Adelaide Upset

by Penny Greenhorn

  I had finished my shift, driven home, and was pulling into the driveway, just seconds away from seeing Lucas. Only it would be under the worst of circumstances.

  I flipped on the living room lights, finding the couch cushions in disarray and a half finished puzzle on the coffee table, everything as I’d left it. Halfway down the hall, on my way to the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. The fine hair on the back of neck came alive, tingling as my awareness went on hyper-alert. Something was off, no, something was wrong. Anticipation was high, expectation in the air, and not mine. I was feeling someone else, and they were in my house.

  Chapter 33

  Slowly, I crept back down the hall, my eyes flipping between the dark kitchen in front of me and the lit living room at my rear. I wasn’t alone, but the house felt empty. Someone was hiding, concealing themselves. You didn’t do that without a reason, and that reason didn’t bode well for my health.

  The second I got to the living room I ran for the front door, I heard crashing down the stairs, someone storming after me. I ran around the couch, avoiding the stairwell, and reached for the handle. It was in my grasp, I was pulling it open, and then I was grabbed from behind and wrenched away.

  A pair of massive arms coiled around me, pinning me to the stranger’s chest. I was hoisted up, but when my toes brushed the floor I instantly kicked off, throwing my weight as I jerked my head back. It connected with his chin, and the giant grunted in response as a sharp pain radiated out of my scalp, but his grasp never went slack. He had me at a real disadvantage, and all I could do was drum my heels against his shins, scratch at his arms, and scream. Growing impatient he squeezed, cutting of my cries as I gasped for just a sip of air.

  “The elusive Adelaide Graves, I presume,” came a shockingly cultured voice. “I’ve heard interesting things, but no one mentioned you were feisty.”

  He took two steps, hoisting me higher before suddenly dumping me onto the couch. I bounced, splayed out, one cushion sliding off as I scrambled to sit up.

  I was breathing heavy, trying to catch up on the air I’d lost. His emotions weren’t particularly aggressive, no anger or disgust, so I wasn’t as afraid as I maybe should’ve been. Smoothing my hair back, I carefully said, “I’m not exactly welcoming or congenial to people who force their way into my house.” Demanding, “Who the hell are you?”

  The man walked around the couch, stopping to loom in front of me, our knees almost touching. He was taller than Luke, taller than anyone I knew. He was also built like a truck. He reminded me of Beagban, just as big but not nearly as comical. His face didn’t have the exaggerated features, just a mess of wear and tear. With his hair shorn close to the scalp it was easy to see the crisscross of scars, a network of slashes that covered a great deal of visible skin, especially his knuckles. His nose was crooked and a piece of his ear was missing. In addition, the heavy set of his brow ridge made him seem thick.

  “I thought you might already know,” he said. The gentle flow of his voice, the careful inflection, it convinced me that he was far from stupid.

  I shrugged, not in the mood for games.

  “Larson Hurst,” he prompted, watching for my reaction. “You will have heard of me.”

  I thought Lars Hurst would be Reed’s counterpart. Darkly sophisticated with a veneer of easy elegance, but the truth was Lars Hurst was a bruiser.

  I didn’t admit to knowing anything, as I could feel him waiting with interest for every bit of stray information I might give away. “Larson rhymes with arson,” I said instead. “Is that a coincidence, or just another one of your illegal pastimes?”

  “Difficult, aren’t you?” He appraised me for a moment and then moved a few feet back, lowering himself onto the coffee table. It groaned under his weight while the puzzle got pushed aside, some pieces falling to the floor where they scattered along the carpet.

  “Make yourself at home,” I said dryly.

  “I knew you wouldn’t welcome my intrusion,” Lars said, taking control of the conversation. “I heard what you did to Raina Thompson, very inventive.”

  “I can do the same to you, just let me grab the honey and flour,” I answered, gesturing toward the kitchen.

  “She went to work for Reed, did you know?” I kept a blank face, but sometimes even nothing was an answer. “I see you did. Interesting, that. People are so drawn to my old friend Reed, they jump at the chance to simply be near him, strange that you don’t seem to enjoy the close position.” It was a suggestive statement if I ever heard one. He waited, expecting me to confirm or deny a relationship with Reed. I did neither. “Nothing to say?” he prompted. “Well, I’m not disappointed.”

