by Billi Jean
“So, what’s up?” he asked.
Torment glanced down at his boots, then back up to face him. “Hunter isn’t someone we want you getting involved with, Kincaid.”
“What makes you think I am?”
With a grunt, Torment shook his head. “There are reasons. Some of them I’m not getting into with you, but enough to say if you did get involved, you’d regret it. She seems strong, but she’s not. And right now she isn’t to be trusted. Not yet.” He raised his hand up to stop Kincaid’s immediate response. “Just trust me on this. There are things about her you don’t know. Sure, you think you do, but you don’t.”
“Like she sold her soul to Satan and spied on you all, almost getting a few of you killed before she got herself killed for Markee?”
Torment’s frown deepened. “She spied on more than just us, and her inactions might possibly be worse than her actions.”
“What? Shit, that makes no sense—”
“It does, Kincaid. She wasn’t taken at that club, remember that? Where you were spying on us?”
“She let herself be taken,” Kincaid corrected.
“And? She was tortured there, too. That wasn’t faking it. Her screams from what they were doing to her were real.”
“She allowed that, and worse, she allowed what else happened there, to your men as well as ours.”
Kincaid exhaled, realizing what Torment wasn’t saying. “She was fighting as hard as we were against Gerald.”
“Yes, there she was.”
And doesn’t that count for something? He didn’t say it, though. He scanned Torment’s expression. There was more.
“And? She tried to help the changelings.”
“Yeah, she did,” he offered.
“Spill it, Torment. I really don’t like the mystery of it all.”
Torment rubbed his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “We believe she was instructed to make it appear like she was fighting, but was the one to lead your men, and you, to the warehouse where you were taken.”
Shit. He thought about all she’d told him so far. How she’d hinted at being much worse than she was. He’d been on Grayson’s team, searching for a link to finding the men they’d lost at the club—men they still hadn’t found. They’d spotted a scientist living up in Washington State who they’d also seen on the London club tapes. They’d gone up there straightaway.
“She wasn’t in Washington until she showed up in my cell, getting me free, not adding to the sick shit they were doing.”
“She was. She was sent to Washington because she’d reported in that there was some connection between there and the club. She claimed it was a news report she’d seen on a man found electrocuted. Think about that. Who deals with electricity like her?”
Kincaid wanted to deny it all, but he’d seen the photos of Evan’s body, the marks like electrical burns on his chest.
“Just steer clear of her, Kincaid. There’s more to be answered for than you know.”
“Right,” he said.
“We found the hot water heater, but we want you to come see something else. Then you can rest.”
“I’m not tired. She’s wounded.” From a shot she took for him. But was that just part of the act? She’d seemed to know Larisa. Maybe she knew Larisa was evil because they shared the same master—or had. Or still did.
“Then come see this, because maybe you can understand our reluctance to trust Hunter again. A deal with Satan is beyond painful, Kincaid. You can’t understand how much agony he can put her through, what atrocities have been done to her, and yet, he set her free? How is that even possible?”
“Is she still bound to him? I thought you would know,” Kincaid pointed out.
“She’s not,” he said. “That, I can tell. But that could simply be part of the punishment. We don’t know. Until we do, we recommend you keep this a mission, not a time to get close to a woman we know nothing about. We don’t even know who her family was or where she was raised.”
“Right, got it. Show the way.”
Hunter, girl, what have you been doing? Why change your tune when the wolf-girl showed up? Was she there to remind you to fuck with me?
The thought wasn’t one he liked. Not at all. But then, leaving her behind wasn’t one he liked either. She’d been more involved than he thought. Grayson had warned him, a man he respected. Torment was doing the same.
So why do I feel like I want to defend her? Just turn around and hold her tight, so she knows someone believes in her?
Chapter Sixteen
Kincaid—Rick—wasn’t coming back. Hunter got that after five minutes of waiting for him. She didn’t bother to eavesdrop—she knew. Torment was explaining all the horrors she owned.
