Izzie shrugged. "He was there with two other vamps. They said they were a part of something called—" She frowned. "Shit. I forgot."
"C.R.O.S.S," Ryker supplied.
"That's it. Current . . . no, Community Something of Subhuman Species." Another pause. "Representatives. They're like some vampire hate group."
"Hate group?" Connor echoed. "Chrissake, not anudder one."
"These were vamps turned against their will," Ryker explained. "Apparently after I left him in the graveyard, Michael was found by the wrong manner of creature."
Connor looked somber. "That ain't good."
"It gets worse." Ryker offered a dry smile. "His little pet project is in talks with some branch of the government. The night you sent Izzie after me, Michael and friends knocked us out with something heavy and shipped us up north."
"This is sounding more and more like something out of The X-Files," Izzie muttered. "Completely nutso. And I lived it."
Ryker looked at her. "X-Files? You don't get Star Wars references and you've never seen The Wizard of Oz, but you get X-Files?"
"What? Zack and I catch the reruns. He said it might be good research."
"He was off his head."
Connor snickered.
"To be fair, I think it was just an excuse," Izzie explained, looking somewhat chastised. "I think it was something he used to watch with Amber and didn't want me to know about, so he made up something crazy to avoid . . . I dunno, me pitying him or something."
"'E'd lie 'bout that?" Connor asked.
Ryker knew the man had no idea who Zack even was, much less Amber, but he would often piece together essential pieces in a conversation without stopping for directions. Though Connor wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he had a way of shocking people with what he did pick up.
"Zack didn't like looking weak. And my theory is it made him feel close to her." Izzie fell silent for a moment. "He did a lot of things like that."
"Makes sense, I s'pose," said Connor. He looked to Ryker. "Ya said you was up Narth?"
Ryker hesitated again before responding, now unsure of how much to divulge, with or without the go-ahead from Izzie. Though he wasn't the sort of guy to find certain subjects taboo, what had happened in the cells—what had happened between him and Izzie—was no one's business. They might have been pitted against each other for any number of reasons, but what they took from it was theirs and theirs alone. "Iowa," he said at last. "They—well, let's just say it wouldn't make the Zagat's Guide."
"They wanted to study vampire biology," Izzie said, her voice much calmer than his.
Ryker avoided looking at her, concerned he might betray something if their eyes met.
"What?" Connor asked.
"What makes them tick," she continued. "And I guess I was there for the same reason. To see how vamps would react when humans were thrown in."
Connor still looked confused but didn't say anything.
"I killed the main researcher." Izzie's voice grew soft. "And one of the guards. And we got out. The past couple days we were at this cabin off the main highway."
"Now we're here," Ryker concluded.
"Now yer here," Connor agreed. "An' whaddya gonna do about it?"
Izzie blinked. "What?"
"The facility in Iowa's going to be a problem," Ryker said. "Maybe not tomorrow, but soon."
"Briggs is dead," Izzie said. "He was the one who made us his science project."
"And we were careful on the way back for a reason," Ryker replied. "Briggs might've been our very own mad scientist, but he wasn't the one pouring the funds into the place. Whatever else goes on in there is bad business."
Izzie looked numb when she nodded. She shivered and crossed her arms, then turned away, and without warning a stab of shame hit his gut.
No matter what had happened to him, Ryker knew she had fared much worse. It was one thing to be poked and prodded, but another thing altogether to be victimized. And while his relationship with Izzie had never been one of force, while they were together now, it didn't change what happened in the cell. It didn't change the fact she was taken and stripped and put at a man's mercy. Nothing could sweeten the knowledge she was forced into submission. It wasn't a matter of strength—fuck, she was the strongest person he knew. Rather, her strength likely played a part of the larger problem. She hadn't felt helpless in a long time, and those hours during which she had no control over anything had affected her more than anyone could understand.
Even Connor seemed to sense the shift, and while he might not know what had exactly they had been through, he could at least put enough pieces together to get a vague idea of the shape. "If the place is as bad as all that," he said, "it'll take lots more than jus' the t'ree of us."
