“Listen, Addison.” He paused, gentling his voice. “Fletcher.” Declan tamped down the beast and met Addison’s gaze with what he hoped was a calm look. That was the expression he strove for, at any rate. “Talk to me. I mean, why now? Why not five years ago? Or even ten? The accident was almost fifteen years ago, mate.”
“Don’t call me ‘mate.’ I’m not your mate, your chum, or your pal.” He brought up his right hand and held it out in front of him. The fingers held a distinct tremble. “See that? I had to retrain myself to use my left hand. I also had a lot of years of therapy, O’Connell, to regain the use of my hand, to get used to my prosthetic leg, to listen to shrinks tell me I needed to let go of my anger and hatred so I could fully heal.” He gave a short bark of laughter. “As if I would ever fully heal with half of my leg gone.”
He drew a deep breath and held it before exhaling noisily. “Then I couldn’t find you, once you’d moved to the States. So I figured…” He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I’d start coming here. I knew the way you felt about Pelicia back in our RM days—even if you didn’t. God, you talked about her so much it was sickening. I knew eventually you’d come nosing around, trying to get her into your bed.” His lips twisted. “One thing I learned during all those hours and hours and hours of endless therapy was patience. And you know what they say—revenge is a dish best served cold.”
Pelicia moaned, her head lifting slightly as she fought the effects of the gas and tried to wake up.
“Easy there, love,” Addison murmured. Once again on his knees, he moved a bit closer to her.
Declan saw the affection the other man tried to hide. “You like her, don’t you? Look at her. She’s an innocent. You can’t do this.”
“You think I can’t?” Addison’s jaw tightened. “Who do you think killed Brenna?”
Declan’s eyes widened. Of course it had been Addison who’d killed Pelicia’s friend. “Why? Because she found out who you really are?”
“Because I thought she was her,” he bellowed, jabbing a finger toward Pelicia. “I didn’t expect Brenna to be in the house, and in the dark I mistook her for Pelicia.” His lips thinned, and he breathed in through his nose, obviously trying to regain control of his fractured emotions. “That’s another thing you have to pay for.”
“Me?” Declan frowned. “How in the hell is that my fault?”
Addison made a rough sound deep in his throat. “How can you ask that? It’s because of you that I’m here. Like this.” He thrust out his right hand again, letting Declan see the ever-present trembling. Then Addison rapped his knuckles against the calf of his right leg. The sound of hard plastic being knocked against was muffled by the man’s pants, but it made noise the way a real leg never would. “You really had to ask, didn’t you. You arrogant son of a bitch.”
Pelicia groaned and lifted her head fully, opening her eyes and blinking. “Declan?”
“Right here, darlin’.” He kept his voice soothing when all he wanted to do was let loose and rage. But that would get him nowhere fast. “Just stay calm, and you’ll be all right.”
“Oh, aye. Lie to the lass, why don’t you?”
Pelicia looked toward Addison, her lovely face scrunching with confusion. “Neal?”
Declan bit back a growl at his own thickness as he realized just who Addison was. Neal White, one of Pelicia’s house guests. A guest who’d been staying with her off and on for two fucking years.
“Now you see, don’t you?” Addison grinned. “‘The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.’ You used to tell me that, remember?”
“I can’t take credit for it,” Declan muttered, casting his mind about for a way to get out of this. Time was running out—in a matter of minutes the sun would set, the full moon would rise, and the wolf would be set free. He needed to neutralize Addison before that happened. “Leo Tolstoy said it first.”
“I…I don’t understand.” Pelicia looked from one man to the other, her blue eyes wide and dark with fear in the miniscule light from the flashlight. She took in her surroundings and gasped. “Why are we at a barrow? Why am I tied up? What the bloody hell is going on here?”
“What’s going on, my dear, is that you have a bomb strapped to your chest that’s set to go off in just over two hours. As soon as I think O’Connell’s suffered enough, I’m going to leave and listen to the explosion from a distance. And in case you get any ideas…” He waved the remote. “I don’t have to wait an hour.” He heaved a theatrical sigh. “As much as I’d love to see the look on your face, Dec, really I would, I have no desire to die here myself.”