What did you expect? That he’d still defend you when you did so many terrible things?
By the way her heart felt as if it was breaking in two, she guessed she had.
“You’ve known him for what? A few months, and you’ve allowed this to happen?” she whispered to the empty room. “Stupid. Always so stupid.”
She fisted her hands until her short nails dug into her palms then tightened them even more so she punctured her skin. The pain was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.
“Nothing. Just remember, nothing is going to make up for what you did. No one will care about you—not now.” With that merry thought, she exhaled and relaxed her hands. The empty room was lined with bunk after bunk. It had clearly been used for the soldiers who kept this place safe, or went out and got more victims to torture.
She settled on the bunk farthest from the door and took her boots off, then lay on the bunk, her back to the room and pulled the covers over her head. Warmth slowly eased over her. She ignored the pain in her side and chest, but tears rolled past her control. She brushed them off angrily.
No use. Absolutely no use.
Tears wouldn’t help fix anything. Neither could she. Get this mission done and disappear. Or maybe she should just do that anyway. They had what they wanted, the directions to the changelings. They didn’t need her.
The idea took hold and really solved it all. She didn’t need to stay. No one wanted her to, anyway. It was better for Rick, too—and her, if she were honest. Already she missed him, and he’d been gone five minutes. If Satan found out she cared for Rick Kincaid, his life would be in jeopardy.
But to leave…without a goodbye or anything?
She slipped deeper into her misery. She’d not see Kincaid again, but maybe that was for the best. Another tear slipped down her cheek, but she ignored it.
Sleep is so close.
She hugged her knees to her chest and decided to rest first, then leave. A catnap, then when he was sleeping, she’d take off.
Easy, and much less of a problem for all of them. Torment would keep Kincaid out of trouble and safe. She didn’t need to worry over him. He’d be better off without her.
Something, a sound, woke her. It felt as if she’d slept for days. Her eyes were fuzzy with sleep, but then she realized she was under the covers, so maybe that was it.
“I can’t believe you would sleep. Do you need to?”
Larisa?
Hunter threw the covers off and twisted to face the evil bitch. “What are you doing here?”
And how did she get in?
Larisa was leaning on the bunk bed, watching her. Kincaid still wasn’t around. Larisa had changed out of her porn gown and wore normal clothes. If a skintight sweater over her enormous boobs—those had to be fake—and leggings that left nothing to the imagination could be called normal.
“I thought we could talk. Alone.” Larisa leaned forward.
“Where is Demetry?”
Larisa shrugged. “I left him when he was out.”
That was vague. “Is he your mate?”
“That male? He believes so,” Larisa said. “It serves its purpose,” she added. “Men can be helpful, and he is very helpful when I want him to be.”
“Oh?” Hunter sat up and got her boo
ts on.
“Why else tolerate them when there are better things to be had than their weak attempts at pleasure? But you would not know such things,” she added with a smirk.
“Why is that?” Hunter was even more puzzled.
Why is this bitch be here now? And talking to me? And why isn’t Torment sensing her here?
“Well, you are damaged, and even when you weren’t, you didn’t realize what willing devotion and obedience could earn you.”
Willing devotion and obedience.
A chill settled over Hunter’s scalp and slid like cold oil down her spine.
Larisa is one of Satan’s.
She had to be. The body, the odd madness to her eyes, the snow… If the men they’d sent to Trouble weren’t mages, who had created the geyser after Hunter had hurt Larisa? Powers like that came with a price. A very high price, but by the light shining in her eyes, whatever the price, it had been a willing cost.
So why did Lucifer send her and not simply send a demon—or come himself?
“Why are you here? How did you get here?” Hunter demanded, not up to deciphering the weird comments. If Satan had sent her… Larisa would want something from her.
“Have you seen my backpack?” Hunter edged away from her, scanning the room for her backpack as an excuse. “Ah, here.” She found it, picked it up and sat it by her feet. “So, again, how did you get here? And why are you here?”
