by Sharon Wray
Nate pressed down Deke’s upper body.
“Pete?” Rafe ordered. “Hang on to Deke’s legs while I explain what happens when any man hurts the woman I love.”
Rafe picked up the nail, and Deke whimpered.
“Fuck this,” Pete said. “That’s not the way we do things.”
“Not the way you do things.” Rafe ignored Nate’s shocked gaze and focused on Deke’s fearful one. “Let’s see your ear.”
Deke bucked.
“Dammit, Pete. Hold his legs.” Rafe placed the nail in Deke’s ear, held it steady, and swung the hammer, driving the nail into the floor. Muffled screams filled the room, and Rafe hit again. His stomach rebelled, but he kept his breathing steady.
Deke’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he passed out. He’d never hurt Juliet again.
“Fuck. This.” Pete crawled away until his back hit the wall.
Rafe stood and held out a hand to help up Nate, who’d gone as pale as the moon.
Nate scrubbed his hands over his head. “What’ve you done?”
Oh brother, so much more than that. “Avenged my wife.”
Nate leaned over, hands on his thighs. His body heaved. Sweat stained his T-shirt.
Pete muttered, “We’re fucked.”
Rafe settled his hands on his hips and stared up at the stained ceiling. If they didn’t get their shit together, this mission was over before it started. “This isn’t the U.S. Army. This isn’t an A-team. We’re not a unit. We’re three men being bitch-slapped by fate, hunted by warriors we can’t see, and screwed by a situation we don’t understand. If we want to survive, we have to play the game to win. We have to play my way.”
Rafe pointed to the black monitor that used to show the alley but now hid a waiting Balthasar. “We play the game like Fianna warriors. No prisoners. No rules. No mercy.”
“What are you going to do to Balthasar?” Nate asked. “Kill him?”
“No.” That would escalate the situation and endanger Juliet even more. “I’ll assess things and meet you at the cathedral. Watch over Juliet until I get there.”
“We’re fucked,” Pete said again.
Nate wobbled.
Rafe gripped Nate’s shoulders. “We need to be strong. We need to work together. Despite our screwed-up past, trusting each other is the only way we succeed. Got it?”
Nate helped Pete up, and they both nodded.
“Good.” Rafe sighed. “If either of you have any influence with the Almighty, pray.”
“Are you joking?” Pete asked.
“No. We need any help we can get.”
Chapter 14
Rafe exited through the kitchen. The sooner Nate and Pete understood Geneva Convention rules had no place in this fight, the better chance they had of surviving.
Did Rafe enjoy torturing men like Deke? No.
Was Rafe sorry? Let’s add a hell to that no.
And if that asshole touched Juliet again, Rafe would kill him.
He entered the alley. Drizzle soaked his T-shirt. The stench of river mud irritated his throat. Last week, when he’d been in his cell dealing with the blackness of his life, he never would’ve guessed that six days later he’d be meeting Balthasar. Fate liked to fuck him over and then stand back and laugh.
“Romeo.” Balthasar emerged. “My brother lives.”
Rafe hit his chest with a fist and bowed his head. “It grieves me to lay my gaze upon you, Balthasar. What do you require?” The words barely made it through his gritted teeth.
Balthasar hugged the shadows cast by the anemic street light. “The truth about a mis-justice done this day.”
Talk of mis-justice from a man who dealt out death with the same precision with which he spoke? Super. “Do you speak of my freedom?”
“Your freedom is an abomination I care not about.”
“It’s Escalus’s release from this world that troubles you?”
“My tears would wash our brother’s wounds, except Escalus betrayed our brotherhood and his body remains in this world.”
Rafe rubbed his forehead. While verse had come more easily for Escalus, neither of them had worked as hard at the Fianna’s language requirement as Balthasar. He was a powerful, deadly perfectionist. So Rafe stopped trying to be something he’d already failed at. “Where’s Escalus?”
“In the morgue.”
