Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  Oh god. Christian was probably somewhere, ready to cut her off.

  How had they found her so fas-- a tracker. He'd probably slapped one of those ugly black trackers on her back in Egypt.

  “Excuse me. Pardon me,” she said, moving quickly around the main lobby for the doors. It was riskier to be out there but she'd take her chances over the idea that the Templars long reach could sway the security here to turn her over if they asked.

  Or, he could just pose as the CIA agent again.

  Panicked, her thoughts ran wild, even into sarcasm.

  She felt trapped, suffocated. Like there was no where she could go to get away from them. Years ago, Minna had predicted that one day, the time would come when they would have to go back to the Garden of Eden just to survive. Technology would catch up with them, leaving them no alternative but to seek refuge in that hidden sanctuary. As beautiful as it was, as peaceful and safe, Evelyn wasn't willing to concede defeat yet. Especially not without Gen, Alex and Minna.

  Straight from the doors, she broke into a run. Several people outright stared. All she cared about was that no one tried to stop her. Rushing headlong, she navigated the pathways, refusing to look behind her to see how much ground Rhett had closed between them. Making it to the sidewalk that ran along the Strip, she didn't turn down it; instead, she darted right into traffic, one hand slapping down on the hot hood of a car that barked its tires and screeched to a sudden halt. The driver swore at her in two different languages.

  “Evelyn!” Behind her, Rhett shouted her name.

  Too close. He was much closer than she thought he might be already.

  Spurred on, she leapt away from that car and around the nose of another, enduring another round of curses from a driver who'd not been paying attention thanks to a scantily clad woman on the other side of the road. Nearly knocking her down, he stood on the brakes and scowled.

  Evelyn only caught fleeting glimpses, breath short in her throat, her path through the vehicles hectic and bold. They were drawing attention with their mad scramble. She didn't care.

  Making it to the other side, she pushed through people, hearing his footsteps behind her. Closer.

  “Evelyn!”

  She didn't even look back.

  The bastard.

  Ten steps later, just as she was about to cut up through the property of another hotel, she felt an arm like a steel band grab her around the middle. In blurry glimpses, she saw people staring and whispering behind their hands even as a rough palm closed over her mouth.

  Rhett risked looking like he was kidnapping her all so she wouldn't let out a scream and draw even more attention. Kicking wildly, she struggled while he growled near her ear.

  “Stop it. Just settle down for a second.” Bodily manhandling her, he stalked to a taxi sitting on a side street and yanked open the back door.

  “Hey mister, I'm waiting for--”

  “CIA. They'll have to catch another ride,” Rhett said to the driver, pushing Evelyn in.

  CIA her bloody backside!

  She screamed against his palm, making such a ruckus that several people stopped and frowned, looking on the verge of interrupting. Rhett's CIA announcement kept a few that might have intervened away. He was unbelievable.

  Jamming her foot against the seat, she tried to make it harder for him to get the door closed. He snarled, pushing at the back of her knee with a hand to bend her leg, thus forcing her across the seat whether she wanted to go or not. Rhett snapped an address she didn't recognize to the driver. His tone brooked no argument. Cheek against the cushion, furious at his greater strength even when injured, she bit his hand. The taxi lurched forward.

  “Man, this ain't right--” The driver, casting worried looks in the rear view, started protesting the rough treatment.

  “Shut up and drive or I'll have you brought in for impeding an arrest.” Rhett glared at the driver until he looked away.

  Impeding an arrest. The nerve.

  Evelyn clawed at his arm, kicked his leg. She wasn't going down without a fight. The weight of his body suddenly came down over hers when he spoke near her ear.

  “You're making it worse. Stop fighting me. I'm not going to hurt you.”

  She lobbed sarcastic insults against his smothering hand. Evelyn didn't believe him. Wouldn't believe him. What she needed to do was save her energy for when the taxi stopped. Stilling, breathing hard, she saw glimpses of shiny buildings and racing lights as the taxi took back streets through the busy city.

  Rhett's breath was warm on her ear.

  “I don't know what you think you know, but you're wrong. Listen to me, Evelyn. I can help you if you'll just take a few minutes to hear me out.”

  Along with his good looks, Rhett had talent for persuasion. She desperately wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that their chemistry wasn't a figment of her imagination and that there was a very real, very good explanation for all this.

  His deception was too raw, however. Too new. Too shocking. She couldn't just forget thousands of years of being hunted. Of death. The Templars had instilled fear into her very foundation.

  And he was one of them.

  She ranted at him in her mind, the words muffled into his hand. He meant to subdue her by placating her until he had her in some other basement in a place no one would ever find her, so they could continue the torture they'd started.

  Eveyln felt bile rise up the back of her throat at the thought of Rhett hurting her like that.

  Pinned against the seat by his bulky frame, she could only wait out this part of the ride. Nothing he said changed her mind. Somehow, an opening would present itself when the taxi stopped and then she intended to escape him.

  Before it was too late.

  “I have information about one of your friends—your sisters. Whatever they are. You need to settle down. This is serious, Evelyn.”

