Dark Vengeance Part 2

by Reinke, Sara

  Lifting her head warily, she risked a bewildered peek and found Augustus standing between her, Pilar and her mother, his eyes closed. As if the four of them had been engulfed in an invisible bubble, Lina could see smoke parting, flowing around them, marking an unseen perimeter on the ground as Augustus telekinetically shielded them from the debris.

  “Are you alright?” he asked again, opening his eyes to look directly at her. She nodded, still shaking all over with surging adrenaline.

  “They hurt Mama,” Pilar cried, her voice choked with a combination of smoke and tears. Her dark hair was askew, and not even the soot smutched on her face could hide the fact that she’d been beaten. Her left eye looked swollen shut, her lips battered and bloodied.

  Estela looked no better off. Nearly dragging Pilar down with her as her knees gave out, she started to fall. Without missing a beat, Augustus stepped forward, slipping one arm around her shoulders, the other beneath her knees, gathering her in his arms.

  “Those…cowardly pendejos—they pistol-whipped mi madre!” Pilar cried to him, her voice hoarse and sob-strained.

  Already, Lina could hear the distant sound of approaching sirens, and saw porch lights coming on up and down the street, curious and alarmed neighbors roused from their beds by all the excitement. She looked toward Latisha’s house and realized to her horror that sparks and flames had leapt across the narrow space separating the two homes, igniting her mother’s roof and some of the low-lying shrubs surrounding the building’s exterior.

  “Oh, no,” she gasped, rushing forward. “Oh, no, oh, no, oh shit!”

  Augustus caught her by the arm. “You can’t go in there.”

  She watched the flames licking higher, spreading across the roof tiles. The bedroom in which she’d been sleeping seemed to be the point of origin, and the flames were steadily making their way from there.

  “That’s my mother’s house,” Lina cried, flapping her arm, trying to shake him loose. “Let me go, goddammit!”

  She wrenched herself free, but when she tried to charge forward again, he caught her from behind, wrapping both arms around her, effectively pinning her arms at her sides. She struggled, kicking at him and thrashing.

  “Mama’s house!” she exclaimed helplessly. “Let me go!” She wanted to say more, but sucked in a mouthful of smoke and began to choke. As she doubled over, coughing violently, she heard more glass shattering, and from somewhere in the back of the house—the lanai, maybe—she heard a sudden, thunderous crash.

  Oh, my God, she thought, shocked, unable to catch her breath. By now, the sirens were deafening, and she saw the flashing of red lights as fire trucks and ambulances began pulling up, one after another, in rapid succession up and down the block.

  She blinked at Pilar, who now sat weeping on the ground, cradling her mother’s head in her lap. A pair of paramedics raced from the nearest ambulance toward them, each lugging a heavy first-aid kit in hand.

  Oh, my God.

  Augustus still had his arms around her. His hold had loosened as she’d stopped fighting, and when he turned her around to face him, she didn’t resist. Draping his hand against the back of her head, he drew her against his shoulder, and she stumbled into his embrace, shell-shocked and dazed. He turned his face down toward hers and murmured something in French; she had no idea what it was, but it sounded gentle and kind and she began to cry.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I’d like for you to follow up with your regular obstetrician-gynecologist in the next week,” the emergency room doctor told Lina as she sat on a hospital gurney, hooked up to a three-lead EKG that blipped and beeped in time with her heart rate.

  She’d only agreed to come to the hospital in the first place because once the paramedics had learned of her pregnancy, they’d pretty much insisted. She hadn’t known anything was wrong until one of the nurses had asked her to piss in a cup. When she’d ducked into the bathroom to comply, she’d realized her underpants were soaked in blood, her inner thighs smeared with it. In a frightened panic, she’d rushed from the room, and everything had been a blur ever since.

  “Your blood screen shows abnormally low levels of human chorionic gonadotropin, a hormone present only during pregnancy,” the doctor continued said. “Although you shouldn’t be too far along based on your last menstrual cycle, we expect those levels to be much, much higher by now.”

