Burr probably wasn’t monitoring the bugs in Mitch’s truck from behind that rock, and I’d spoken in a pseudo-whisper. But he could have a partner. It was the best I could do to protect Maddie. I shoved the phone in my pocket, jumped out of the truck, and ran for Mitch, skidding to a halt at his side.
“Told you to stay in the truck, Sunshine.” He gave me a tough-guy nod.
“Why is Burr after us now? Why not wait until dinner? Isn’t that why he set it up?” Panic ripped up and down my spine.
Mitch’s face was pale, his jaw set. “He’s after you. Wants me dead. You are a gift to mankind, Everly, with indefinable power. You have to be protected for future generations. And cherished.” The last was a whisper that got lost in the acrid scent of the desperation surrounding us.
A bullet zinged by. Way too close. “We need cover.” I dug the heels of my sneakers into the soft earth. Good thing I hadn’t worn slippahs. No traction, and I was just about done with defense. The desire to avenge my parents surged in my belly. Time to take this guy down.
The hell with Annie’s supposed surveillance system. I wanted to hear her voice, and punched speed dial. She answered, cutting to the chase, cool and calm. “I’m up to speed. Pierce and Adam are on the way, ETA ten minutes. You okay?”
“Yeah, considering Chad Burr ran us off Kamehameha and has us pinned behind his truck.”
“Everly Gray.” Harsh. Demanding, Burr’s voice careened from behind the boulder. “Come out. Hands up, and I won’t kill your badass husband.”
Insanity must have sucked up his common sense, because he had no clue how to get me from behind the truck. Threats wouldn’t do it. “He’s serious about killing you, Mitch,” I said against his ear. “I’m against it.”
It was crazy, but he grinned at me. “Good to hear it. Love you, Everly Gray Hunt.” He planted a kiss on my lips, and then stood straight and tall, and rounded the back of the truck.
I leaned, grabbed for his pant leg, missed. “Come back here,” I screamed.
The first shot hit him in the shoulder.
My heart rolled, hard and sharp, panic freezing me in place.
Keeping his gun hand rock solid, Mitch fired back. Red blossomed on the front of Burr’s shirt, spread.
I ducked from behind the truck, and aimed at Burr.
He fired at Mitch, hitting him in the chest. Cold terror held my hands steady. I fired. Once. Twice. Both shots on target. Burr went down.
I raced to Mitch, tossed the gun down, and cradled him in my arms. His eyes were closed, his skin damp with cold sweat. No way could I let him die before we’d healed our relationship. “Don’t die. Don’t you dare die, Mitchell Hunt. “Pain settled hard and fast in my chest. I groaned, a wild animal sound so loud I could hear it through the ringing in my ears.
“H-hurts.” He shuddered, his whole body lifting off the ground.
Yanking my shirt off, I wadded it up, pressed it tight to the hole in Mitch’s chest. Putting my weight on it with one hand, I grabbed my cell with the other. “Ambulance now! Mitch has been hit twice. Chest and shoulder.”
“On the way.” There was a catch in Annie’s voice, but she held steady. “Burr?”
“Three rounds to the chest. I think he’s dead.”
“Okay, El. Just a few more minutes. I’m right here with you.”
She was so wrong. No one was here with me. Even if she’d been standing next to me holding my hand, I was alone.
Mitch’s eyes fluttered open. “L-love you Suns-shine.”
I leaned forward, putting all my weight on his wound. “Love you, too. Annie heard the shots, Mitch. An ambulance will be here. Just hold on.”
Chill bumps broke out on my skin. “Why did you do that?” I demanded. “Try to protect me? We were okay behind the truck.” My voice croaked, scratchy with fear.
He clutched my arm, then his hand slipped away. “W-would have t-taken you.”
I could barely hear him, the words a mere whisper. Keeping pressure on his chest, I brought my ear to his lips, his breath warm against my skin. “H-had to be s-stopped. Valuable. L-love you. M-my fault.”
Oh, God, no. I couldn’t let him think that. “No, it’s not your fault. They would have found me, were already tracking me.” Sobs wracked me. I grabbed at the edges of Mitch’s shirt, pressing them on top of the wadded-up fabric covering his wound. Blood stained my hands, warm, his life draining out.