  The low gravel of his voice, the levity in the words shot a stab of fear through her. She hadn't expected him to take that tack, to use her sisters as a bargaining tool. What had they found? What had they done? Did they have the girls in their possession? Were they going to use them as hostages and threaten their lives if she didn't tell them where the Garden of Eden was? It was one thing to endure their torture and another to know that if she didn't cooperate, they would take it out on Minna, Genevieve or Alexandra. Disgusted and afraid, she swallowed down a thick knot of apprehension.

  “I mean it, Evelyn. Don't try anything stupid. You need to listen to me,” he said, speaking too low for even the driver to hear.

  The cab came to a stop.

  “Say anything about what you've seen and I'll bring hell down on your head,” Rhett threatened the driver.

  She felt him shift and saw a glimpse of money transferred across the front seat. Rhett manhandled her back out of the car and she was momentarily blinded by the sun gleaming off the metal side of a warehouse. He trapped her against his body with one arm around her shoulders, hand still across her mouth. Evelyn struggled against him to no effect. Even with one arm and his injury, he was all power, too strong for her to break free from.

  When he turned her away from the taxi, she caught a glimpse of the Union Plaza. They were downtown somewhere, probably on the outskirts judging by the distance to the hotel, where old buildings and train tracks sat useless and empty.

  All of it happened in a few seconds, a blur of turns and awkward steps that brought them to the door of the warehouse. She could tell it had been abandoned a long time ago by the debris clustered against the base of the walls and the extreme state of the chipped white paint covering the outside.

  He opened the sliding door with a squeal that had the same effect as nails on chalkboard. Evelyn winced at the ear piercing sound. He guided her inside and closed the door behind them.

  The taxi took off with a bark of tires. Evelyn wanted to shout at the driver for not even attempting to help her.

  High, rectangular windows lined the top of the building, allowing late aft
ernoon sunlight to pour down on the pocked cement floor. She saw dust motes filtering through the mellow glow. There wasn't anything else inside the warehouse except two mismatched folding chairs and a folding table sitting between them. Evelyn took it all in just before Rhett let her go.

  Spinning around, glaring, she brought a hand up to her mouth where his had clamped across it.

  “You have some nerve kidnapping me right off the street and bringing me here--”

  “It has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with your survival. I couldn't very well have this conversation out on the street or in your hotel room where you could scream us into a bad situation that I don't want to explain to the local authorities,” he said, bringing a hand up to briefly rub at his shoulder.

  The same shoulder she must have shot. Faced off with him, she kept a cautious distance between them. It hurt, his betrayal and deception. As angry as she was, there was also pain.

  “What did you expect considering that you lied to me the whole time about who you really are.”

  “And how do you know exactly who or what I am? I know, I know,” he said, taking his hand away from his shoulder. A spot of red dotted his palm. Blood. “You saw the tattoo. But not many people know what it is or what it means anymore.”

  Breathing harshly, she glanced around for other exits. Some other way out. There were two other sets of doors far across the warehouse, the same sliding kind he'd brought her in through.

  “Don't even think about it,” he growled when he saw her looking. “Don't you get it yet? I'm on your side.”

  “My side? I hardly think so!” she shouted, pacing behind one of the chairs. She rubbed at her forehead and scowled at him. “You know damn well what the tattoo means. You know who and what I am, as well, so stop playing like you don't.”

  Rhett threw his hands up. “How many times do I have to tell you that I have no idea why those men grabbed you?”

  “Liar. You're one of them,” she accused with a point of her finger. For the first time in years, her bravado felt as fragile as glass. She had to keep swallowing against a growing lump in the back of her throat. It was all just too much.

  He took a stalking step closer. Evelyn took one back.

  “How do you know that? We don't talk about who and what we are to anyone else. How do you know what the tattoo means?” he asked again, quieter.

  “Why do you keep pretending--”

  “Just answer the question, Evelyn, for god's sake. Can't you just answer me honestly and clear the air?”

  “You want honest when you can't give it yourself? What a crock, Rhett.” She paced the same three foot line, back and forth behind the chair.

  “I played at being a CIA agent to gain your trust, yes, but also because I had no idea what was going on. What happened to you? That's not how we do things,” he said.

  He surprised her by admitting he wasn't a real CIA agent. She frowned and stopped pacing just behind the chair, like she needed some sort of physical barrier between them.

  “How could you not know? You knew where to find me. You were probably one of the ones who--”

  “Don't suggest I was one of the ones who tortured you again. I knew you were there because we'd followed the men who did torture you, like I said, but we had no idea what they were up to. Or why. When I heard what was going on outside the room they had you in, I acted first and thought later.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” Evelyn tamped down the surge of hope that flared in her chest. He was lying again, softening her up so he could more easily extract information out of her.

  “Yes, I do,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and widened the stance of feet to balance his weight between them.

  Evelyn didn't see it as an intimidating gesture but one that allowed him to stay mobile and agile if she decided to bolt.

  “Well, I'm sorry if I can't just take you at your word. Not after all this.”

