by Nina Croft
She closed her eyes, and the last of the tension drained from her, leaving her limp and pathetic. And worried.
How had they been found?
What if they could hone in on certain Tribe members? That was how Kane had found them all those months ago and given up the position of their safe house to the government.
They could be following, even now.
Maybe she should dump Ethan at a hospital, and get far away from him. Maybe that was the only way to keep him safe. Except it wouldn’t, because Kane wanted him dead. Wanted all the Conclave dead. At least, if she kept him close, she could protect him.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, smoothed it back from his forehead, and knew she couldn’t leave him. She needed to rest for a while, then maybe her brain would start working, and she could see a way through this.
She must have drifted off because she was dreaming of Ethan.
I love you.
She knew it was a dream, but she felt warm and safe and happy. Unlike anything she had ever experienced in real life. And she wanted to stay there.
A door slamming shut awoke her, and she blinked a couple of times, shaking the dream from her consciousness. It was after midnight, but bright light streamed in through the windows of the van. Petrol fumes filled her nostrils, the air oily on her tongue.
The doors at the back opened and Rose stood there, Dave just behind her. “Nice dress,” he murmured.
Christ, she was still in the long frock from the party, showing a whole lot of bare skin. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d put it on. “Thanks. And you know the best thing? It doesn’t show the bloodstains.”
He grinned. “Good party?”
“The best.”
She peered past them. They’d driven inside the garage and were out of sight. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t help if the bad guys could hone in on them. She couldn’t shift the niggle of doubt. They needed to move, to get as far away as fast as they could. As soon as Ethan had been seen to, they would go. She just had to decide where.
She pressed her palm to Ethan’s forehead. He was warm to the touch, but when she peeped under the pad, the bleeding had stopped. Placing a hand on his good shoulder, she squeezed. “Ethan?”
His eyes blinked open. They were clear, and for a moment, he smiled up at her. Then he shifted, and a spasm of pain crossed his features. “Christ, that hurts.”
“You were shot.”
“No kidding.”
“The bullet went right through, but you lost a lot of blood.”
“We’ve a doctor waiting to have a look at it,” Dave said.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. She had a peek in his mind. He recognized Dave as the man who had picked her and Rose up from the police station the night of Forrester’s death. Then he nodded. “Thank you.”
“Can you walk?” she asked.
“I think so.”
She maneuvered him around, helping him to sit up, so his legs hung off the back of the van. He pushed himself up and then sank back down. Dave came and hooked a hand around his shoulder, helping him to his feet. She watched until they disappeared into a side room.
She sighed. He’d be okay. He was tough. Now, for the one she wasn’t so sure would be fine. Her sister had always had a certain fragility. She would have been easy to break.
Josie still sat in the front seat, staring straight ahead. “How is she?” Sadie asked Rose.
“She’s crying.”
“Her husband just died.”
Shock widened her eyes. “She has a husband?”
“Had. Long story. For later.”
“Okay—I’ll hold you to that. Now, I’m going to contact the colonel, tell him what’s happening. See if we can’t decide what to do next.” She hesitated. “I have a bad feeling about this. Something isn’t right.”
“I know. I feel the same. But I can’t pinpoint it.”
“Yeah, but we need to be ready to move.”
She looked down at her dress. “Tell the colonel to bring me a change of clothes.” She glanced at her sister in her long lace gown. “Two changes of clothes. And a gun—just one of those. Fucker might as well do something useful.”
“Okay. Then I’m going to have a look around outside. Keep an eye out for anything unusual.”
She waited until Rose exited the garage, then walked around the front of the vehicle, opened the passenger door, and rested a hand on her sister’s bare arm.
Josie turned to look at her, her eyes drenched in tears, so familiar and yet a stranger, and Sadie’s heart ached. But really, this was better. She’d imagined such horrific ends for her sister, especially since Sam. But it looked like she hadn’t suffered. Sadie should be happy about that, and maybe she would be…one day. Now, it all hurt too damn much.