“Where the hell is the ambulance?” The shriek came from my gut. Tears clouded my vision, poured down my cheeks.
With shaking fingers, I brushed the hair away from Mitch’s forehead, bent and kissed him. My hands had left bloody streaks, stark against his gray skin. His blood tasted bitter-salty on my lips. “Stay with me, Mitch. We’ll make this work. We’ll find a way to fix everything. Please. Stay with me.”
Every ounce of my being pleaded with God to make this right. To keep Mitch alive.
Blood poured from his wound. So much I couldn’t slow it down. “Ambulance. Ambulance. Ambulance,” I chanted.
I buried my face in his neck, his skin cool to my touch. “I love you. Stay with me. Please, please stay with me.”
A loud rumbling sounded behind me. “Over here,” I yelled, twisting around.
Not an ambulance. The car that had been following us raced toward me. It screeched to a halt and six Asian men leaped out, circling me. They must have been tag-teaming with Burr, dropping out of sight when he rammed into us, showing up to finish us off.
My entire world tipped and rolled out from under me.
I held Mitch tight to my chest and watched the light leave his eyes.
Annie’s voice came through my cell, distant and weak. “ETA on the ambulance is three minutes. They’re almost there, El.”
“It’s too late,” I whispered, and stood to face the Wah Ching.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The group of Wah Ching didn’t say anything. Didn’t carry visible weapons. I wanted to die, wanted the pain to stop. We should have had a chance to heal from Mitch’s betrayal. Not to stay married, but to find a way to get on with living. He gave his life for me, and I would fight. Anything less would dishonor him. Anger surged, roiled in my gut. I bent, grabbed the .9mm from the ground, and then I leveled it at the biggest guy in the group.
“There’s more of you. Six to one makes it a sure thing that you’re going to win this battle. I know it. But I’ll take at least one of you with me.” Mitch’s blood made my hands slippery. I gripped the gun tighter.
They all wore red—do rags, bandanas over their faces, shirts—something red. My vision grayed, blending the blood covering my hands with their clothing. They moved closer.
I squeezed the trigger. Missed the big guy, nipped the one next to him in the arm. He swore, slapped a hand over the cut then pulled a knife.
My aim was off. Could have been the tears, or that my hands were slippery with sweat and blood. I adjusted my aim to compensate, and then squeezed the trigger again. Grazed the big guy’s arm, and threw him off balance. Suck it up, Everly. I drew in a deep breath, aimed, fired, got him in the chest. He went down.
A chill raced over my skin. I only had one magazine, so every shot had to count. Hollow, empty of everything but the cold, I spun, sighting on a short guy I caught moving in from my right, and shot him.
Someone moved in behind me, clamped his arm around my neck, and knocked the gun from my hand. He tightened his hold. No air. I fast-stepped, keeping up with him as he dragged me backward. My lungs labored for oxygen. I needed to break his hold before I passed out. Not much time. I primed my move, and when he stumbled, elbowed him in the ribs, and rammed my foot onto his instep.
“Son of a bitch,” he hollered next to my ear.
His hold loosened. While he was off balance, I tucked my chin into my neck. He’d bruised my trachea, and sucking in air hurt—a good hurt, because I could breathe.
The foul odor of stale cigarette smoke gagged me.
Someone grabbed my ankles. I kicked out,
catching his chin. A string of muffled swear words colored the air, mixing with the wail of approaching sirens.
The pain hit the side of my head hard and fast seconds before reality faded to emptiness.
Awareness scratched at the back of my mind. Nausea bunched, then spread through my belly. The scent of Chinese food clung to the air with sticky persistence, and tasted stale on my tongue. I gagged, forcing the bile back down my throat.
And then I opened my eyes. The room was dark, illuminated only by several flickering candles. Darkness was better. There’s room to hide from pain in the shadows.
My wrists were loosely tied in front of me, the rope rough and gritty. I was on a bed. Red was everywhere—the bedspread, the walls, the drapes. And my hands. Mitch’s blood. Pain welled in my chest, crushing the broken pieces of my heart.