  “This would go a lot easier if you'd just tell me what they wanted with you and your friends, or your sisters, to begin with.”

  “I don't know.”

  “Now who's lying?”

  Evelyn gusted out an exasperated breath and traded glares with him. He looked so masculine standing there with that expression on his face. One that asked her to trust him. It made her irritable. The whole situation scared her half to death.

  “I'm not going to tell you anymore than I told your comrades. Which was nothing.” She'd slipped and called the girls her sisters which was bad enough. Evelyn couldn't figure out why he hadn't called in back up yet or strapped her down for more torture. He was trying to coax it out of her using the connection they had between them.

  “Why do you sound so seasoned when you say that? Like this is something you've done before?”

  Startled at his quiet insight, she glanced away from his eyes.

  “Mhm,” he muttered, as if that gesture clued him in that he was correct.

  Damn him.

  “Why can't you all just let us live? Why can't you let it go, finally, and just move on?” she asked in return.

  He frowned in obvious frustration. “Let what go? What did they want with you?”

  “I'm not telling you anything.” She felt the walls of her will tremble. Rhett kept battering at her defenses and she had no where to go to escape him.

  “This isn't just about us. There's something more here, something deeper. Your trust issues aren't solely because I lied to you.”

  “You're very astute, Rhett,” she said, deciding not to argue what was plain to see. “I just can't believe that you don't know what's going on though. Not when you're wearing that tattoo.”

  “So you know that we're Templars.”

  She shuddered at the word coming out of his mouth. He'd just admitted to being her enemy. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? She said nothing, breaking the stare between them. Evelyn couldn't look at him. Looking at him, with the warm feeling that wanted to blossom out through her system at his presence, did not work in her favor keeping him at arm's length.

  “How did you know? No one outside the immediate families know besides the Church and a few people very high up in the American Government. It's a carefully guarded fact that we exist,” he said.

  “I just do. And I know that you all do horrible things, which I don't need to tell you considering what you are and how you found me. What I also can't believe is that the Church condones this.” Her disgust couldn't be more thorough or complete.

  “We don't always do horrible things. I can see how you'd think so though if all the experience you've had with them is what went on in that basement. I can also tell you that the Church absolutely does not condone that kind of behavior.”

  “You killed Galiana--”

  “Don't generalize, Evelyn. I didn't kill her. And I don't know why the other Templars did, either. One more time—I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on.”

  “I don't believe you and I certainly don't trust you, so all we're going to do here is keep going in circles.” She hated how sincere he sounded. Hated the level look in his eyes when she glanced up from the floor. Could he be that good of a liar? Of course. Look how long he deceived you about being an agent. The devil on her shoulder kept whispering dark tidings, keeping her barriers from crumbling.

  Rhett yanked the other chair back and sat down, stretching his long legs out. Hooking his ankles, he crossed his arms over his chest. For all the world, he looked like he was settling in for a long wait.

  “Then we're going to sit here and talk about it until you trust me. Because I'm not letting you out of my sight until we've figured this out.”

  “You can't keep me here--”

  “Watch me.”

  He might have spoken quietly, but Evelyn didn't mistake that he meant every word. In the short time she'd known him, she'd discovered that when he set his mind to something he usually saw it through to the end. Exasperated, she realized that she wasn't quite as on edge
as she'd been when she first saw him. He was already wearing her down, trying to get under her skin.

  She hated that it was working despite the fear and caution that clanged like hazard warnings in her mind.

  “We're at an impasse, Rhett. I don't need to tell you anything because you already know it, and I'm sure it's just another way to make me feel better so that when you ask where the girls are--”

  “Genevieve is dead, Evelyn.” His voice took a grave turn and his expression showed sympathy for the ugly news he had to deliver.

  She froze in place and stared at his eyes. There were no lies, no deception, to read there.

  Genevieve. Dead.

  Denial kicked in. She wanted to call him out for using such an underhanded tactic, but instinct told her as well as his demeanor that he wasn't lying. Galiana and now Genevieve.

  A sob stuck in her throat and she turned away from him, burying her face in her palms. He'd effectively stripped her of her ability to function. She couldn't retaliate or shout or do anything but catch hot tears on her fingertips and try to remember to breathe. Evelyn was aware that Rhett was the one who'd comforted her last time when she'd broken down about a sister; this time he kept his distance, like he knew it would be too much to impose himself upon her while the wound was so fresh.

  “How?” she finally managed to whisper.

  “They tortured her and cut out her heart. They found her hanging from a beam by her wrists.” Rhett did not sugar coat the horror. He laid it out plainly, with a dark edge to the words. “And if you don't let me help you, they'll eventually find you and do the same thing to you.”

  The fight had been sucked out of her. Distantly she wondered if he'd planned it this way. Grief made anger easier to grab onto. She whirled on him, cheeks flushed and tear stained, one hand raising to point an accusing finger.

  “And you're here to make me feel helpless and hopeless so that I'll tell you where it is. Obviously my sisters didn't give it up, so now you'll use a different brand of torture to force my hand.” She didn't realize she was shouting until her voice echoed back at her through the enormous warehouse.