“Is Travis really dead?”
Yeah, the bastard. That was one good thing anyway—it would save Sadie from killing him. Probably her sister would never have forgiven her for that. She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
It was a lie, but what the hell else was she supposed to say? She swallowed down her bitterness. “Come on, we’re safe here. You need to get out, get cleaned up.”
Her sister’s cream lace dress was splattered with blood. So was her face, and Sadie reached up and wiped a mark from her cheek.
“Who are you?” Josie whispered.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk later.” She wanted to get back to Ethan, but she could hardly abandon Josie. And with that thought, she realized she was in some sort of denial—that this wasn’t her sister. But she was, and Sadie doubted any of what had happened had been Josie’s fault. Had Travis taken one look at the broken shell of a woman and fallen in love? It seemed unlikely, but she couldn’t come up with an alternative explanation. “Come on, Josie.”
“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Joelle.”
Sadie bit her lip, so hard she could taste blood, then gave a bright smile. “Joelle, then. Come on.” She took her sister’s arm and helped her down from the van. Off the main garage area, there was a small room with sofas and a coffee machine, and she led her sister there, and then through to the small bathroom at the back.
She ran the tap and dampened a towel, washing the blood from Josie’s face, then led her back, and gently pressed on her shoulder until she sank down onto the sofa.
“Coffee?” she asked, but her sister shook her head. She rested back against the sofa and closed her eyes. Sadie watched for a minute, but she didn’t move again, and she sighed and headed out the door. “Stay here,” she said, but got no response.
Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it and blinked until the tears that pricked her eyes were gone. She never cried. Not ever. Once she was sure she wasn’t going to embarrass herself, she straightened and headed for the room where they’d taken Ethan.
The door opened to her touch. Inside was some sort of office turned hospital room. Dave had moved quickly. The stench of antiseptic stung her nostrils. There was no bed—Ethan lay on his back on the leather sofa. An IV had been hung from a stand at the end, close to his head. Clear fluid ran through the tubes and into a needle in his arm.
A woman was working on his shoulder. She’d removed the makeshift bandage and was cleaning the wound. Ethan lay perfectly still, his eyes closed. Looked like he’d lost consciousness again. Which was probably just as well.
Dave leaned against the wall opposite, and Sadie went to join him.
“How is he?” she asked.
“He passed out again, but he’ll live.”
Thank God. But she kept the words to herself. She wasn’t ready to admit she cared for Ethan to herself, never mind to anyone else.
“The doc says he’s going to need blood, though,” Dave said. “She’s brought a selection—he waved a hand at a huge white container. “But she needs to know his type. I don’t suppose you know.”
“It never came up in conversation.”
“No, I guess it wouldn’t. We’ll have to try and wake
him, then. Once he’s stitched up. Might be better if he stays out until that’s done.” He turned his attention from Ethan to her. “Who is this guy, and is this going to cause me problems?”
She didn’t need to think about that one. “His name is Ethan Weiland, and yes, very probably.”
He grinned. “Oh well, at least that’s honest. Police?”
“Unlikely.”
What was going on back at the party? Had their attackers left after they’d escaped? Were the people still unconscious? Maybe they should send somebody in there. But who could they trust? And they couldn’t send anyone in blind. These people were clearly ruthless.
And so were the Conclave—would they come after them? If they were awake. Would they find them? She just didn’t know. Unfortunately, Dave wasn’t in the clear. He’d picked them up from the police station after Forrester’s murder. Maybe someone would make the connection—it wouldn’t be that hard. Then again, maybe Ethan would be safer back with his own people. Hers would clearly see him as the enemy.
She pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to ease the ache and think through what she had to do.
“Should I get my guys out of here? Or should they stay as backup?”
She had an image of the ballroom strewn with unconscious bodies. “Tell them to leave. Maybe you should go as well.”
“I’ll stay with Rose.”