The only door in the room flew open and the backlit silhouette of a woman filled the doorway. The harsh shaft of light momentarily blinded me. I squeezed my eyes closed, trapping the tears behind my lids. Mitch was gone. I’d never see his dimples again, or the way his wire rims slipped down his nose when he was reading.
“You’re awake. Good. We can begin work soon.” The woman’s voice was marked with a rich Asian accent, and the room vibrated with her intensity.
“Xifeng,” I whispered.
“Very astute of you, Everly Gray. I’ve been planning our meeting for many years.” Her clothes rustled, heavy silk slipping against itself as she moved toward the bed, and when she bent over me the scent of patchouli stuck in my throat.
Should I be afraid? I rolled my legs against the bed, and the knife sheaths rubbed into my skin. They hadn’t disarmed me. Too distracted by the sirens, maybe. Images that I’d picked up when I touched Mitch’s gun played a shadowy video on my internal screen. I knew what Burr’s accomplices looked like, the men responsible for Mitch’s death. For my parents’ deaths. They were mine now. On my kill roster.
Xifeng touched my head. I jerked away, and pain exploded in my skull. Damn, had that whimper come from me?
“Hold still, Everly Gray. The wound on your head is bleeding and should be tended. I want you in the best possible condition for my healing. After that, we’ll see if I keep you for a plaything, or—”
I had no interest in hearing about Xifeng’s plans. “It’s fine,” I interrupted her gloat. “A little blood doesn’t matter.” But a lot of blood… he’d bled out under my hands. I rolled to my side, dry sobs wracking my body.
Xifeng grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. “Stop it. I cannot abide your mewling. If you’re alert enough to make such a disgusting noise, your wound doesn’t need care, and you can begin work on me immediately.”
I swallowed, choking on the pain, but she was right. Now wasn’t the time for tears. I ran my tongue around my mouth, trying to unstick the dryness. “What kind of work?”
Conversation would be good here, Everly. She’s psycho. They like to talk.
I rubbed my face against the bedspread, wiping away the few tears that had escaped.
“You’re going to heal me, of course. I know your mother passed magical gifts to you. And that your friend was infected with the enchanted poison, which she has survived, and has since delivered a child. A vulnerable child.”
Rage broke through the pounding in my head. The bitch had threatened Madigan. I swung my legs off the bed, rolling up to sit. The room pitched. “Damn, but that hurts. What’d he hit me with?”
“His fist.” She snickered, backing out of touching distance. “You can still function. I’ve been watching. You’re resilient when it comes to protecting your family.”
Watching me? I shuddered, wanted the ropes off my wrists. Resilient? Was she making any sense at all?
Doesn’t matter, Everly. Talk to the crazy woman. Get out of here. Get to Madigan before it’s too late.
“Madigan’s in trouble,” I whispered.
“Yes. She will be the first person to die if you refuse to heal my scars. My people will see to it.” Pride colored her words.
Her people? My brain wasn’t working right. Red swam into my vision. The Wah Ching? Was she talking about the gang members assisting her? I shifted, testing my muscles, calculating the odds of taking her out so I could escape. Not good.
If I could get her to leave the room… “Water?” I croaked.
She snapped her fingers and a man appeared from someplace to my left. He stepped in front of me and shoved a plastic bottle into my hand. Images sped across my internal screen, and I looked up, trying to see his face. Too dark, but my fingers didn’t lie. It was the man I’d bought Chinese food from the other day, probably the restaurant proprietor. That meant I had to be in a back room of the infamous establishment where we were to have met with Burr. So there was definitely a connection between the rogue spy group and Xifeng.
I lifted the water bottle to my mouth, was stopped by the lid. A short burst of anger cracked along my nerves, clearing some of the haze from my brain. “You want to cut these ropes off so I can unscrew the top?” It wasn’t much as far as intimidation went, but I managed to saturate the words with a hint of bitch.
The restaurant proprietor-slash-thug let out a disrespectful sniff that had to have been accompanied with a curled lip. Too bad the dark hid his attempt at macho. He grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the top, and shoved it against my palm, spilling half of it on my hands and in my lap. The cold saturated my cargoes, pulling goose bumps out of my skin. It helped to clear my head. I brought the water to my mouth, gagged. The spilled liquid had mixed with the blood on my hands and the scent triggered the image of Mitch’s sightless eyes. No way could I allow him to die without a damn good reason. This had to end. It would be my tribute to Mitch.
