He knew that Jonathan was being held somewhere below. He found his way to the stairs going to the lower level, and he came up against the invisible barrier that no vampire could cross: the threshold.
Max was first confused, then devastated. How did he not figure it out? The yacht was a home to Pretto, as inviolable as any of his other homes would be. Jonathan was helpless. Unless he was invited, he could not enter.
A few hours later, Max arrived at Jonathan’s penthouse.
“I need help, Armand. I know where Jonathan is being held, but I need help to get to him.” Armand was Jonathan’s personal assistant, a fancy title for a trusted servant.
“Of course, Sir. Anything I can do. We have access to some pretty specialized contract help. What do we need?”
“We need to be able to get inside a yacht sitting two miles off shore without anyone inside spotting us. I need a couple of talented men who can get inside the yacht and let me in. I don’t know how many men are in the yacht; I know of three at least, but there must be more.”
Joseph took out his cell and began to scroll through it. “Mr. Travers has a trusted man who can handle this. He can get you anything you need. He spent twenty years in special forces and handles special projects for the firm. His name is Devian Harris.”
“How soon can you have him here?”
“Half an hour. He happens to be waiting for my call.”
“Call him.”
As much as Max hated to ask for help, he knew he had no choice. While his vampire nature him gave immense powers, it also saddled him with immense vulnerabilities. Now, he had another problem. The rescue would not take place tonight.
Jonathan would have to bear another day of torture, and use his wits to survive. He’d promised Jonathan that h
e’d get him out tonight, and he’d failed. What if his friend did not survive? How much information could he dole out without putting Angel and the children in danger?
Once the sun came up, Max would be trapped inside. Still, he would get a little sleep and use the time to place a fail-safe-plan in action. He would need to stay in Jonathan’s mind to help and guide him.
If things got shaky, he’d have to contact Angel and get her to run immediately. God, he hoped that did not happen. She was on her own now, trusting that she was finally safe, getting her domestic affairs in order, settling the children.
He hated to destroy her peace of mind and send her once again into the cold. He wanted her to believe him her savior, to trust in his power to keep her safe. He wanted nothing in her past to touch her again.
Yet, his failure to destroy her enemy tonight, might just put her in Pretto’s sight again. He must get Jonathan to keep Pretto focused on Max and not on Angel. One more day, that’s all he needed. It all depended on Jonathan now.
******
Devian Harris was not a handsome man. His face was pitted with deep, dark acne scars left over from his youth. His very dark, small, black eyes were set deep under dark, bushy brows. His nose, squat and wide, looked like it had been broken a few times. He sported about a week’s growth of facial hair, but his head was clean shaven.
His body was something else. Hard muscle rippled when he moved. There was not an ounce of fat on the man who had obviously been a career soldier. His black cargo pants accentuated the slim waist and muscular thighs. The black, skin-tight commando t-shirt looked ready to burst at the shoulder and chest. It hugged the torso closely over the very defined six-pack. It seemed that fortune, in its usual fickle play of irony, had given him a perfect body to make up for an imperfect face.
The man did have presence, Max had to admit. He might be butt-ugly, but he had a beguiling personality. The eye could not help but follow him as he moved and talked. Interestingly, his speech was precise and formal, that of a man who was educated and proud of it.
“We must plan for the worst. We know the type of vessel and the minimum number of crewmen it needs is eight to ten. It is safe to assume that Pretto, his two lieutenants and his manservant are not part of the crew. He must also have a security team. It would be logical to expect at least twelve, possibly sixteen people presently on the yacht.”
“That’s a sizable number,” remarked Armand.
“It is, but it is a good estimate that half of those will be little threat and easily incapacitated. You have the cook, cleaning staff, mechanical staff, the servant. Those trained to security and body guarding are a different story.”
“I can handle anything that comes at me once I’m in,” said Max. “I just need you to get me in.”
“I’m somewhat confused, Mr. Denisov. You need me to get you in? That’s the simplest task of all. Why do you need me at all?”
Max squirmed in his seat, his eyes flickering to Armand. How do you explain to a man that you can’t cross a home’s threshold because you’re a vampire?
“What I mean is that once I’m in the vessel, I intend to make my way as fast as I can to where Jonathan is being held in a lower, aft cabin. I aim to get to him before they’re aware that the yacht has been compromised. I will need you to clear every other deck and make sure no one disturbs my operation. I intend to deal with Mr. Pretto and his two lieutenants decisively and privately. They’re mine.”
Devian Harris nodded. “That, I can understand, Mr. Denisov. It is personal for you. This man has threatened the security of those you hold dear.”
“As soon as you have Jonathan, I will take him from you and leave you to deal out the punishment,” said Armand.
“What? No, absolutely no way is a civilian, and one not in his prime, going on this operation. I draw the line at that,” exclaimed Harris.
Max hated that he needed Armand there. Only Armand knew that Max must be verbally invited to enter. The words “You may enter or please, come in,” must actually be said directly to the vampire. How could he explain to Harris that he could not cross from the deck to the stairs without being invited without telling him why?