“Aw, sweet. Okay, but we’ll all leave as soon as we can move Ethan.” And as soon as they could come up with a plan as to where to move him to. “But I don’t know how long that will be. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I knew what I was getting into.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and spoke into it quietly. “So who is Ethan Weiland?” he asked as he slipped the phone back in his pocket.
Good question. Next in line for leadership of a clandestine organization that pretty much controlled the world? It sounded so dramatic. Not that she supposed he was next in line anymore. His father was dead. Did that mean Ethan was in charge now? Or did he have to go through some ultra-secret initiation ceremony?
“You’re thinking too much,” Dave said. “It can’t be that difficult a question.”
“He’s the leader of the Conclave.”
His eyes widened. “This evil organization responsible for the death of your friends.”
She nodded.
“The organization you’ve been hunting down, meaning to obliterate?”
“Hey, long word for a biker-boy. Does Rose tell you everything?”
“I have no clue. But she told me that. Where the hell is she anyway?”
“Outside, having a look around.” The doctor had finished cleaning the wound and was now preparing the staple gun. Sadie winced.
“Shit,” Dave said. He nodded toward Ethan. “You think his people will come after him? What is he? Some sort of hostage?” He cast her a narrow-eyed look. “Hey, did you shoot him?”
“No, I didn’t. And no, he’s not a hostage. He’s working with us…sort of.”
At that moment, the doctor drew the wound together and there was a click as the first staple went in. Ethan’s eyes shot open, and she hurried across to his side.
“He needs to hold still,” the doctor said. They were the only words she’d spoken, and for the first time, Sadie noticed her face was set in hard lines. She did not look happy. Had she been coerced in some way? There was a good possibility.
She sank onto the couch beside him but out of the way. “You need to stay still.”
He gritted his teeth as the second staple went in. “I’m not deaf.”
“Well, while you’re awake—what’s your blood type? Just in case you faint again.”
“A positive. And I didn’t faint.”
“A positive,” she repeated to the doctor.
“I’m not deaf, either,” the doctor snapped and clicked her staple gun again. Ethan winced but held himself still. The wound was already looking better. “Go find the blood,” the doctor said, nodding to the cooler.
Sadie patted his leg and got up, crossing the room to hunker down beside the box. Inside was packed with clear plastic bags of blood, plainly marked with the blood type. She rifled through until she found an A positive. Unscrewing the saline from the IV, she replaced it with the bag of blood and watched as the tube ran red.
The doctor was doing the back of the wound now—at least the bullet had gone right through. Ethan winced again, then looked up and caught her gaze. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You could have left me there.”
No, she couldn’t, but she just shrugged.
“So, do you know what’s happening?” he asked.
“It’s a complete mystery.”
Dave snorted, and Ethan raised his gaze to take in the other man. “Dave Madsen, I presume.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you, as well. You’ll be repaid for your trouble.”
“Whoopty doo,” Dave said. He clearly didn’t like being treated as the hired help. “Look, I’m going to check on Rose.”
Sadie waited until the door had closed and then moved back to stand over him. The doctor was bandaging the wound now. Ethan’s face was pale, sweat gleaming on his forehead, but he remained quiet until she was finished.
She finally fastened off the bandage and stood up. “Leave it alone for at least twenty-four hours, then change the bandage.” Her bag was on the desk, and she pulled out two bottles. “Painkillers and antibiotics.” She handed the bottles to Sadie. “Instructions are on the label.” She waved a hand at the cooler. “There’s another two liters of A positive. Give him it all.”
She picked up her bag, and a moment later, she was gone.
“She needs to work on her bedside manner,” Sadie muttered.
“Probably doesn’t get called out to gunshot wounds in the middle of the night too often.”
“Probably does, if she knows Dave.” She sank down onto the sofa and took his good hand, stroked her fingers over his palm and released her breath. The last of the tension and the adrenaline oozed out of her, leaving her shaky and light-headed.
Ethan squeezed her hand. “You okay?”