I cleared my throat. “I believe I have a dinner reservation this evening.”
“Yes, it worked out well,” Xifeng said. “We stepped in to eliminate any confusion about who was in control of you. All of my partners have had limited life spans.” Another snicker, quieter this time, and sinister.
A surge of adrenaline slammed through me, and I downed the water in three gulps. No way was this bitch going to win. Not after what these people had done to Mitch. “Let’s get on with the healing then, shall we?” I twisted to face Restaurant Proprietor Thug. “I’ll just take my meal to go as soon as we’re finished. And you’ll have to free my hands. I use them to heal.”
Xifeng snapped her fingers again. RPT was on it in a flash, slipping his knife from the sheath I’d spotted when I picked up the Chinese food. He sliced through the ropes, deliberately nicking my wrist. My blood mixed with Mitch’s. I wiped my hands on my pants, cleaning off as much of the damp stickiness as I could. If I had a chance to use my knife, I was going to take it, and I wanted clean, dry hands—the better to keep my thrusts well-aimed and steady.
“Leave us,” Xifeng said. “Lock the door, but remain directly outside and assure that no one disturbs us.”
When the door clicked behind him, she slowly raked her gaze over me. Not that I could see, but my body itched with the intensity of her stare. “If you are unsuccessful, I will deliver you to my Wah Ching family for torture.” She chuckled. “They need the practice.”
My brain must have short-circuited because her words bounced off me, like a protective shield stood between us. I didn’t know a damn thing about torture techniques, but I’d watched a documentary on gangs and should have been terrified. Could I even gather healing energy when I was this numb?
“Stand. I will lie on the bed while you work.”
I planted my sneakers firmly on the floor, and then pressed against the hard surface, testing the strength in my muscles. Falling was out of the question, because I didn’t want to come in contact with whatever might be on the floor, nor did I want to lose face. It was important to breathe strength into every move I made—to face this demon-bitch psychopath as an equal.
When I stood, one of the candles flickered out.
Xifeng gasped.
I sent
a swift prayer of gratitude to Pele. There’s nothing like a little assistance from the goddess of fire when you’re trying to establish your dominance.
“Let’s get this done. I have things to do this evening.” An image of Mitch lying on the ground filled my mind, slamming coherent thought aside. My muscles forgot to support me, and I stumbled. I had to get out of here. To take care of Mitch’s body. To be sure he was treated with respect. Pain crushed the air from my lungs.
Xifeng pushed me aside, jarring me into reality. She arranged herself on the bed. “You may begin. Do not touch me.”
I inhaled, centering myself with the scent of greasy Chinese food. I’d never be able to eat it again. “I work by touch. It’s how the healing energy passes from me to you.”
It was probably good I couldn’t see her eyes clearly, because the hatred in her glare was tangible. “Learn a new way.” She spat the words at me.
Last thing I ever planned to do was touch the living embodiment of evil, but I couldn’t pass on a chance for my fingertips to see something important. I pushed out a heavy sigh, wanting her to think I was annoyed and frustrated, and then I stepped to her feet and held my palms over her legs.
“Not there,” she screamed. And followed it with a furious smattering of what I assumed to be Chinese, finally reverting back to English. “My face. Heal my face.”
Calm the crazy woman, Everly, or the Wah Ching will kill you before you have a chance to kill her.
I breathed in through my mouth. The taste of the greasy air was worse than the smell, but I managed not to vomit. “Energy travels, Xifeng. Your face is delicate, so I want to go slowly, have time to adjust the intensity of the healing energies.” And have time to plan the best way to get my knife out of the sheath and into your heart.
She sniffed. “Get on with it.”
I pulled a protective buffer around myself and then carefully opened my senses to her aura. Fragments of sooty black energy seeped into my working space. I brought them into balance, weaving slick white energy through the gritty black. It was the only way I could get deeper into her psyche without hurting myself. That black would be a killer if it touched me. Probably suck the breath right out of my lungs.
Touch of Betrayal, A Page 20