  He grinned, showing off his teeth, a little chipped and ever so slightly skewed. His expression made me shift on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable. I didn’t like that look.

  “You see, I enjoy a challenge,” he continued. Then he turned toward the kitchen and called out, “Tony. Eric.”

  My eyes skimmed over the newcomers, two men spilling in from the hall, both big, but not as impressive as their master. I took in their casual dress and heavy tread walk, but my attention abruptly stopped, gaze fixated on their hands, the skin red and raw. Then I really noticed their clothing, the dark cloth masking, but not altogether concealing the fresh stains.

  Blood.

  I jumped off the couch, and having predicted my action, Lars stood in time, mirroring the motion. I tried to push past him, shoving his chest with both hands. For some reason he let me, even keeping his goons in check as I swept past them, down the hall and into the kitchen.

  It was worse than I thought, my belated fear coming in full force. Lucas was tied to a chair, hands secured behind his back, lower chest wrapped in ropes, ankles too. They had worked him over. His face was already mottled with bruises, blood dripping from his mouth, nose and ears. He sat slumped, body tipping to one side, but thankfully unconscious.

  My fingers were shaking when I touched his face. His skin was warm, almost hot, but feeling that small sign of life wasn’t enough. I wanted more assurance, some proof or promise that he would be alright.

  “He wouldn’t say a word,” Lars said, almost bragging as he stepped into the kitchen. The other two filed in behind, all three of them watching as I hovered over Lucas. “I would have thought him mute, except he swore quite a bit at times.”

  I saw my mistake then in not fearing this man sooner. In the past I had relied on my empathy to feel out the enemy. Raina was easy to anticipate, contempt always underlining her deeds. Beagban, too, had been controlled by his need to intimidate and master those around him. Emotions made people predictable. But Lars wasn’t one to be ruled by emotion.

  Casually he strolled over, and I tensed at his nearness, the fear crawling all over me. Lars slapped Lucas on the back, causing his inert form to slump forward even more.

  “We’ve been careful with him,” the devil assured me. “Only broke three ribs so far. But then, we’re just getting started.”

  When he glanced down at Lucas I saw something disturbing in his eyes, it was something like pride. He had all the ingredients for fascination, the interest, admiration and surprise. “He wouldn’t tell a thing about you, not even the color of your eyes. Can you believe that?”

  Without warning Lars slammed a fist into Luke’s gut. I screamed and tried to push him back, but the damage was already done. Luke briefly came to life, groaning as he slumped further forward.

  Lars was a sociopath. He’d admired Luke’s stalwart attitude one second, and beat him the next. “There goes a fourth rib,” he carelessly observed for my sake. He was trying to drive me mad and it was working.

  “Stop,” I hissed. “I’ll do anything you want, just stop.”

  I had to draw things out until the cavalry arrived. The second I saw what they’d done to Lucas I pressed the stones down on my Tibetan ring, pulling aside the plate to reveal the little black nib button, the panic button. Reed knew I was in trouble and it was only a matter of bidin
g my time.

  “Your connection to Reed eludes me,” Lars admitted. “Explain it to me.”

  With Luke’s well-being on the line I didn’t hesitate. “It was predicted that I would find Demidov’s diary. Reed kept me around for that reason.”

  “The two of you have slept together, then.”

  “No,” I answered, wondering why he thought so.

  His arm exploded forward, crashing into Luke before I even knew what was happening.

  “No!” I yelled, helpless to stop him. It was already done.

  “I don’t believe you,” Lars said calmly, emotions unruffled. “And every time I don’t believe you, Lucas will pay.”

  “I never slept with Reed,” I reiterated. “But his charm does affect me and sometimes... sometimes I get carried away. But I swear, it never got that far. We haven’t slept together.”