  Lina nodded once, dumbstruck and mute. He’d also attempted to use a vaginal ultrasound device to detect the embryo’s heartbeat, but there had been nothing but silence from her womb.

  “The bleeding may continue for the next few days,” the doctor told her. “And you might feel some abdominal discomfort, like menstrual cramps. It’s all perfectly normal.”

  “Normal,” Lina murmured. She already felt like she’d taken a sucker-punch to the gut, but doubted this was the abdominal discomfort he’d meant.

  “I don’t think a dilation-and-curettage procedure—a D-and-C—will be warranted. It’s probably not going to look or feel any differently than a heavy period.”

  Lina nodded again, her vision swimming with sudden tears.

  “Miscarriages aren’t uncommon with first pregnancies.” With a gentle smile, he leaned forward, patting her hand. “Especially unplanned ones. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this. Do you understand?”

  Lina could only shrug mutely, her bottom lip quivering from the strain of trying to repress tears. For a long time after the doctor left, she stood with her shirt pulled up to her breasts, her belly exposed, and looked down at herself. Her bottom lip trembled as more tears spilled, and with no one here to see, she let them fall. Pressing her hands to her abdomen, she closed her eyes and wept. I’m sorry, little baby. I’m so sorry.

  * * *

  Under Marcus’s direction, detectives from the Bayshore Special Victims Unit had been gathering whatever physical evidence they could from Pilar and her mother. Clearly Pilar was not the same defenseless young woman Pepe Cervantes had raped a year earlier; she’d fought back against the intruders, scratching and biting the shit out of them. Even so, both of the women were lucky to be alive.

  “I’ve got uniformed guards stationed at their bedsides,” Marcus told Lina as she ducked past the curtains to leave the emergency room. “Nobody in, and nobody out—not without hospital photo IDs on.”

  “Thanks, Marcus.” Lina managed a smile. She’d reined herself under control, but her eyes remained red-rimmed and puffy from crying. Luckily outside of Augustus, no one had known about her pregnancy, so she could easily blame the smoke for her ragged appearance. “I…I appreciate it.”

  “I’ve got fresh APBs out on Cervantes and all of his known associates in this area,” Marcus continued. “Plus descriptions on the cars you saw. I’ve got patrolmen hitting all of the garages and body shops between here and Cyprus Springs, advising to be on the lookout for any rides with bullet damage. All of the county ERs are on alert, too, in case you hit anyone.”

  “Here’s hoping,” Lina murmured, trying to brush past him. All she wanted to do was leave. The doctor had insisted she not spend the next twenty-four hours unsupervised and alone, and Augustus had gallantly informed her that she’d be spending those at his hotel suite. At first, his insistence had left her bristling, but now the idea of a bed and blankets to burrow beneath—to hide from her sorrow—sounded all-too inviting.

  “I’ve also got a name to go with your collar.” Marcus clearly couldn’t take a hint, and stepped sideways to again block her path as he referred to the bear-like man who’d attacked Lina and Pilar. “Vladan Nikolić. He’s Serbian.” At this, Lina blinked in genuine surprise, and Marcus nodded grimly. “Not sure yet what his connection is to Cervantes, but I’m hoping he can give us some answers once they’re through stitching him…” His voice faded and his brows raised with worry. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look…”

  “Like hell,” Lina mumbled, shoving him out of her way. “I know.”

  * * *

  As she
walked out the sliding glass doors into the emergency department waiting area, she was surprised to see another familiar face rising from one of the well-worn seats.

  “Jackie?” she said as her brother set aside a magazine he’d been thumbing through and hurried toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  She expected him to say he was there with Valien, waiting for word on Pilar and Estela. Instead, Jackson surprised her a second time by giving her a hug. He hadn’t even spoken to her much since her fall-out with Brandon, much less wanted to have anything affectionate to do with her. But she had to admit, in that moment, she needed it—especially from Jackson—and she closed her eyes against the sting of fresh tears at his embrace.

  As he drew away, Jackson held out his hand, palm-up, then brought the other down, blade-like, against it, his brows lifted in concern. Are you alright?

