“I lived with the people in that room over there and even after they knew who I was—a meta assassin sent by Williams—they gave me the chance for a new life. They’re good people, Slider. They are my family, and I will not hand them over to that sick son-of-a-bitch back in Germany so he can torture and kill them. I’d rather die.
“So decide; make it quick, because if you chose wrong, I will end you. You have to know that. If you make the right move, and help us stand against Williams, you’ll have gained a family, like I did.
Slider hung onto every word Creed said. He was piecing together all that he had gathered from life at the Facility with what he was being told and had to admit there was a lot of truth to what this guy was saying.
“What’s your take on this?” Slider nudged the barrel of his gun into the back of Gavil’s head.
“Me? Hell, I'm just here for the free drinks,” he growled.
Slider wasn’t in the mood. He cocked his gun and said, “Don’t screw around with me, Gavil. I know how much you hate your brother. You can’t fake years of beatings. Why are you taking his side now?”
Gavil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I hate the golden boy. Always have. But this time we have the same enemy. Williams is number one on my hit list, and my reasons for that are my own. We take out Williams, then we all go our separate ways. Let pretty- boy over there have the white picket fence and house in the ‘burbs with snot-nosed mutant meta kids. I don’t give a shit. All I want is Williams’ head on a damn stick.”
Slider hesitated for a moment before stepping off Gavil’s back and lowering the gun to his side. “I’ve seen some seriously messed up shit at the Facility myself. I just want my freedom. If I went AWOL, Williams would hunt me down. I know that. Yeah, I have reasons of my own to want his ass dead.” Slider grimaced slightly.
“I know you know this is a serious decision. Once made, there’s no turning back. If you betray us, I’ll make it my life’s work to hunt you down and kill you. Clear?” Creed’s blue eyes crackled with a blaze of fire as he felt an overwhelming wave of protectiveness for the people in the next room. He had no memories of them other than the dreams of the dark-eyed beauty, but somehow he knew he would lay down his life for them. He was walking on faith now.
Gavil stood his full height, dusted off his fatigues and rolled his shoulders working out the tension there from being held to the floor with a bullet trained to the back of his head for the last ten minutes.
Creed watched Slider’s face for signs of treachery, but only saw a look of resolve. The three soldiers, who had been sent to kill the Winter clan, stood in a loose triangle. Creed held his hand out to Slider who regarded it with thought before slipping his weapon into its holster, freeing his right hand, and reaching out to meet Creed in the middle. They clasped hands and shook on their agreement.
“I’m not looking for a family, but we have the same goal. I’m in.” Slider cocked his head thoughtfully before adding, “You have my word on it.”
Creed nodded, respecting the soldier’s stance.
“Great. Glad we got that settled.” Gavil reached down and picked up the nearest weapons, securing them in the holster at his waist.
Creed turned and walked back to the people in the other room, desperate to see the girl. The two metasoldiers followed.
She was laying on her back next to the two other metahumans—her brothers. She wore black running shorts and a black T-shirt. He had the impulse to reach out to touch her skin, but didn’t. Somehow, touching her when she was unconscious seemed very wrong. Instead, he crouched beside her and studied her face. She was absolutely beautiful in her sleep. Her suntanned skin was perfectly smooth. Her lips were shaped like a bow, plump and soft. He wondered if he ever kissed those lips and frowned as he tried to remember. How could he forget kissing this angel?
“We’re going to have to contact Williams soon. He’s expecting us to check in,” Gavil’s voice interrupted Creed’s thoughts.
Creed nodded, not removing his eyes from the girl. “Yeah, we need to buy some time. The female here may wake soon. The males will need at least another thirty minutes before they wake. The humans are going to need more time.”
“You know he’s going to want to hear from you,” Gavil prompted after another moment of silence.
Creed stood abruptly, ripping his eyes away from the girl of his dreams and pulled his cell phone from one of the many pockets in his fatigues. He punched one number, and the speed dial handled the rest.
“Yes?”
“Sir, Creed Young checking in.”
“Mr. Young, tell me you have good news for me.”
“The ranch is secure; we caught them completely off guard and suffered no casualties ourselves during the siege. All three metahumas have been tranqued. Margo Winter is dead.”
The wicked scientist was actually giggling. Creed wanted to reach through the phone and choke the life out of the bloody monster.
“Excellent, Mr. Young. Please put your brother on the phone.”
“Yes, sir.”
Creed held the phone out to Gavil who took it with a grimace. His voice gave nothing away. “Gavil here, sir.”
“Gavil, my boy! Is everything Creed said, true? Have you captured the three metahumans? Is the woman dead?”
“Yes, sir. We’re working on loading the metahumans into vehicles for transport.”
“Wonderful! You have truly proven yourself, Gavil.”
“Just following orders, sir.”
“Yes, of course. Call me once you’re airborne to check in. Put Creed back on the line.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gavil handed the phone back to Creed. “Creed here, sir.”
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
His words felt like a punch to the throat. He had been trying not to stare at Meg and felt caught in the act.
“Sir?”