“I was brought here,” Larisa said with a smile, as if that was wonderful. “I came to talk to you, of course. Didn’t I say so?”
“Right.” Hunter eased away from the craziness. If she could get enough room, she could leave and try to build a gate down the hall. “Well, I’m not sure there’s anything you have to say that I want to hear.”
Where is Kincaid?
She glanced at her watch. She’d slept for three hours and he was still gone. “But go on, talk.”
“You don’t have to suffer like this.” Larisa lifted a lip. “No one will ever want near you like that, and truly, why put yourself through such pain? It is painful, still, isn’t it?”
At her words the stab wound ached, but not her face. Her hands tingled though, and her feet felt odd. “It’s no more painful than the gunshot. How did you do that? Wake that man—who yeah, wasn’t a mage. How did you make the snow blow up like a storm?”
“I can do many things, Hunter. You can, as well—much more than before,” she scoffed, walking toward her. “Your electric currents are sharper now, aren’t they? Even when he punishes, he gives us gifts.”
Icy cold pain settled around Hunter’s heart. She had known Satan would never leave her alone. He’d freed her, but not really. Aubrey was wrong about that, which meant they all were—all her friends, or once upon a time friends. Were they wrong about her being immortal? Does it matter?
Not really. What’s a lifetime of this loneliness and pain?
“Now you can do more, can’t you? He’s done this for you.” Larisa stopped a few feet from her and sniffed disdainfully. “All you have to do is serve him properly this time.”
Properly? “Right, well, Larisa, I hate to correct your info, but no one did this to me but me.” She let that sink in then added, “I will never do his dirty work again. Not in a million years, and if you’re smart, Larisa, you’ll never come to me with such shit again.”
Larisa stiffened and her eyes widened in shock. “You would deny him?”
“Deny him? If I could, I’d ram a stake through his heart and let those creatures downstairs eat him for lunch!”
She shook, not with fear, but with anger. No one, not Lucifer, not Torment, not even Kincaid, was making her do anything that she didn’t want. No one. Enough was enough.
“So stick that in your damn pipe and smoke it, bitch,” she snarled.
Larisa’s open-mouthed outrage was almost comical. She recovered quickly and glared at Hunter as if she’d disgraced her grandmother.
“You whore! How can you say such things? I will kill you now, little witch, and when you return to him, he will make you pay. Oh how he will make you pay,” she whispered, creepy as heck.
Larisa’s posture changed, alerting her more than the door sliding open that something was up. Her head was still bursting with anger, but she caught the flex of Larisa’s shoulders and dove for her just as she brought a knife up to throw. Thankfully that was enough to knock her aim off. Hunter heard it hit a wall then Kincaid’s curse.
“Damn. What the hell?” he yelled.
“Bitch, do not ever do that again,” Hunter threatened, tumbling Larisa to the ground as she did. Surprising her, the wolf had some moves and got back up, delivering a punch to the face Hunter didn’t dodge quickly enough. The sting to her already wounded cheek then a knee to her gunshot wound merely pissed her off. The added adrenaline pumped through her until she felt as if she might explode if she didn’t kick the shit out of the she-wolf.
Hunter aimed a strike for Larisa’s stomach and hit her mark. Larisa’s gasp was so awesome, Hunter landed another right after the first. Keeping the advantage, she grabbed Larisa’s arm and tugged her to her knees. Larisa tried to reach another knife at the same time as she wacked Hunter in the head with hers. Hunter lost her balance, but managed to knock the knife out of Larisa’s grip. They scrambled to their feet with Hunter still in possession of Larisa’s hand. With a savage blow to Hunter’s temple, the woman got loose enough to catch her with an arm around Hunter’s throat. Larisa pulled her up close, knife to her neck, to face a shocked Kincaid.
He had his gun out and aimed, but didn’t fire.
“Just shoot her,” Hunter cried. “What are you waiting for?”
He reared back his head as if she’d swung at him. “Are you fucking nuts? She’s got a knife to your throat.”
