Poor Tony hadn’t stood a chance against the six armed men who’d invaded the cheery home. It had been over in seconds, with Tony obviously dead and Matti having to now live with the horror of seeing his father killed in front of him. And that hadn’t been the end of the surprises. Apparently robbery wasn’t the point of this evil madness. They wanted Dafydd and the baby for God-only-knew what reason. No, that wasn’t true. Dafydd understood and, whatever awaited him, death was preferable.
Now Merlin, who had practically flown down the stairs, wanted to go with them. He’d always thought the kid was kind of a jerk, but this made no sense. Why attack his own family member to join these murderous assholes? At least Demi wasn’t dead. Demi…who had leaped from the second story and landed like a cat that had more than nine lives to spare. How had that been possible? And had those been fangs he’d seen protruding from the boy’s mouth when he’d uttered a sound that was nothing human? He’d looked and sounded like a B-movie vampire before Merlin had knocked him out. It wasn’t possible, though. That was terror playing tricks on his mind. He reached for the spot on his neck that still had a bit of a scab. Is it?
It hardly mattered, because the reality of the situation was that Dafydd and Idris were being kidnapped. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it except sit there and watch it happen and hope that the fact that none of these men were wearing any masks didn’t mean they intended to kill all the witnesses. He felt helpless and longed for Christos. Except no, when he thought about it, he wanted his boyfriend to stay as far away from here as possible. Otherwise, he’d surely end up as dead as Tony.
“We’re not the foreign legion, kid,” the man who seemed in charge of the invaders said. “We don’t take recruits.”
Merlin smiled. “But I’m one of Dracul’s soldiers. I’ve been held here against my will and have been looking for a way back to him. He’ll want me and so will you. I’m like him,” he added, jerking his head toward Demi. “Only, you know, better. Obviously.”
“Merlin, no.” Alun left the spot he’d been rooted to since the invasion had begun. He approached his son with more courage than Mateo would have thought possible. “That’s not who you are anymore.”
“A fucking lot you know, slut. You were never anything more than a convenient hole for my sire to stick his dick in.” The men laughed.
Alun’s head jerked as if he’d been slapped. Then he took a visibly large breath, threw his shoulders back and continued to walk toward Merlin. “You will not go with them.”
Without any warning, Merlin leaped at his father and, grabbing him by the neck, propelled them both across the kitchen area. Given the distance they covered, it looked as if they’d almost flown, one more indication that these were not humans. It was almost not shocking at this point. The thud when Alun hit the far wall made Mateo wince. Merlin pressed his lips close to his father’s ear and, although they moved, Mateo couldn’t hear anything. The next instant, Merlin banged Alun’s head against the plaster. The poor man cried out before sliding down to the floor. Merlin released his hold before his father had landed and walked away with a satisfied grin on his sick face.
“Sorry about that,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Shall we go?”
The leader gave him an assessing look. “Maybe you can come, but I still need one more package for Dracul.” He eyed Mateo. “This one looks like he fits the description. A Welsh kid. You’re Brenin, aren’t you, pretty boy?”
Having the attention on him sent a new wave of terror coursing through Mateo. He shrank into the cushions, unable to form a response. He had met Brenin and understood the confusion. There was a superficial resemblance, he supposed. Thank God the boy was with his man at Our Safe Place. Hopefully, these men would leave without him—or even better, linger long enough for help to arrive. No one had had the chance to call the police. It had all happened so quickly and there were too many pairs of eyes keeping watch to try it now. Surely someone had heard the explosion and maybe the burst of gun fire. Although the more he thought of it, the more he wondered why no one had come yet. Surely, even if they hadn’t heard anything else, the sound of the alarm going off for a few minutes would have reached the club. Maybe not. The music was loud and the sound-proofing in both buildings was excellent.
“Answer me, cocksucker!” The demand was punctuated with a gun being pointed right at Mateo.
“No, he’s not,” Dafydd called out before Mateo could deny it. “That’s not Brenin.”