Rafe raised his head, the drizzle rinsing his face. Fianna warriors, even errant ones, were always returned to the brotherhood. “The Prince has his reasons.”
“’Tis our way to honor our dead brothers. Have you forgotten?”
As if that could happen. “No.”
Balthasar moved until Rafe saw himself reflected in the other man’s eyes. “Pray tell, Romeo. What was the cause of your fray with Escalus?”
“He threatened my wife.”
“And you took his life?”
“I wounded him. Arragon slayed him.”
“Which leaves us at odds.”
“Did you know Escalus had been planning to sell that vial to a third party?”
“No. ’Tis a fiendish lie.”
“The Prince’s second-in-command didn’t know Escalus had gone rogue?”
Balthasar’s lips turned into thin lines. “In the two thousand years of our brotherhood, there’s been only one record of cowardice, of a brother leaving those he loved behind, of turning traitor. And you’ve performed these wretched deeds thrice.”
Rafe’s hands formed fists. “How long did it take after my arrest in St. Petersburg for the Prince to make you his second-in-command?”
Balthasar growled.
“It must kill you that I’m grateful to be done with that life, grateful you took my job, grateful for the years in prison that gave me distance and perspective. You must hate that I see you for what you are. An insecure man desperate for approval.”
“I may seek approval from those I respect, but neither the Prince nor I relish what we do. Our ends and our means are equal in weight and stature. Whereas you—” Balthasar glanced at Rafe’s bleeding, swollen knuckles. “Your means far outweighed your ends. Never was a soldier more brutal than the one called Romeo.”
“I fulfilled my orders with precision and skill.”
“You relished each and every kill.”
Rafe’s throaty laugh echoed. “We are Fianna warriors. We seek vengeance on behalf of those who can’t, those who are too weak or poor or incapable of violence. That was my purpose. Until it wasn’t.”
“No one leaves the brotherhood.”
“I never cared about the rules. Just ask Walker.”
“The rules care about you.”
“Fuck the rules. Fuck the Prince. And fuck you. I’ve more important things to do tonight than deal with your bullshit.”
“You need your wife’s forgiveness if you wish to succeed.”
* * *
Balthasar adjusted his gloves while Romeo bared his teeth.
“My wife is none of your business.”
“Your wife despises you. I watched while she read that letter, how it broke her.” He paused. “Don’t you wonder why she hates Walker?”
Romeo frowned. Balthasar could tell from the way Romeo’s eyelids twitched that he wanted to ask about Walker, but that would be a sign of weakness.
“Next week,” Romeo said, “after I win back my wife and find that vial, we’re going to have an adult male conversation.”
“Then you’ll return with me to meet the Gauntlet. As is your fate.”
Romeo scoffed. “While you’re begging for your life, ask the Prince why he tried to recruit Nate Walker.”
“You speak of nothing.” Balthasar pointed to the club’s back door. “You’ll not win back your wife. I’ll destroy her first.”
Romeo’s hit came hard and fast, th
rowing Balthasar against the wall. Romeo had gained in strength and speed, but Balthasar was willing to let Romeo play the wounded, righteous hero. Romeo never could control his emotions, and Balthasar had his knife ready.
Romeo pressed a forearm against Balthasar’s windpipe and took a short metal rod from Balthasar’s coat. Instantly, a thin, razor-sharp sword extended, and Romeo pressed the tip against Balthasar’s neck. “Do you remember Athens?”
Balthasar ignored the sting. “Aye.” Athens had been Romeo’s first assignment with Escalus. A brutal display that left a message not to fuck with the Fianna. That city still belonged to the Prince.
“I’ve learned a lot since then,” Romeo said. “How to drive a man so mad he prefers the cold ground to his lover’s warmth. So insane he begs for the end, no matter how painful.”
“Who taught you all you know?”
Romeo released Balthasar and threw down the misericord. Balthasar retrieved it, retracted it, and shoved it in his coat pocket. Then he grabbed Romeo’s arm and whispered in his ear. Romeo struggled, but Balthasar tightened his hold and kept talking. Lady Juliet had always been Romeo’s greatest weakness. That also made her the game’s greatest pawn. When Balthasar was done, he let go.