“Jonathan is in a terrible condition. He will be naked, vulnerable, in need of reassurance, first aid, and the support of someone he trusts. He will need someone to help him walk. Surely, you will not waste a fighting man doing that.”
Harris saw the logic of Max’s argument. They were breaching the vessel with a team of six, and that included him. Of course, they were men he trusted with his life, highly trained and loyal to him, but they could be up against three times that number.
“He’ll be with you, then. It will be your job to keep him alive.”
“I will clear the bottom deck, retrieve Jonathan, and keep both him and Armand safe. You and your men have the other three decks.”
“You know that the body count may end up quite high. These men are the worst of the worst. They will be armed to the teeth with state of the art weaponry. A luxury vessel worth millions of dollars must be defended from pirate attacks, drug runners, and in this case, competitors. They may even be expecting us.” Harris was a cautious man.
“No, he’s not expecting us. Pretto has no idea that we are coming. He’s quite confident that he’s the one with the edge. He would never have come so close to shore had he thought there was danger,” answered Max.
“How do you know that? How did you get the intelligence? I’m trusting you because I have no other choice. Jonathan is being held, and I owe my allegiance to him as my friend and employer. How do we know he’s on that vessel? How do we know he’s still alive? How do we know that this isn’t a trap?”
“I can’t tell you how,” Max raised his voice in exasperation. “The information comes from highly placed sources, from people spying on him electronically and domestically. People whose lives would not be worth two pennies if they were suspected.” Max watched Armand’s eyes flash with suppressed laughter at the blatant lies that so easily flowed from Max’s lips.
“All right,” accepted Harris unwillingly. “Not my usual modus operandi, but I will accept the situation for Jonathan’s sake.”
CHAPTER 27
Jonathan slept like the dead. The punishment his body had endured had depleted his physical strength. The lingering pain should have kept him from sleep in torture and misery all night. It was a blessing of which he was unaware, but the dinner brought to him had been drugged to knock him out for hours, allowing him a desperately needed rest.
It was almost noon when a kick to the ribs awakened him. Disoriented and groggy, he opened his eyes to a new day of torture.
A half-hour later, he was again naked, stretched out on a long, folding table. His arms were pulled tightly out, one wrist wrapped in rope which was pulled taut under the table to wrap around his other wrist. His legs were spread out and his ankles tied to the corner legs of the table.
At the foot of the table, Felix played with a silver lighter, clicking it on and off.
“Today, we have something different for you,” said Pretto as he tapped a cigarette out of a box of Newports, brought it to his lips, and waited for Felix to light it. He took a deep drag and tilted his head to blow out three perfectly formed smoke rings. “A nasty habit, most will say, but any habit is nasty if uncontrolled, Mr. Travers. Don’t you agree?”
Jonathan knew it was a hypothetical question. He concentrated on taking his own deep, controlled breaths and keeping calm. He closed his eyes and pictured Max, his thoughts reaching out to the vampire. Max, it’s about to start again. Fire, they will use fire. Oh, God, I’m terrified of burning.
Max had dozed off for an hour or two of rest, but his eyes snapped wide open as Jonathan’s cry came through loud and clear. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his eyes vacant and fixed somewhere in space as he connected with his friend. I’m here. I won’t let go. We can do this, together. I will connect with you deeply and try to help you as much as I can.
&n
bsp; “Mr. Travers, let’s see if we can work faster today. Just like before, the moment I have what I want, you will be taken to your quarters and allowed to eat and rest. As long as I don’t get what I want, the punishment will continue and increase in intensity. Do you understand?”
Jonathan nodded, his pupils dilated, his heart beating too fast.
“Where is Angelica Ferrars?”
“I don’t know. I deal with Denisov. He always comes to me. I’ve never seen her.”
The burning took a few seconds to register, the hot pain a few seconds longer to reach peak intensity. Felix’s iron hold clamped around the ankle so that his victim was unable to escape the searing flame even by a centimeter. When the smell of searing flesh reached his nostrils, Jonathan’s eyes rolled up into his head and his body began to shake uncontrollably. Tears rolled down the corners of his eyes.
“Wrong answer, Mr. Travers. I did not ask if you’d seen her. I asked about her location. Is she with Denisov and, if so, where? Or does he have her stashed somewhere else? A safe house, perhaps?”
Max kept himself connected to Jonathan’s mind. He heard every word and quickly gave his friend a response. He knows we are not stupid, Jonathan. Tell him that I have many possible places. Give him a list that will take him time to check out. He’ll have to keep you alive until he knows for sure.
Jonathan, through the filter of his agony, tried to sound convincing. He knew his life depended on it, but he was having trouble breathing.
“Denisov... is a very... rich... and discreet... man.... He has several people... who do for him... the same things... I do. He would never... place... the girl... at risk by telling anyone...where...she is, but... I know... of several... possible locations. Places... he owns... or leases... secretly... and we manage.”