The man pulled his gun back and swore. “Fuck yeah? Well, we’ll have to search the rest of the building, because my balls are on the line if I don’t bring him along. Get those two out,” he added to the one holding Dafydd.
Merlin’s eyes went wide as the man headed for the stairs. He caught Mateo’s gaze and shook his head only slightly. Then he started humming, low under his breath. Let It Go. Mateo got the drift. Annika was up there. What would these men do to that beautiful young girl when they found in her in a quest for someone who wasn’t even there? Mateo nodded at Merlin, giving him approval to sacrifice him, because if it came down to his own safety versus that of another child, he’d take the hit. It was the easiest decision he’d ever made in his life.
“Wait,” Merlin called out. “He’s lying. This is Brenin all right.”
With a grunt, the man turned and marching back to the couch, grabbed Mateo and hauled him to his feet. “Is that true? Are you the Welsh kid I’m looking for?”
His heart lodged in his throat, but he dug deep for a courage he didn’t know he possessed and nodded. “I am, yes.” He tried to mimic that accent he’d heard the Welshmen use.
It must have been good enough, because the man dragged him to the door. “That’s it. We’re out of here. The diversion next door won’t last forever.” Oh God, what does that mean? “Okay, kid, you’ve been useful,” he said to Merlin. “You can come. Give me any trouble and I’ll plug you right between the eyes.”
“Yes, sir.” Merlin dutifully fell into step with the others.
As Mateo was hustled outside, the sound of gunfire met his ears. It was coming from the club and Mateo nearly doubled over from the sudden understanding of why Christos and the rest of the family members hadn’t come to their rescue. Two SUVs with tinted windows idled at the mouth of the alley.
“Aren’t we going to wait for the others?” one of the men said.
Shoving Mateo into the back seat of the first vehicle, the leader replied, “Naw, they’re already dead. They were never going to make it back. We were the real mission. They were a distraction. More Krugerrands for us, huh, boys?”
They all laughed at that as they climbed into the vehicles. Mateo was forced to scoot over to allow Merlin to sit next to him with Dafydd and Idris in the far back. Instinctively he turned to put his seat belt on, and that was when he saw Christos. The man was running out of the club toward them. His mouth was wide open with teeth bared and he was moving with a speed that almost made him blurry. He held guns in both hands. Mateo clutched the back of his seat and silently called out to him.
The SUV lurched into motion, however, and Mateo knew that all was lost. No way could Christos keep up with them. He didn’t even want him to. The odds were now eight to one, counting the two drivers who’d been waiting outside—and an SUV with four men weaved between the one he rode in and the pursuing Christos. With everyone armed, those guns Christos carried wouldn’t mean anything. Mateo craned his neck to get the last glimpse of his man through the sea of passengers and glass before they were separated, perhaps forever. Surprisingly, Christos was still on their tail, his legs pumping like pistons, his mouth remained wide open, as if he were screaming. A faint roaring sound reached Mateo’s ears.
Then he watched in horror as the men in the second vehicle lowered their windows and fired. “No!” he screamed and tried to scramble over the seat, as if there were anything he could actually do to help.
Merlin grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn back around. “Knock it off, Br
enin. You’re not doing yourself or anyone else any favors.”
Mateo balled his hands into fists, but the look on Merlin’s face was not unkind and he’d let go of him. So he settled for twisting his head to get another look at what was happening instead of hitting the boy. Christos was gone and the men had pulled their heads and arms back into the vehicle. He strained to see if a body lay on the street but he couldn’t tell.
Holding back tears—because he would not give these motherfuckers the satisfaction of crying—he turned his face to the front again. As they raced through the city, cop cars and emergency vehicles passed them. God, the man had said ‘a diversion’. And with all that gunfire he’d heard, it must mean that they had attacked the club in force. How many were dead? At least Christos had survived that battle. Was he lying dead anyway in the fruitless effort to save Mateo? He had to believe his man wasn’t, that it was lack of speed that had finally caused him to drop back. Anything else was intolerable. The hope that his boyfriend still lived would have to satisfy him, even if his own life was forfeit—or maybe not. He might simply be on his way to some foreign brothel.