Ryker nodded, releasing a relieved sigh. "Yeah."
"I'll ring up my brudder. See whut he knows."
"Your brother?" Izzie asked, turning back.
"He has a farm," Connor explained. This was the first time he had made mention of his family in the time he and Ryker had known each other. "Outside Waverly up thare. Him an' his girl, Faith. Her mamma died few years back, an' she helps 'im out. I tink Faith's seein' one of our military boys. She might be able ta get close."
"And he knows?" Ryker asked. "Your brother? He knows what sort of business you run?"
"Yassir."
Connor didn't elaborate and Ryker knew better than to push the issue. "Well, that's something."
"Seems ta me yer real trouble is dis Michael fella."
"If he doesn't already know, he's gonna be one angry mother fucker once he hears we got out." He paused. "That's why I came to you."
"It is?" Izzie asked. "I thought it was because you guys were friends."
"There's that, too." There was no good way to lure Connor into a false sense of security with what he had to ask, and the trust between them wouldn't allow for it as it was. So, inhaling deeply, Ryker pressed forward. "We need Bessy."
"No," came the immediate response.
"Who's Bessy?" Izzie asked.
"My pride an' joy." Connor's eyes narrowed, unmoving from Ryker. "An' you can't have 'er."
"You want Connor's pride and joy?" Izzie poked him in the ribs. "And here I thought you loved me."
"You love 'er?"
Ryker nodded, smiling. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd ever envisioned declaring to a woman, much less sharing with others. Yet with Izzie at his side, with the hard part behind them and the knowledge she loved him as well—even if she didn't know it—nothing seemed insurmountable. "I do."
"When did that hap'n?"
Ryker shrugged. "Just did. And I'd like to get Michael outta the way before we to move on. Which brings us back to Bessy."
"Connor's pride and joy," Izzie said.
"Ya can't have 'er."
"We're just taking her out for a spin," he reasoned.
"My Bessy!"
"Come on." Ryker quirked an eyebrow. "Sharing is caring."
"Ya can't have 'er!"
The front door exploded open without ceremony, sending Izzie back into Ryker's arms. Pieces of wood flew across the floor and a spiraling cloud of dust gathered in the open space. A man crowded the doorway—a rough, tall, broad-shouldered son of a bitch. An instantly recognizable son of a bitch, even if they had never met.
A cold, dark hatred filled Ryker's veins. His canines pulled down into fangs without warning—the way they did when a predator was near.
Just try it, asshole. Just try. She's mine now.
"Guess some introductions are in order," Izzie murmured. "Ryker, Connor, meet my friend. Zack Wright."
Chapter Nineteen
Izzie didn't see the crossbow at first, and even if she had, it wouldn't have registered. Wright rarely went anywhere without his favorite weapon—it was just as much a part of him as were his arms and legs. Never had she been on its business end, and while staring down the aged killer was frightening in its own right, a part of her felt she had been here before. Though he ha
dn't had the crossbow the night they met, she was no stranger to the look in his eyes. She had seen what was the last sight for many, and she had watched him fire without flinching.
Still, she couldn't give way to panic. In a way, she felt oddly calm.
"I thought you left town," Izzie said.
Wright's face didn't change.
"We's closed," Connor snapped, blinking out of his stupor. "Get da fuck out."
"I thought you were dead," the hunter said, his voice soft and lethal. His eyes never left Izzie's. He slid a hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew a sleek familiar dagger. "Lose something?"
Izzie's throat tightened. "You know me." She held up her hands. "Butter fingers."
"Actually, that's not you at all." He let the blade fall to the floor. In the motion, she likewise caught sight of the cross Harrison had given her—the ghost she'd carried for so long—around his neck. She didn't know where she'd lost it, though guessed in the same place she'd lost her dagger. Apparently in her absence, Wright himself had grown somewhat superstitious. She couldn't imagine why else he'd claim something he swore had no power.
"Zack . . . ."
"What the fuck have they done to you?"