  Lars laughed, loud and deep, his enjoyment clear. “You spurn Reed for the rough type, I can appreciate that.” His mood was still light when he continued. “And I understand that he would fly down here if he was trying to fuck you, but why the secrecy? What is he up to?”

  It all boiled down to the diary, either I would tell him or I wouldn’t. My internal debate lasted for only a second, but it was one second too long.

  Lars grew impatient. “Hold her,” he directed.

  The two men who’d been lurking behind me didn’t waste time. “Get off,” I yelled as they hauled me away from Lucas, twisting my arms back until I was bent forward, the angle unnatural as it was painful.

  “I much prefer to use my fists,” Lars said, feeling a bit disappointed. “There’s something honest about it,” he explained. “It’s just so course and unrefined, and, well, I suppose it feels more natural. But if there’s one thing I learned from Beagban, it’s the advantage of a blade. So let’s expedite this process, shall we, cutting through flesh and time together.”

  From his pocket he produced a knife. It was common, the open blade no more than three inches long. Yet it made my blood run cold.

  “Don’t. I told you I would do anything and I meant it, but if you hurt him I won’t say a word.”

  “You will,” he answered, not looking at me as he cut open Luke’s shirt. He then gripped Luke’s shoulder, pushing him back and pinning him upright in the chair. I got my first glimpse of his bare chest and it was discolored and ugly from abuse.

  It drove me absolutely crazy to see him drag that blade across Luke’s chest, and I screamed and struggled until my voice was sandpaper course. Lars let me get it all out, waiting until I was limp and crying. He didn’t break Lucas, but he sure as hell broke me.

  “I have the book,” I said to his back for the hundredth time, watching him carve thin lines into Lucas. “Stop! Please, just stop, and I’ll give you the damned thing.” But he didn’t stop, in fact, I don’t know if he even heard me. “Don’t you want Demidov’s diary? I’ll give it to you! Please,” I sobbed.

  He probably didn’t believe me, thinking I would say anything at this point. He was right. I would say anything. But then, he was a sociopath, meaning to make a point regardless of what I offered, and it killed me to think of how long this torture might go on.

  Finally he turned to look at me, the blade pushed so deep it dimpled Luke’s skin. “Watch,” Lars said, as if I could do otherwise. And then he began to push.

  I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat.

  The knife went into Lucas slowly, disappearing inch by inch. I struggled the whole time, my shrill cries drowning out Luke’s groan. When it was buried to the hilt Lars let go, and I stared in horror, watching a ribbon of blood slip down over my ex-boyfriend’s waist.

  “I haven’t hit any organs,” Lars assured me, “so we have plenty of time to talk. He’s in no danger of bleeding out, so long as I keep the knife right where it is. Now I suggest you think of something I might like to hear, something useful, and if you lie then I’ll remove the knife from his chest.”

  “Get your minions to release me and I’ll give you Demidov’s diary right now, it’s in the house.”

  Lars turned. “What did you say?”

  “I said I have the book.”

  “The demon took it.”

  “The demon didn’t take it, Reed just outsmarted you.”

  “Bring it,” he barked.

  I shrugged out from under their hands, his men releasing me at a nod from Lars. He followed me into the closet, blocking the doorway as I opened the fuse box. He was amazed, spirits elated when I put the book into his hands, never for a second thinking I actually had it.

  “Does Reed know?” he asked.

  “No. I was supposed to tell him when I found it, but...”

  “You read it instead,” Lars guessed.

  I had to convince him otherwise, being privy to that book would get me killed. “No, I never gave a fuck about the book,” I said, making sure to meet his eye. “I just wanted to piss off Reed.”

  He studied me for a moment, and his assessing gaze made me wonder if he had a gift. What if he could sense lies? But he suddenly laughed again, startling me from my paranoia. “Oh, you have,” he assured me. “Reed will be seething.”

  While Lars carefully inspected his new acquisition I ducked past him, wanting to keep Lucas in my sights. I stood behind the chair, holding his shoulders to keep him upright. He’d started to slump, and I was terrified the knife would shift and cut something inside him.

  “Well, I must say, this visit went better than expected.” Lars waltzed up to me, the book tucked under his arm. “I didn’t get too carried away. Your boyfriend gets to live, and he will, live, that is, if you get him to a hospital without much jostling.”