“Oh, come now, my boy. We’re both men. A beautiful woman is a thing to behold. And Meg is especially precious because of her gifts. She is my masterpiece, my magnum opus. I imagine her children would be just as exceptional, but no one can compare to the original M57. Treat her with care, Creed. Bring her home to me, and I will reward you well. I may even allow you to have your way with her so we could create the next generation with fresh DNA strands. What do you think of that, my boy? Wouldn’t it be lovely to have that creature forced into submission?”
Creed’s face had been turning deeper and deeper red as he listened to the vile filth spewing from the scientist’s mouth. He wanted to rip the blackened heart from the man’s chest with his bare hands. But right now, the monster was waiting for a response. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t open his mouth for a moment because his jaw was locked in rage. How dare he sully the act of loving this angel?
Creed swallowed hard.
“Sir, we’ll contact you once we’re airborne.”
“Yes, yes…so much planning to do. So little time! Goodbye, son.”
The line went dead. Creed resisted the urge to smash the phone like tinfoil in his hand.
“What the hell was that about?” Gavil and Slider had been busy collecting dead meta bodies, stripping them of their weapons and dragging them into a pile by the back door.
Creed shook his head, heart pounding in his ears as he relayed Williams’ conversation.
Gavil just stared at his little brother with narrow, hate-filled eyes. “He’s one sick bastard.”
Slider’s eyes slowly widened and darkened. “You guys haven’t told me the half of it, have you? There’s a lot of sick shit going on with Williams, isn’t there?”
“I’m worried even we don’t know the half of it, but the more I learn, the more sure I am he needs to stop walking this Earth with the rest of us. He belongs in hell.” Creed reached down and carefully slipped his strong arms under the girl, lifting her easily and walked her to the sofa to lay her there. He couldn’t stand seeing her lay like an animal on the ground…especially not after what Williams just said.
<
br /> He grabbed the throw draped over the back of the sofa and carefully covered the girl’s body, now feeling self-conscious for looking at her long bare legs and bare midriff peeking out from the cropped Lycra running shirt she wore. Everything about her was precious to Creed, and he needed to help her maintain that purity especially as she was so defenseless right now. He would never let anyone hurt her again.
The three got back to work cleaning up the ranch. All fourteen bodies of the dead soldiers were gathered. Creed was worried about how the family would react to the pile of bodies, so he asked his brother to take care of them.
“What do you suggest I do with them?” he asked after they loaded the last body. They had stacked them inside two vans.
“When we were driving, there was construction going on at the south side of Dallas. It looked as if they were pouring a cement foundation for a new structure. Do you remember the area I’m talking about? We talked about the traffic it was causing with all the construction vehicles.”
Gavil was nodding as he thought back to a few hours ago. “That could work perfectly. Good idea, brother.” He slapped Creed on the back before calling over to Slider. “Yo, Slide. You ready?”
Slider sauntered to the brothers and nodded. “We got a plan for them?”
“Oh, yeah.” Gavil climbed into the driver’s seat of the nearest van. “Just follow me and be careful. Getting pulled over by the cops could add a lot of unnecessary excitement to our day.”
Slider smirked before sprinting back to the other van and starting the engine.
“Gavil, you’re going to have to be real discreet at the site. Can you do that?”
“Dude, are you asking me if I can be a sneaky son of a bitch?” he shook his head laughing. “Good luck with them when they wake up. If I come back and they have you hog-tied, it could make the next part of our plan a little difficult.”
Creed nodded. “Yeah, this is going to be tricky, but it would be trickier if they woke to a pile of bodies in the back room. Thanks for taking care of them.”
“You can thank me when I get back. Dude, if something happens, I need to say something to…”
“We can talk more when you get back.” Creed interrupted.
Gavil breathed deeply and glanced again at the brother he’d felt so much anger toward for so many years. “Right, later.”
He put the car into drive and pulled away from the ranch house, Slider following closely behind. Creed watched the two white vans bounce down the gravel drive for a moment before turning back toward the house and walking in.
First thing he noticed when he stepped into the living room was that Meg wasn’t on the sofa where he’d left her ten minutes before. He scanned the room quickly noting all the others were accounted for, even the coyote. The throw he’d placed over her was tossed to the ground.
Uh, oh.
“Meg?” he called. “Meg, where are you?”
Chapter 32 Home is Where the Metas Are
Her head was pounding, but Meg forced herself to open her eyes. She looked around and realized she was on the sofa in the living room, but had no memory of how she got here. Meg sat up and held her head for a moment trying to remember what happened.
Cole and I were running together. We started racing.
She pinched her eyes closed trying to see through the fog on her brain that wouldn’t dissipate fast enough.
Something happened to Cole. He was hit.
Oh my God! We were under attack!
She flew off the sofa, heart racing at the flood of adrenaline and that’s when she saw her entire family laying on the floor behind the sofa. Meg ran to her mother first and shook her.
Frantic, she pressed her mouth to Margo’s ear and whispered, “Mom, wake up! Mom!”
Her body felt warm, but she had to know for sure. She felt around carefully for a pulse in her mother’s neck.
Oh, thank God.