"Nothing she didn't want done," Ryker spat.
Her vampire's arms tightened around her middle. Izzie hadn't even realized he still held her until that moment.
Wright's gaze shifted briefly to the place where Ryker's hand rested against her belly, and he resumed aim with the crossbow. "Perhaps you are dead," he said softly. "The Izzie I knew would never let one of them get that close."
"And the Zack I knew didn't stay in one place when he thought someone was a lost cause."
"I thought you were smart enough to come back."
Izzie shrugged. "Not my fault. And not Ryker's either, so you can put the goddamn crossbow down."
"Oh right. 'Cause you're one of his now."
"I'm mine now."
"Ah." Wright's eyebrows shot skyward. "Is that what he has you thinking?"
Ryker pulled her closer. "Just 'cause you filled her head with useless shit doesn't mean the rest of us make a habit of it."
"Oh, is that it?" Wright nodded. "So it's all on me now? They get in your head and they have you turning against one of your own?"
She rolled her eyes. "This is ridiculous."
"Yes, I suppose you think so." Wright spared Ryker a quick glance. "So let's hear it."
"It?"
"The reason your fanged whore doesn't get an arrow through the chest."
A snarl rushed through the vampire's throat. "Try it."
Wright studied him for a beat, then shrugged, taking aim. "Well, if you insist—"
"Put it down," Izzie snapped.
"In a room full of enemies? Did you know me at all?"
"Enemies?" Ryker repeated. "You're the one holding the weapon, friend."
"And you're the one holding my—"
Ryker growled again and his hold around Izzie's middle tightened. "Your what?" he demanded.
"Ooh, look at this." Wright cocked his head. "Somebody is jealous."
Izzie licked her lips and drew in a sharp breath. Despite the comfort his presence provided, perhaps it wasn't in her best interest to have this conversation while entwined with her lover. "Ryker," she whispered. "Let me go."
She felt his hesitation, and though she sensed he wanted to protest, his arm dropped without a fight. Her flesh ached with the absence of his, but at the same time she could think more clearly without him against her.
Wright wouldn't hesitate to pull that trigger. Not a blink. Perhaps if she distanced herself from Ryker, the nature of their relationship wouldn't be so obvious and therefore less of a threat.
"The night we fought," Izzie said, "I came out to find Ryker. To warn him."
Wright scoffed. "Warn him."
"You targeted him without reason."
"He knew my name," her old friend snarled, casting Ryker a derisive glance. "They don't know our names, Izzie."
Ryker snarled. "Look at me like that again, boy, and it'll be the last thing you see."
"Try it," Wright responded. "Please."
"It's not like I was handing out business cards," Izzie retorted. "I told you Prentiss knew. He knew before he grabbed me. Before any of this."
"And which one of these fucks is Prentiss?"
She sighed. "The real bad guy, Zack. We're all on the same side in this room."
"At least one of the assholes in this room has fangs. That makes him no friend of mine."
Connor grumbled. "Ain't no one gonna call me names in me own house."
"Can tell a lot about a man by the sort of company he keeps," Wright replied. "And I believe I'm the one holding the crossbow."
"Dammit, I was kidnapped!"
"And then you were set free."
"Not by Prentiss, you asshole. Where the hell do you think I've been these past few days?" Izzie stared at him, chest heaving, and she'd be lying if she said the puzzled look on Wright's face didn't provide her a gratified rush. Her head became light and the words tumbled out without review or reserve. "The lights went out and I woke up in a fucking cell in the middle of God knows where. They stripped me, bound me—"
"Who did?"
"A human, Zack. A man named Insen Briggs. He had me and Ryker caged like animals, conducting experiments—"
Wright redirected his attention to Ryker again. "You?"
"Yeah," the vampire agreed slowly. "I was one of the caged ones."
"And I'm supposed to believe you didn't touch her?"
"No. You're supposed to believe if I did, it wasn't my idea." Ryker paused. "And she enjoyed it."
"Ryker!" Izzie hissed. "Not exactly helping."