And who in the world is this Dracul everyone keeps talking about, anyway?
He jumped and let out a scream when a large object landed on the front of the SUV. No, not a thing, a man. Better than that…Christos! The man clung to the hinge of the hood, his teeth bared as before, except now Mateo could see the fangs. And Christos’ eyes were red as he stared directly at Mateo. The driver swerved back and forth to fling him clear. Nothing doing. Christos never lost his grip, even when his legs swung off for a few seconds.
“Come on and shoot the fucker,” the driver yelled at his boss.
“I’ve got a better idea.” So saying, the man twisted to point his gun directly at Mateo. He held up the other hand in front of the windshield with three fingers showing. “One.” He bent a knuckle. “Two.” He did the same to a second one.
He never got to three. Christos leaped off the SUV and disappeared into the night. A quick look around confirmed that he hadn’t resumed his chase of the vehicles. Thank God. If he had, surely someone would have fired at him by simply lowering a window again. This way, at least Mateo knew Christos was alive, and Christos knew the same about him. It would have to be enough—for now.
The man in the front seat grinned before pulling his gun away from Mateo’s face. “The boss was right. These guys have a soft spot for civilians. Head directly to the landing strip, but don’t speed. You got to figure most of the Boston cops are busy dealing with the carnage back there, but we still don’t want any trouble.”
Mateo curled away as best he could from Merlin, not sure of what the kid was up to and wanting as much space to himself as he could manage. His brain was misfiring from all the shocking information he had to process. There was no question now that all of that teasing about where Christos had come from and being a vampire hadn’t been so funny after all. It hurt to think that any of this was real. Maybe he’d been sick all this time and was in some kind of weird coma-state or something. He pinched his arm, just to see if it hurt.
And fuck yeah, it did. This was actually happening, and the sooner he accepted that and started making plans on how to get out of it, the better. He’d survived worse. Well, maybe not worse, but bad stuff had happened to him and he knew he was tough. These men with guns were just that—men. He knew how to deal with them.
Gathering his courage, he said, “So where are you taking us, Daddy?” He put as much Welsh-sounding sugar in his tone as he could and silently asked Christos for his forgiveness.
This was about survival, and he bet that like Hawkeye in The Last of the Mohicans, Christos would find him, no matter what. He’d called Mateo ‘his love’ and he had to believe his man had meant it. He also wished he’d mounted the courage to say the words back. It had seemed too soon to make such a commitment, to agree to return to Greece with him and give up the only life he’d known, shitty as it had been. So he’d kept quiet, while making plans that might never occur now. There was nothing to be done about that, and his only job at this point was to stay alive to be there to greet Christos when he found him.
The leader turned his head and sneered. “Pretty cunts need to keep their mouths shut or I’ll find something to stuff it with, and it won’t be my cock.” He nodded at a spot behind Mateo’s head.
A slap sent him reeling against the window a second later. He got the message.
* * * *
Christos leaped from the roof of the building that housed the family and landed in the alley between it and the club. He’d been forced to go vertical to make his way back as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion. He still seethed at how he’d failed. All he could do now, though, was see how bad things were, both in the home and the club. The emergency vehicles had already begun arriving. It seemed as if every cop and ambulance in Boston had been dispatched to the scene. He quickly ducked and headed to the family building, scared to death of what he would find.
They have Mateo was all he could think, though, as he pursued his terrible duty. Although it made no sense to him. Dafydd and Idris, whom he’d glimpsed in the first SUV, were obvious choices. Dracul wanted them back because no one took his toys away. It didn’t take much analysis to get why Merlin had been among them, either. That hybrid had always been a wildcard. Apparently, Annika’s influence hadn’t been as great as they’d thought, and he fervently prayed that it wasn’t because the Queen lay dead. The boy was obviously returning to his sire’s fold. The fact must be devastating to Alun…if the man still lived.
Demi stumbled out of the side door before he reached it. The boy’s face was bruised, but at least he was alive. It gave Christos hope that others were as well.