  “Should I thank you for that?” Hate thickened my voice.

  “If you like,” Lars said, gesturing for his men to precede him. And that was it, he turned and left.

  Chapter 34

  I didn’t move, listening to them as they shuffled for the door, waiting on the click that would mark their departure. As soon as I heard it I rushed to Lucas. I had to call 911, but I didn’t want to leave him alone in my kitchen, tied to a chair with a knife in his gut. And to make matters worse, he was slumping again.

  I glanced around the kitchen, trying to remember where I’d put Francesca’s left over tape. I found it in a random drawer and hurried back over to Lucas where I taped his shoulders to the wooden backing. His head lulled forward, but otherwise he stayed in place. I was just about to leave through the back, needing to use Luke’s phone to call for help, when I heard a noise.

  The front door was pushed open, but I didn’t hear it close, then slight footsteps, slow and cautious. I positioned myself in front of Luke, searching around for some sort of weapon, but there was nothing.

  “I have a gun,” I lied, hoping Lars hadn’t come back.

  “Ms. Graves, is that you?” someone called from the hall. “You signaled an emergency. I’m here on Mr. Wallace’s orders to assist you. Please put down any weapons you may be holding. I’m going to slowly step into the kitchen.”

  The man appeared, old but fit and slim, his face familiar. I’d dealt with him on Reed’s estate once. He was head of security or something such.

  “Come and help me,” I said, stepping aside so he could get a glimpse of Lucas. “I was going to call 911, but it’ll be faster if I take him myself.”

  “Wait,” the man said, stopping me as I began to tip the chair back. “Let me check him first, don’t move him yet.”

  “Hurry up!” I bit out, beyond patience. “In case you didn’t notice he’s been stabbed.”

  “Yes, Ms. Graves, I see,” he answered calmly. So much so, that I wanted to strangle him. “I was an EMT once upon a time,” he added, his hands briskly skimming over Luke, and I could see the training. “He’s lucky, his injuries are so well placed,” the man announced, standing back, feeling satisfied.

  The knife said otherwise, as did the dribbles of blood on my kitchen floor. I wouldn’t feel any sort of relief
until Luke got some medical attention, and one old EMT didn’t count.

  “Move,” I barked.

  The man stepped aside, questioning me all the while. I hardly heard, too busy with Lucas. Tipping his chair back so all the weight rested on its hind legs, I began dragging it toward the front door.

  “Who did this to your friend?”

  “Do you know who attacked you?”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Larson Hurst happened,” I finally replied. “Now help me or get the fuck out of my house.”

  The carpet was giving me a hard time, and I didn’t know how I was going to get Lucas from the chair to my car. Reed’s men came in handy for that. There were four others, they’d been ‘securing the premises’ and at the older man’s request, were able to lift the chair and carry it outside with little effort.

  “We have an SUV,” the man in charge was saying, badgering me really. “The ride will be easier for your friend if we take him.”

  “No,” I insisted. “I’m taking him.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not a good idea, not if what you say is true,” he argued. “Lars Hurst is a dangerous man—”

  “Fuck you!” I shouted, going hysterical in a heartbeat. “I know your motivation—Reed told you to stay with me until he got some answers,” I said, reading him like a book. “Well tell him this: Lars Hurst has the diary, that’s right,” I said, sensing his shock. “I gave it to him! And now I’m taking my boyfriend to the hospital and if you don’t move that fucking SUV, then I’m going to plow right into it!”

  Well, there wasn’t much to say after that. They did move their vehicle; it’d been blocking me in. They even helped lift Lucas from the chair to the passenger seat of my car where I carefully buckled him in. And then I left the five of them scratching their asses in my front yard. It was the older man, the head of security, that I felt, his emotions following me as I drove off. He was chewing over what I’d told him, feeling intensely worried, and rightly so. The messenger got shot more often than not, and Reed was going to be out for blood when he found out—Demidov’s diary was beyond his reach and in the hands of an enemy no less. We were all in for it.