  Lina brought her thumb to her chest, her other fingers spread apart and held upright: I’m fine. She didn’t want to tell him about the pregnancy—never mind the loss of it—and so she tried to play off her decision to come to the hospital. “They…just wanted to make sure I hadn’t breathed in too much smoke or anything.” Again, she felt tears burning, and she looked away

  “I’ve been out to the house,” Jackson said aloud. “It looks like most of the damage is to the roof and that front bedroom. I nailed some boards up over the broken windows. I’ll get the hurricane shutters out tomorrow and put them up, too.”

  She nodded mutely. She knew she should care—it was Latisha’s house, after all. But at that moment, she simply couldn’t.

  “I’ll call her, okay?” he said. “I’ll take care of this.”

  And because she needed that—needed someone to take care of things—she nodded again, her tears spilling. Hooking one of his large hands against the back of her head, Jackie pulled her against him again. . “The important thing is you’re not hurt.”

  But I am, she thought, trembling in her brother’s embrace. Oh, God, Jackie, I’m hurting so much…so bad inside…

  He held her for a long moment, stroking her hair. I missed you, she wanted to tell him, because it was the truth. They’d never stayed that angry with each other for that long, and she’d begun to fear that the damage between them had been irreversible. I missed you, Jackie, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

  “Taya said you could come and crash at her place tonight,” he said and she stiffened slightly, drawing away and wiping at her cheeks.

  “Oh.” She sniffled feebly. “That’s really sweet, but I…” She cut a glance at Augustus, who had been wisely keeping his distance during the siblings’ reunion. Jackson didn’t miss the aversion of her gaze, however, and followed it, with a noticeable frown. “Augustus said he’d put me up in a hotel,” she finished clumsily.

  “I don’t like the idea of you getting all friendly with him, Lina,” Jackson said, turning his glower back in her direction.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yeah? First you show up at the garage with him, and then I find out he was with you at our house. Now you’re telling me he’s going to set you up for the night. Sounds pretty goddamn friendly to me.”

  She didn’t need this. Not now. “He’s here to find Brandon,” she said. “That’s all.” When he scoffed at this, she pleaded, “Jackie, come on. Can’t you—”

  “You know what? Just forget it, Lina.” Jackson knocked past her, making her stumble as he stomped toward the exit. He paused only long enough to turn and glare at her over his shoulder. “But if you’ve got any sense, you’ll stay the hell away from Augustus Noble. Trust me on that one.”

  * * *

  “Is everything alright?” Augustus asked, holding the passenger-side door open for Lina.

  She flapped her hand to shoo him as he attempted in likewise chivalrous fashion to help her into the car. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Jackie was just warning me not to trust you, that’s all.”

  She hadn’t told him about the baby yet, even though she knew he was a telepath; he probably knew already. Hell, he probably knew from the minute he touched my belly earlier, trying to sense it, she thought.

  “It would seem I’ve made quite an impression on your family,” Augustus observed as he settled into the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt.

  “It could be the fact that you fired him,” Lina remarked drily. “Or that you broke both of Brandon’s hands.”

  He didn’t reply. His expression was unreadable, but Lina felt bad for making the remark anyway. She hadn’t needed Jackson to tell her not to trust Augustus—she didn’t, not completely anyway—but she was willing to begrudgingly admit that he’d been nice to her, helpful even, and hadn’t really deserved such a low blow from out of the clear blue.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was out of line.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” He started the engine, then glanced over his shoulder as he backed the car out of the parking spot. He didn’t say anything else at first, instead dropping the car into drive and heading for the main lot exit. After a long moment, he sighed. “What happened to Brandon…what I did…was inexcusable. I will regret it for the rest of my life.” After a prolonged silence, he added quietly, “When I was a boy, my father frequently lost his temper with me. There were times when he would beat me so badly, I would be bedbound for days afterwards. I always swore I would never be like him.”

  It was a disclosure Lina hadn’t anticipated, a vulnerability she wouldn’t have expected from him, and she found herself surprisingly moved. Her eyes burned with fresh tears and she blinked down at her lap. “I lost the baby,” she whispered. “A…a miscarriage, I mean.”