"Didn't know I was supposed to," he replied, flashing her a disarming grin. The look in his eyes reassured her even if his words did not.
She did her best to share his ease. "If you want to remain alive, I'd advise toning it down."
Out of the corner of her eye, Izzie saw Connor twitch.
Wright must have seen it as well, for his attention quickly shifted and the arrow found a new target. "And where the fuck do you think you're going?"
"To get Bessy," the bartender replied.
"Bessy?" Wright repeated.
"His pride and joy," Izzie supplied. "We were talking about her before you came in."
He frowned. "And she's here? This Bessy?"
Connor nodded. "In da other room. She prob'ly scared. Lemme tend to 'er."
It likely should have occurred to Izzie before what exactly Bessy was, but for whatever reason her revelation didn't arrive until that second. And for that reason she purposefully looked to the ground. She knew if she met Wright's gaze he would know. He could always see what others could not.
Instead, she looked at Ryker, and he looked back. And she saw love in his eyes.
She had to get him out. If Wright pulled the trigger he would not miss. That was one guarantee, and something she refused to allow. Ryker couldn't pay for the crimes of another. Not when he had done so much. Not when they had shared so much.
Not when she felt the way she did.
"I can't believe you."
Izzie glanced up, meeting Wright's cold stare. "What?"
"What you turned in to. It took so little, didn't it? After everything we've been through. Everything I taught you—"
"Everything you force-fed her," Ryker murmured.
Wright's upper lip curled. "The fuck you say?"
"You heard me." The vampire scoffed. "Oh, I know the tale. Tell me when I get something wrong. You lost someone. Someone special. Child. Wife. Sibling. Fuck, maybe all of the above. Not the nicest way to learn we exist, but it's the same old fucking song. So you harden. Become a shell of yourself. A person who barely resembles the man you were before. And several years after you've made a small but modest dent in our population, you meet her. A girl who's lost and afraid and seen better days, and in her you see herself. So that's what you try
and do. Make her you. Model her into what you've become so you won't be lonely." Ryker paused. "Here's the rub. You can mold and shape and teach her all those life lessons you wished you knew in the beginning, but she didn't come into this with your grudge."
"And I suppose you know what she came into this with?"
"Killed her father. With that dagger." Ryker waved at the blade on the floor. "And she killed two human men to free me."
Wright's nostrils flared.
"And that," Ryker continued, "was before I knew exactly how good she felt."
The words were the trigger. Izzie knew all the signs. Knew the way Wright's brow furrowed and his jaw tightened, knew the way his shoulders squared and how his hands caressed the smooth surface of his weapon. She knew them all just as surely as she knew herself. Just as she understood what her body was doing even before it acted. Just as she understood why.
Wright fired the crossbow, his aim perfect. And she was in the air, flying for the empty space before her vampire. And she understood right then—too late—what it was. The strange feeling in her chest. The need coursing through her body, the fiery connection she felt with Ryker, how he erased time and pain. How she'd felt safer with him than she had with anyone, and to what lengths she would go to preserve it.
Love. This was what love felt like. She loved him.
It was fast. The arrow pierced through flesh and bone, and though she surfed through an ocean of protesting screams, she understood the fall wouldn't kill her.
She landed in Ryker's arms, her eyes absorbing his fury and despair, the tear-strained screams ripping through his throat.
I love you.
He would save her. She knew he would. He would understand. He would know what she wanted.
He would know.
* * * * *
If Ryker had felt pain before, he didn't remember. He couldn't feel for the pressure in his chest, the sensation of being torn strand by strand down the middle, of bleeding from the inside out. Izzie lay dying in his arms, Wright's arrow protruding from her body, blood pooling out her chest and leaking from her mouth. Her eyes remained on his, blinking, fading, her light dimming to a weak glow. He was losing her.
A dry, hollow cry erupted off his lips. He hissed and snarled, his fangs bursting into his mouth. He looked at Wright—ready to attack, scream, rip him limb from limb—but the man's face, wrought with agony and shock, halted his bound. The crossbow clattered to the floor.
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