In the gathering dusk, Pelicia’s face went white.
“Pity, that.” Declan tried to clear his mind of everything else except for one task—morphing his hands into werewolf claws so he could try to cut through the bindings. He had no idea if the claws would be sharp enough, but he had to try.
Pelicia’s life depended on it.
Chapter 19
“You can’t be serious, Neal.” Pelicia stared at the blond-haired man she’d begun to think of as a friend. He was dressed in camouflage gear—jacket with an olive-green T-shirt underneath, cargo pants, and military-style boots. He wore a holstered gun strapped to one thigh. Not exactly the image of the carefree photojournalist she’d come to know.
Nor was it the look of someone who’d seemed so concerned about her, about how well she was doing in her efforts to run a bed and breakfast.
When he briefly turned to one side, his jacket flapped behind him, and she saw a knife in its scabbard secured to his belt and a mobile phone next to it.
“Tell me you’re not serious.” She looked down at her chest. What appeared to be three sticks of dynamite—she’d only ever seen dynamite on the telly, for God’s sake—were taped together with two small black boxes attached, one of which was a digital timer. Three wires—one blue, one red, and one yellow-and-white striped—led from one box to the next and then to the dynamite. It didn’t look like a real bomb, but what did she know? She’d never seen a real live bomb up close—and you couldn’t get any closer than this. She swallowed and closed her eyes. She was very much afraid it was all too real.
Deadly real.
Pulse throbbing in her throat, she raised her gaze once more to Neal. God, please tell me you’re joking. “Neal—”
“My name’s not Neal. It’s Fletcher. Fletcher Addison.” The expression on his face made it seem as if he hated her. Her heart stuttered with fear. He scowled. “You really want to know just how serious I am? Ask O’Connell.”
She looked at Declan, sitting at the entrance to the barrow.
His face was dark with anger. His eyes glittered with feral intensity, though his voice was soft as he said, “He’s serious, darlin’. He blames me for an accident that happened a lotta years ago.”
“Maybe a lot of years ago to you, laddie. Not all that many to me.”
Pelicia’s breath came hard and fast between parted lips. She felt light-headed and concentrated on slowing her breathing. Don’t pass out, she commanded herself. Just because you’ve a bomb strapped to your chest and you’re sitting in a burial chamber is no reason to panic.
Bloody hell. If ever there was a time to panic, now would be it.
“Stay calm, Pel.” Declan snagged her gaze with his. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered. Her voice quavered. “You’re not the one with a bomb strapped to your chest.”
“No, I’m not, because Addison here is a coward hidin’ behind a woman.” Declan stared at the other man, his eyes holding so much rage that Pelicia was surprised he hadn’t already lost control and transformed into his wolf.
But then Declan had always been a man with great self-control.
“He’s the one who’s afraid, darlin’.”
Addison gave a low growl. “You don’t know what fear is, you son of a bitch.”
“False Evidence Appearing Real,” Declan responded. “It’s something t
hat was drilled into all of us early on in our training,” he said with a glance toward Pelicia.
She held her breath. Maybe if he reminded Addison of those days, of the camaraderie they shared, the goals and mind-sets they’d had in common, he could get him to let them go.
“Remember that, Fletch?” Declan’s voice was softly cajoling. It seemed he had the same idea as she.
“Aye, I remember.” The other man stared at the dirt floor of the barrow, his face reflecting his conflicting emotions. Just when she thought he might be softening, he turned. “I also remember that the accident was your fault.” He crawled out of the barrow toward Declan. “Maybe if I give you an idea of the pain I still experience, you’ll understand what I mean.”
Without any further warning, he yanked the knife from its scabbard and plunged it into Declan’s right thigh, just above his knee.
Declan jerked. The muscles in his jaw and neck went rigid, and she knew he held back a yell. Nonetheless, a low groan came from behind his clenched teeth. His eyes lightened, turning tawny.
Pelicia caught her breath. The wolf struggled to break free. Shadows lengthened across his face, dimming the light in those eerie eyes. Her eyes widened as she realized something else.