She darted to each of the others checking their pulses and trying to rouse someone. Everyone was alive, but unresponsive. She knew she must only have a matter of minutes if Williams’ metasoldiers were here. That’s when she heard a car’s engine start in the back of the house. Then a second engine started.
They’re coming back to get us.
Meg ran to the window to peek. Two white vans were parked in the back of the house, idling. She couldn’t see anyone yet, but they had to be there. Maybe they were in the lab looking for more serum. Maybe they were setting explosives around the house to blow us up. Maybe they’re coming in to torture my family into submission. Her mind was racing with the plausible and implausible. She heard the back door open and footsteps. She ran toward the kitchen to find a weapon. Meg was reaching for a knife from the butcher block when she heard a low distinctive voice call her name. Meg froze.
Creed? Creed did this to my family? Her jaw locked with a fury she could barely contain.
Slowly, she slipped the eight inch, razor-sharp knife from its sheath and held it behind her back in a white-knuckled fist before walking toward the living room on silent feet. She peeked around the door frame and saw him. Meg had to stifle a gasp. Creed was alive and standing right in her living room. He was dressed for battle—fatigues, weapons dripping off his narrow hips. Black leather straps crossing his chest harboring more weapons. The handles of the knives glinted sunlight into her eyes.
How dare he come to hurt us after we opened our home to him?
A fleeting thought tried to catch her attention through her burgeoning fury. I should be trying to read his intentions.
She should be using her gift to understand what was happening to him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t see past the emotional tsunami threatening to drown her in the anguish of his betrayal.
Creed’s back was turned toward her when she could hold herself back no longer. She flew at him, launching herself over the sofa and kicking him squarely in the back of his neck. He staggered, and spun to face her.
“Meg!” The look on his face was pure surprise.
Good.
“How could you?” Meg’s voice matched her anger as she flung herself around to deliver a perfect round-house kick to his jaw. He stumbled back, but righted himself quickly.
“Meg, let me explain,” he started, hands held up defensively.
“Explain!” She fumed. “My family is lying unconscious on the floor over there and you’re the only one standing here with an arsenal on your waist!”
She grabbed her knife by the tip of the blade and threw it with all her strength directly at his chest. It flew handle over tip, barely registering the glints of sunlight in its blur across the room. Creed spun, reached out at the same time and met the blade with his open hand, catching it by the blade with a solid sounding thwack.
His abdomen pumped in and out as his breathing quickened, his adrenaline pumping. His dark-blue eyes watched her watch him. Without looking down, he opened his hand. Blood was pooling in his palm as the blade had cut him deeply, wedging itself at an angle.
With his left hand, he reached over and yanked the blade out and placed it neatly on the sofa table beside him. Creed slowly made a fist, locking his jaw as he did. Blood dripped from his hand as if he was squeezing a tomato instead of cut flesh.
The look in his face was unreadable.
Desperate to get him away from her family to give them time to regain consciousness, Meg made a split-second decision. She turned and bolted from the room, through the kitchen and ran toward the barn. From behind her, she heard him giving chase.
“You’re going to have to let me talk with you, Meg.” His deep voice carried easily across the distance between their two racing bodies and right to Meg’s terrified heart.
She ran through the door, and breathed the familiar dusty scent of the converted barn. Knowing she was just trying to buy herself some time, Meg ducked behind one of the large bales recently delivered. Margo had been looking at buying a couple horses for the ranch and had already struck a deal with a local farmer for a regular
delivery of hay cut directly from his crops. Right now, Meg was just grateful for the hiding spot.
Footsteps echoed through the wooden walls. Creed was here.
She tried to control her breathing, consciously keeping herself as quiet as possible. Though she was in excellent shape, the human in her had emotions raging, so the panting her body craved had little to do with stamina, but everything to do with the storm crashing around inside.
Creed is here. She kept hearing her brain say this over and over like it was trying to understand, trying to accept the impossible.
“Meg, I know you can hear me, so I’m just going to start talking and hope you’re not going to toss anymore knives at my heart. At least, not until I’m done.”
She heard him shuffle his feet on the dirt floor.
“I don’t remember you,” he began. “I, um… I only know what I could piece together, but it’s not a lot. The last thing I really remember was the Retribution Match with my brother, Gavil. I understand you were an assignment. Williams wanted me to kill Margo Winter and return you and your brothers to him. I have been told that I disobeyed orders and befriended you and your family instead. Apparently, I fought beside you, against Williams.” Creed’s voice cracked just enough to give away his nervousness. “But, Meg, I don’t remember any of this. I wish like hell I did, but I don’t.”
Meg shifted her weight and peeked around the frayed edge of the hay bale to see him. He was leaning against the old fridge staring down at the hand he had wrapped with a dish towel from the kitchen. He must have grabbed it on his way out as he chased her there.
Unable to stay silent beneath the crashing waves of emotions, Meg stepped out from behind the bale. “Why did you hurt my family?”
Creed’s head shot up at the sound of her voice. His eyes looked heavy with worry, and now that she allowed herself to notice, he looked much older than he did last time she had seen him just a few months before. It looked like he’d lived through a lifetime of hell since then. After having lived under Williams’ macabre attentions, he may have.
Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) Page 20