“Great, just fucking great,” Hunter muttered. “Always have to do it on my own. Always.” She bit down on the bitch’s arm, hit her with an elbow in the kidneys and stomped on her instep, following through with tossing Larisa over her shoulder when she doubled over.
Larisa hit hard but stayed down for only a second before she rolled for Hunter. The wolf was like a crazy possessed person. Soon her head would spin around and she’d vomit on them hard enough to make Stephen King envious.
Hunter kicked her in the gut and backhanded her hard enough to draw blood. Kincaid still didn’t do a thing.
“I have to do it all, don’t I? I should have left, just hit the road, for all the fucking support I get from anyone. Fucking sonofabitch, I hate this shit. Absolutely hate it,” Hunter cried, dodging the wolf’s counter-attack and managing a solid punch to her face. Would she always have to protect herself and everyone around her from Lucifer? “I’m going to beat you right back to hell, right where you belong,” she swore.
“And I’m going to take him with me. I’m going to kill him, take him from you, then we’ll see what you will or won’t do,” Larisa promised, nailing Hunter with an uppercut on the chin that made her bite her tongue.
Hunter held in the tears because yeah, it hurt.
Larisa got too close, and right when she took one more step, Hunter slugged her in the nose, then mouth, with two quick jabs. One good thing about working with Vik, he hadn’t taken her no, she didn’t want to learn self-defense seriously. He’d just kept at it until she’d been mad enough at him to fight back.
Larisa gasped and held her lip, eyes narrowed down at her fingers and the blood covering them. Immediately she dove back in, ramming into Hunter so hard it felt as if Larisa had stabbed her in the stomach with a knife, not her shoulder.
The woman was wicked strong and twisted out of the way of Hunter’s kick, then grabbed something at her thigh. She lifted her arm and another knife was in her hand, this one aimed at Kincaid.
“How many fucking knives do you have, bitch?” Hunter knocked her legs out from under her, not bothering to wait for an answer. Enough was enough. “If you’re not helping, you can fucking leave, Kincaid!”
“Shit,
I’m trying!” he shouted.
How, she wanted to snarl, but she concentrated on the wrestling match instead. She rolled with Larisa and they fought for the knife, until, with a shout, Larisa broke free and hit Hunter in the stomach. The impact was so startling Hunter didn’t take it seriously. Then time slowed down, way down, and she thought she could feel the metal tear through her flesh inch by inch.
With a whoosh, time sped up.
Hunter fell back, staring at the knife, stunned speechless. A chill settled in the room. She blinked, not quiet able to connect the reality of her stomach with a knife hilt stuck in it.
“Fuck!” Kincaid tore Larisa off her, but the wolf was already shimmering even as he did, and a moment later, she was gone.
Time slowed down again, so that every inch of Rick’s face came into focus, larger than life. He looked distraught. “Hunter—”
She blinked and that time speeding up thing happened again. With it came the panic she couldn’t stop.
“Fuck, don’t touch me!” Her legs gave out and she landed hard against a bunk, but all she could comprehend was the hilt of the knife sticking out of her stomach. Other, horrifying images tried to break free, along with an odd sensation of helplessness and fear.
“Hunter, shit, I—”
“Get out of here!” she screamed, more at the memories demanding attention than Kincaid, but he froze and she took that as a sign. He needed to go. Get away from her. “Just fucking leave already!”
The knife ground into her ribs when she yelled, surely breaking them, because it hurt. It hurt beyond bad. Kincaid grimaced. He was in such a wild state she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t tackle her down and pull the knife out.
The door slammed open and Torment was there, with Orin a step behind. She registered their shocked faces, Kincaid’s panicked scowl, but everything else disappeared under the onslaught of pain and building panic.
Enough. Enough is enough.
She whispered a spell, hoping and praying she could make it work. Behind her, she felt the bunk shudder. She sobbed in relief and fell backward, quickly curled onto her side, and pulled her legs through as her spell began to unravel.