The sun was setting, and tonight was the first night of the full moon.
Whether he wanted it or not, Declan was about to go furry.
Neal…no, Fletcher didn’t stand a chance.
And while she didn’t feel any particular loyalty to the man who’d strapped a bomb to her chest, she was pretty sure she didn’t want to watch someone get ripped to shreds by an enraged werewolf.
“Fletcher, please. I thought we were friends.” She cast a pleading gaze toward him, hoping to appeal to whatever sense of morality he might have. “This isn’t right. You know this isn’t right.”
“Shut up.” With a glare, he pulled the knife free from Declan’s leg and pointed it at her. Declan’s blood glistened along the edge, dripped off the tip. “It’s your own damned fault for taking up with him.” The knife slashed toward Declan again, slicing across his upper left arm.
Declan grunted in pain, grimacing. He flexed his arms then, with another grunt, his hands swung around, reaching for Addison. He dodged the other man’s swipe at him with the knife and wrapped one hand around Addison’s left wrist.
Pelicia gasped. Somehow he’d been able to free his hands from his bindings. Then she saw that the hand wrapped around Addison’s wrist was long-fingered and furry, tipped with two-inch claws.
He’d partially transformed. She hadn’t known he could do that. From the brief look of surprise on his face, she guessed he hadn’t either.
He raked the claws of his free hand across the binding around his ankles and freed his feet.
“What the—” Addison’s voice cracked as he looked at Declan’s hand. His frightened gaze lifted to Declan’s face. “What the hell are you?”
“Your worst nightmare, boyo.” Declan twisted his hand.
Bones crunched. Addison screamed and jerked away from Declan. With his uninjured hand—but not unimpaired, for Pelicia saw the way it trembled—he pulled out his gun.
She heard the snick of the safety being clicked off and shouted, “Declan, watch out!”
Addison pulled the trigger.
The bullet sliced a path across Declan’s face, leaving a bloody gash on his cheek. As he reached for Addison the man fired another shot that went wild, the pinging ricochet echoing in the still air.
Pelicia squeaked, the only sound that could break free from her fear-tightened throat. When she saw the gun swinging her way, her eyes widened. She tried to scoot sideways, to go deeper into the barrow, but realized she would still be at risk, sitting up as she was. She needed to be as small a target as possible. Seeing no other choice, she jerked to the side, tipping herself over. She landed on her side with a grunt.
“Pelicia!” Declan sounded panicked.
“I’m all right,” she hurried to assure him. “Just trying to get out of the way.”
“Good girl,” she heard him mutter. Then in a louder voice he snarled, “Come on, Addison. Let’s see what you’re really made of.”
Pelicia craned her neck to watch the two men. Declan started toward Addison again, and the man danced out of reach. He holstered his gun and then held up the detonator.
“Ah-ah.” Cradling his broken wrist in front of him, he moved away from the barrow. “I’ll set this off.”
“And blow yourself up, too? I don’t think so.” Declan took a step forward.
“I mean it.” He held the detonator higher and thumbed open the small safety cover. “You take one more step, and we all die.” He pointed one finger, still holding the detonator in that shaking hand. “And in case you have any ideas about taking the bomb off her, I’ve rigged it. You try to take the harness off without disconnecting the correct wire, the bomb blows. You cut the wrong wire trying to disable the bomb, it blows.”
Pelicia could see Addison’s face, could see he meant what he said. In order to take his revenge against Declan he was prepared to die.
Almost faster than she could follow, Declan dove toward him. He wrapped one hand around Addison’s, and Pelicia closed her eyes, expecting to be blown to bits at any second. She heard a crunching sound and Addison’s high-pitched scream, and opened her eyes to see him sitting on the ground, the detonator by his feet. The flashlight at the entrance to the barrow had gotten knocked over in the struggle. The beam shone directly on Addison. From the way his fingers were bent, she realized Declan had broken most—if not all—of them.