  He brought the car to an abrupt halt. “Oh, ma chéri…” he said, his voice pained.

  “They…the doctor thinks it wasn’t viable from the start. Tonight didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  She felt the tears begin to roll, leaving hot, damp streaks down her cheeks, one after another, in rapidly progressing procession. Her shoulders trembled and her voice warbled. He put the car in park and draped his hand against the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry, Angelina.”

  She had no defense against that—not in that moment, not from him—and crumpled against his shoulder. “I…I don’t even know why I’m crying. I didn’t want the damn thing. I…I’m not ready to be a mother. There’s no way…” Her voice faltered as sobs escaped in soft, choked gasps and she closed her eyes, knotting her fingers in the front of his shirt.

  She had no idea how long they remained that way, only that she needed it—she needed to weep, not only for the loss of her baby, but everything it had represented; the last hope she might have had for a connection to Brandon.

  “I’m so sorry,” Augustus whispered again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Wakey, wakey.

  Brandon groaned, his eyelids fluttering open. At first, all he could clearly discern was a brilliant white glare. As his eyes grew accustomed to his surroundings, he realized he was in an expansive room, sparsely furnished, but brightly lit by fluorescent bulbs recessed into the ceiling and walls. The floor looked as if it had been paneled in brushed, stainless steel; there was a floor drain the size of a dinner plate directly underneath him. On either side of him, a length of heavy steel chain ran from anchor points in the wall toward the center of the room—toward him. The chains connected to thick manacles cinched tightly around his wrists, the tension keeping his arms spread apart in a cruciform position. He tugged against them, bewildered and alarmed, but there was little if any wiggle room, and no forgiveness in the tautness of the lines.

  I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, kid, he heard Julien remark. But I really am sorry about this.

  He looked up and found the other man standing nearby in front of a metal folding chair, the only furnishing in the room. Still dressed to the nines in a dark, tailored suit, he smiled broadly when Brandon met his gaze.

  Yeah. Brandon felt his stomach slowly knot in sickened dread. I can tell it’s really eati
ng you up inside.

  You asked me earlier how I could do this to Aaron, Julien said, loosening his tie from his throat. He slipped the narrow length of silk from beneath his shirt collar and folded it with the same fastidiousness Brandon remembered from the hotel room. He shrugged out of his jacket, then draped it over the back of the chair. The truth is I can’t. Not anymore. This might have been his punishment, but hurting him…

  At this, his mental voice wavered, and Brandon saw something dart through his eyes—a resigned sort of unhappiness, a brief but nearly overwhelming sorrow.

  Hurting Aaron was mine, he finished at length as he lifted each hand in turn, unfastening a pair of gold cufflinks from his wrists. These he tucked into the hip pocket of his slacks before tugging the hem of his shirt loose from his waistband.

  Lamar said you stole from him, Brandon said, as Julien unbuttoned his shirt, starting at the collar and working his way down. He had no idea what was going on, or what was about to happen, but knew—with a sinking sort of dread—that it couldn’t be anything good. His only hope was to distract Julien from whatever task Lamar had given him; to keep him busy—keep him talking. He said you and Aaron both…that’s why you were being punished. You’d stolen from him.

  The corner of Julien’s mouth hooked in a humorless smirk. Aaron didn’t steal anything. He helped a slave escape.

  A slave? Brandon blinked in surprise.

  It was in 1815, Julien said. Aaron felt sorry for the girl and let her go. In our father’s eyes, that’s tantamount to stealing.

  Jesus Christ, that means Aaron’s been here—Lamar’s been doing sick shit like this to him—for almost 200 years, Brandon realized, his dismay and horror growing.

  And as for me… Julien shrugged his shirt off, folding it so that the crisp, starched creases in his sleeves remained undisturbed, then draped it atop his jacket across the back of the chair. He wasn’t a large man, but he was nothing but muscles, his entire torso and both arms hard-etched and well-defined. Tattoos, like a tangle of thorny vines, twisted and twined from the back of his neck and shoulders over onto his chest and down toward his wrists. I stole from Father, yes, he admitted. I did it to help Aaron—to save his life.