He held out his hands to help the boy. “Jesus, Demi, are you all right?” There didn’t seem to be any wounds on him.
“I’m fine. Just a bruised jaw, thanks to Merlin. The fucker joined Dracul’s goons.”
Putting aside that detail for the moment, he asked, “How bad is it in there?”
“Dafydd, Idris and Mateo have been taken.”
“I know. I gave chase, but…” He shook his head.
“There was nothing you could have done. I’m glad to see they didn’t kill you. The rest of the family are alive and unharmed, except Tony’s been shot. He needs my father. Harry,” he clarified. Then, Demi clutched Christos’ arm. “Are they alive, my fathers? What happened at the club?”
He ignored the last question because there were no words and there was no time to describe what had gone down. “I think they’re both fine. Lucien is probably somewhere safe over there. Harry would have made sure of that, and I didn’t see him in the thick of the fight. I’ll get him. Go back to the others.”
Dumping his weapons so the cops wouldn’t see them, he bolted to the side door of the club and headed for the main room. He immediately ran into Lucien.
The changeling grabbed him much as his son had. “Demi?”
“Alive,” he wasted no time confirming. “Just a little banged up. Tony needs Harry, though. Where is he?”
“Helping with the wounded.” Lucien made a face. “He made me shelter in place with the kitchen staff once the shooting started. I have to get home, no matter what he says.” He paused and licked his lips. “How many casualties over there besides Tony?”
“Demi says none.”
Lucien closed his eyes. “Thank God.”
“There’s more.” He told him about the ones who’d been taken, his voice stuttering as he said Mateo’s name.
“We will get them back,” Lucien said fiercely before taking off.
The reassurance was oddly comforting. He pressed on to the one thing he could do for the moment, however. When he arrived at his destination, it was as horrific as he’d remembered it. People lay moaning or sat on the floor, shell-shocked. Police and other first responders were milling about. The dead were where they’d dropped. Val and Claude were careful to keep their unarmed hands
were they could be seen by the cops as they assessed who were the bad guys and who were the victims. All the weaponry was in piles on the ground. Christos raised his hands, too, as he approached his friends.
“Yaro is fine,” he called out to Claude before finding Harry. The man was on his knees, holding a compress to Kitty’s shoulder. “Harry, you need to get to Tony quickly. Demi says he’s been shot.”
Harry popped to his feet. “How is my son?”
“Bruised, that’s all. Now go. Lucien is already over there. I’ll look after Ms. Kitty.”
“I’m fine,” she ground out. “It’s Logan who needs help.” Her voice hitched and tears streamed down her face.
Harry shook his head once before taking off. Aw, Jesus, no. Christos looked at the dance floor and saw Emil kneeling there with Logan in his arms. His white jacket was covered in blood and gore. Jase clung to him, crying quietly. With his hands still raised so as not to alarm the freaked-out cops, Christos approached the scene. Logan wasn’t dead. Not yet.
“Hang on, damn you,” Emil was saying. “The EMTs are here.”
Logan managed a weak grin. “Like they can help when Harry can’t,” she rasped. “Sorry. I was hoping to make it to the last dance, you know?” She coughed, pink foam leaking past her lips. “You gave me back a whole year of my life when I thought I’d already lost it, so no mewling about this. Just get the fucker for me.”
“I will,” Emil vowed. “We will. It won’t be the same without you.”
Logan coughed again and her eyes rolled back. “Fuck yeah, it won’t.”
Emil held her tight to his chest and rocked her body back and forth while Jase sobbed loudly now. Christos left them to their private grief and caught Alex’s eye. The man sat on the floor with Quinn on his lap, a cloth already tied around the boy’s arm. The boy Quinn had been shielding was near them, curled into a ball and weeping silently. Quinn was holding one of his hands in quiet reassurance, even though his own eyes were glassy and unfocused. For the first time ever, Christos saw an expression of utter devastation on his captain’s face. It was too painful to look at.
Final Dance Page 19