Declan snatched up the detonator and flipped the safety cover over the switch, then drew back his arm and threw the small black box as hard as he could. Chest heaving, he stared at Addison. “Give me one reason, boyo. Just one reason I shouldn’t kill you.” His voice was guttural, sounding forced and not quite human.
“You’d better kill me, you son of a bitch. If you don’t, I’ll be back. You can count on that.” His gaze cut to Pelicia where she lay on her side in the narrow rock chamber. “I am sorry, Pel. I didn’t start out with this plan in mind.” He shrugged. “I was only staying with you to look out for O’Connell.” Without warning, he kicked one leg out at Declan.
Declan jumped back, avoiding the strike.
With a grimace of pain, Addison reached for his gun, pulling it out and aiming it toward Declan. “I still have at least one good finger that I can use to pull the trigger, O’Connell.”
Declan stood still, hands clenched at his sides.
Addison shook his head. He met her gaze, his own sorrowful. “Looks like I’ve made a right balls-up of this, eh?”
Was he sorry for what he’d done? Or merely sorry that it hadn’t worked out as he’d planned?
“Nea…Fletcher,” she corrected. She struggled to sit upright again and, as she did so, made sure she moved a little closer to the entrance to the barrow. The closer she was to Declan, the easier it would be for him to help her. “It’s not too late. Tell us how to disable the bomb.”
Addison’s breath began to rasp and a lone tear tracked down one lean cheek. “I loved Brenna. I wasn’t lying when I told you that.”
Declan turned. Pelicia saw a line of sweat beading on his forehead, one droplet sliding down the side of his face. He swiped at it with blunt-edged fingers. “Tell me how to disarm this bomb, boyo, or—”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Addison shook his head and waggled the gun. “I don’t think so.”
Declan might be in the mood to threaten, but Pelicia wasn’t above pleading. “Fletcher, please!” She stared at him, blinking back tears. “If you ever felt anything for me, please…”
He stared at her. His lips twisted. “I…Oh, God, Pelicia. I’m sorry. I’m…” He rolled his shoulders in a forward hunch. “Sorry.” He sighed and licked his lips. “It’s the blue wire. Cut the blue wire to disable the bomb and the booby trap.”
It was getting too dark. She twisted to the side and
grabbed the flashlight beside her, pointing the beam away from her to the entrance of the barrow. She trained it on Declan. When he lifted his gaze to hers, she gasped and instinctively pressed against the cool granite behind her.
His eyes were completely tawny now, the wildness of the wolf shining clearly. Even as she watched, his facial features shifted, his nose and the surrounding area elongating, his teeth sliding into sharp fangs.
“Declan!” Pelicia glanced up at the sky and gasped. The moon, big and full, was rising over the ocean. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized the sun had set.
But all her attention had been focused on what was happening between Declan and Addison, even with darkness falling.
“I can’t…” He groaned and doubled over, crumpling to the floor. “I can’t…stop it.”
She watched with wide eyes as his clothing ripped, torn by the body transforming beneath them. His shoes split along the soles. He gave another groan. She heard bones cracking and winced at the pain she imagined he must be feeling.
Then it was over, and a large dark brown wolf rose to its feet, mouth slightly open in a slow pant.
Fear surged within her. She’d never seen Ryder transform, had never been face-to-face with a werewolf in its wolf form before. Was Declan still in there somewhere? Or was this a monster before her, ready to tear into her?
Licking her lips, she looked at the wolf in front of her. He really was beautiful, standing at least as high as her waist, his paws huge, big, barrel chest and—at least she hoped it wasn’t her own wishful thinking—intelligence gazing from its golden eyes.
The sound of a gunshot made her jump. Declan yelped and turned toward Addison. Blood trailed down the wolf’s right flank.
Pelicia looked at the madman who’d pretended to be her friend.
“What the hell is that?” Addison’s hand shook, making the gun waver up and down. When Declan’s lips pulled back in a snarl, the man gave a shout of fear and fired again.
The shot went wild, striking the granite barrow only a few inches from Pelicia’s head. She screamed. Closing her eyes, she fell to her side to once again try to stay out of the path of bullets.
Seducing the Moon Page 18