Romeo stumbled back, shaking. He leaned against the wall and scraped his hands over his head. “It’s not true.”
“Ask Lady Juliet. Or Walker.”
“I’ll kill Walker.” Romeo glared at Balthasar. “And Kells Torridan. Then you.”
“A battle, then. You fight to win your lady’s affections while I destroy them. Pray, have you explained the names on your arm yet?”
Romeo straightened his shoulders. His powerful chest undulated with rage, and his eyes glittered with the ruthlessness he was known for.
When Romeo refused to respond, Balthasar bowed at the waist. “Until next week.”
“Fuck you.” With that oh-so-eloquent farewell, Romeo left.
Once alone, Balthasar took out his cell phone and dialed.
Lennox answered, “Need you help, Balthasar?”
“Did you recruit Torridan’s man Walker?”
“Not I. Perchance another did. Why?”
“It matters not. My thanks.” Balthasar hung up and rubbed his eyes. No one was recruited without his permission.
“Hey.” The male voice came from the shadows. “It’s me.”
Escalus’s contact. “Show yourself.”
A young man in a hoodie and ripped jeans emerged. His features were so sharp that if one were to run their hands over his face they’d receive a palmful of papercuts. “Where’s E?”
“Dead.”
“Oh.” The man scratched his head. “And you are?”
“Escalus’s partner.” Balthasar bowed his head. “Balthasar.”
“E didn’t mention a partner.”
“He didn’t mention you either.”
The man frowned “True. I’m Eddie. And Deke’s inside. Without him we can’t get any more zombie heroin.”
Heroin? Balthasar had watched for weeks as that new drug decimated the addict class. “Escalus was involved with that?”
“Dude, E brought it—and Aemon—to the city. Except E killed Aemon a few days ago. Sliced him with that sword thing and dumped his body nearby. Aemon was a computer wiz but didn’t have the proper respect. You feel?”
“Who’s Aemon?”
“Where’ve you been?” Eddie ran his hands through his hair until it stuck up like brown toothpicks. “Aemon’s the uber-top guy in the org. Except for my cousin. My coz wasn’t happy about E killing Aemon, but E was like you. A fucking tank. And my cousin needs him.” The kid’s eyelids dropped. “My cousin isn’t going to be happy about E’s death. He had this thing for E. He counted on him.”
These were the people Escalus betrayed him for? “I’m here now.”
Eddie popped gum in his mouth. “You have E’s laptop?”
“Yes, but not the passwords.”
“Deke can fix that. I was inside watching. Deke’s busted up and stuck in the club’s security office. I also got a lead on the vial.”
Balthasar nodded. “I’ll retrieve Deke. Meet us at the safe house.” After giving Eddie the address, Balthasar said, “Hurry. We’ve work to do.”
Eddie disappeared, and Balthasar hid until someone came out to dump garbage. He caught the back door and, once inside, used a service hallway to bypass the kitchen. He stayed in the shadows, watching the locked security office, until a female voice asked, “Are you lost?”
Balthasar turned to find a stunning redheaded woman in a too-short skirt and too-small bikini top. She had the body of a teenager and the eyes of a combatant. He’d always been highly attracted to females, which was why his tithe had been celibacy.
A Fianna warrior was required to break every link tying him to the real world, and this woman, with the come fuck me lips and full breasts, would be another one of the Prince’s trials.
He bowed his head. “I was waiting for someone but now can’t remember why.”
“I can help.” She giggled and held out her hand. “I’m Sally.”
He pulled her against his hard body. Heat built up in his veins, and his breath shortened. Sally gasped, her eyes closed. His cock pressed into her stomach, and from the way she chewed her bottom lip and moaned, she felt his length and width grow. Yes, he’d more than enough to satisfy any woman and had left many complete in both bliss and exhaustion.