“I will be. Just a rough night.”
“Yeah.” They were silent for a moment. “So what happened back there? Was that your lot? Some sort of telepathy thing.”
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my lot. They were strangers.” She shook her head. “And none of us could have done that. Rose can knock people out, but not that many, not a whole roomful. At least, they were all alive. Well, except for Travis and…”
“My father.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. He’d loved his father, she knew that, even though all this time, he’d suspected he was in some way complicit in his mother’s death. But she’d been in his mind, and he’d never once even come close to the truth. She would have to tell him. But hopefully he wouldn’t push right now.
“You have to tell me.”
“I will.” Maybe she should get it over with. “Just take your medicine first.”
“I don’t want the goddamn medicine.”
She shrugged, got to her feet, and picked up the bottle of water from the desk. She read the labels and shook out some tablets onto her palm, then passed them over and watched while he swallowed them. She was about to sit down again when Rose spoke in her mind.
“The colonel’s here.”
Saved by the colonel. She’d never been pleased to see that fucker before. “Someone is coming. Talking will have to wait,” she told Ethan.
He seemed almost relieved and guilt nudged her. But she had no clue how he was going to respond to the information, whether he would want to act on it, and if so, how? They just had too much other stuff to deal with right now.
A minute later, the door opened and the colonel stood there. Sadie looked beyond him to where Christa stood at his shoulder. She pushed past him, came over, and gave Sadie a hug. “Thank God, you’re all right.
” She stepped back, and cast Ethan a pointed glance.
Her father followed her into the room. He peered at Ethan, then drew a pistol from the holster in the small of his back and aimed it at Ethan. “You want me to finish him off?”
Chapter Nineteen
Ethan stared at the gun and wondered, for a moment, if she had, in fact, brought this man here to finish him off. To do a job she couldn’t do herself. But only for a moment—she’d hardly go to the bother of patching him up if she was planning on killing him.
“Put the gun away,” Sadie snapped. Her tone was curt. She didn’t like this man. She turned to him. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it myself. It wouldn’t exactly have been difficult.”
Ethan pushed himself up so he was sitting—he didn’t like being at a disadvantage—swallowing as pain shot from his shoulder down his arm. Thankfully, the painkillers were already kicking in, the pain dulling to an ache and drowsiness stealing through his mind. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the pills, but Sadie hadn’t given him much of a choice. He studied the two people, recognizing them from the Conclave files. This man was a member—had been on the elimination list for over six months. But he had vanished from sight—impressive when you considered the Conclave’s far-reaching resources. The woman, small and pretty with blond curls and big blue eyes and an air of sweetness, was his daughter. A genetic scientist—clever as well as pretty.
Sadie waited until the gun was re-holstered and stepped forward. “Ethan, this is Colonel Harry Winters, who I believe you know of—he was one of your assets at one point and the only one that got away, I suspect. And his daughter Christa. And this is Ethan Weiland.”
“The Conclave?” the colonel murmured. He was looking at Ethan, as though he might bite. But then he must know of the Conclave’s policies. He made no move to shake hands, but his daughter came forward and held out hers. “Hi, I’m Christa.”
He shook it with his good hand and smiled. He liked her.
“Christa is Jake’s wife,” Sadie put in pointedly. Had she picked up that last thought?
“What do you think?” she murmured, and he grinned. “Okay,” she said. “Enough of the pleasantries.” She turned to the colonel and waved a hand toward the bag in his hand. “Is that for me?” She took it from him, rummaging inside. “Great. Just a minute.” She emptied the contents on the desk, then pulled on a pair of jeans under the dress. Then she turned her back, slipped the dress off, and dragged a T-shirt on over her head, a leather jacket on top. Finally, she sat on the chair, tugged on socks and boots, and heaved a huge sigh. “Gorgeous dress, but really not my thing.” She pulled a gun from the bottom of the bag and checked it over, then shoved it into her pocket. “Where are Jake and the others?” she asked.