He kissed her hard, both sucking and biting her lips. The ache in his lower stomach sought relief by pressing his hips against hers. When he raised his head, his hands gripped her ass. She rubbed against his body like she wanted to crawl inside him. From her nipple rings and the way she swirled her tongue, she obviously had other skills. His body responded with a flash of heat, and he grabbed his arousal. It’d been so long since he’d cared for this rebellious part of his body, he almost climaxed from his own touch. “Can we go someplace private? Someplace with a locked door?”
She glanced down to his hand holding his cock through the leather, and her eyelids went halfsies. She dragged him to the security office door and punched a code into the keypad. Before hitting the overheads, he forced her against the wall, her legs around his waist, his lips on hers. He ground his hips against her core through their clothes. His cock swelled even more at the scent of their arousal.
While he fondled a breast, he flicked his wrist, protracting the blade. The misericord slipped beneath her ear, into her neck. Her eyes widened before she slid down the wall and slumped on the floor.
Then he turned to find Deke struggling against duct-tape ties. Keeping the deadly sword visible, Balthasar knelt and smiled.
Chapter 15
Juliet hit the cathedral when the drizzle stopped. Dark clouds had snuffed out the stars.
Her cell phone buzzed, and she checked the message.
Lady Juliet, make haste. Time is short.
She glanced back. Other than cop cars lining the street, the area surrounding the cathedral was dark and empty. She hurried up the steps, and the gargoyles in the spires snarled at her.
This had to be one of the worst days she’d ever had—other than those weeks after Rafe had sent her that letter, those weeks spent with Nate Walker. How could her life have crashed so quickly? She stood on the edge of losing everything, with Rafe as a witness. But she wouldn’t cry. She’d do what she always did. She’d rely on herself. She’d survive.
Once in the narthex, she sucked in the frigid, incense-filled air. Police checked the pews with flashlights, searching the transepts and sanctuary. Her sneakers scuffled on the marble floor. There were no overhead lights on, but every votive candle had been lit, illuminating the main church, keeping the corners in shadow.
“Miss Capel!” Detective Garza strode down the aisle toward her. “Are you alright?”
She met
him halfway. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Father Quinn called a while ago.”
Not wanting to admit she’d walked fourteen blocks in the dark, dodging heroin addicts in the alleys, she focused on the two dozen cops. “What’s going on?”
Garza reached for her face but dropped his hand. “What happened?”
She turned and saw Father Quinn standing in the shadows next to the main altar. “I fell at the work site.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She hiked her bag on her shoulder and regretted her short tone. Then she noticed the dark circles under Garza’s eyes and the hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it all night. “Are you alright?”
“Besides finding a dead kid near the River Walk today, the murdered man out on your property, and the flood of heroin overdoses, I’m fine.”
“That’s awful.” She needed to remember that other people had problems too.
“I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t unload on you or talk about other cases. It’s unprofessional.”
“It’s alright.” She offered a half smile. “I know all about bad days.”
He took her elbow and led her to the main altar. “Have you been here since setting up for tomorrow’s funeral?”
“Not since my foreman, Bob, and I finished around seven p.m.” She peered over Garza’s shoulder to check out the ficus trees in the sanctuary, ivy roping along the altar rails, and white lilies in the two side chapels. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes.”
Father Quinn stood in the right transept, facing the altar that held the statue of Mary. He held a phone to his ear. Instead of his collar, he wore jeans and a blue golf shirt. The cold air was thick with the fragrance of vanilla-scented candles. “Good evening, Father.”
Father Quinn pocketed his phone. “Juliet? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine—” She stopped. Behind him the stone pots she’d just ordered, carved with her Juliet’s Lily logo, had been pulverized. All of the white Madonna lilies had had their heads cut off. The blooms outlined a pile of potting soil spread beneath the statue. In this four-foot-by-two-foot dirt rectangle, someone had scrawled the words JULIET, HERE’S SUCH A COIL. TO REVERSE A PRINCE’S DOOM, STOP THY UNHALLOW’D TOIL. “Who did this?”