by T. A. Grey
So she did, falling asleep right there in his arms. And when he woke her some time later and nudged inside her again, she saw stars, whispered his name, and heard hers from him. Afterward, they dressed slowly, casting little smiles at each other from across the room. She liked his smiles. If the stout Brayden Erickson, Justicar to the council, could smile, then everything could be okay. Everything would work out.
Dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt and him similarly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. It was a slow kiss that left her breathless and toes curled into the carpet.
A hard knock sounded from downstairs. And that’s when everything changed. Brayden jerked his head to the side, then sprinted from the room. She was slow to follow, didn’t understand what could make him rush. Then she heard shouts and she stopped at the doorway, her jaw dropping. Brayden’s shouts. Panic set in pumping her heart fast and hard. She ran to the top of the stairs and started down them on fast, light steps.
Men in black wearing swat suits were coming in. Brayden cursed at them, then slammed his fist into a helmet-covered head. The guards turned on him, rifle butts raised and pounded them on his skull. He roared and it took her a few seconds to realize he wasn’t just roaring, he was speaking...to her.
“Get out! Run, Vanessa!”
The guards all seemed to turn and see her at the same time. Two stayed and kept fighting back Brayden, but she watched his movements get weaker, his shouts softer and still two more guards rounded on the stairs coming up toward her with slow, cautious steps.
“Mrs. Harrington, we’re with the Justicar’s office. We’re here to take you home. Everything will be all right now; just come with us,” said the guard on the left. He held out his hand for her to take it and she turned and ran.
The guards cursed, then hard fast steps barreled up the stairs. She flew down the hallway slamming the bedroom door behind her. Her fingers shook as she turned the lock, but the soft sound of it clicking nearly made her sigh with relief. She took off to the bathroom, closing herself inside that one as well. She flipped the lock just as wood splintered from the bedroom. Hard pounding kicks beat at the door and she knew she didn’t have long. She hopped on top of the toilet and pulled at the lock of the window. It was tiny, but she could fit through; she’d make sure of it.
“Fucking move!” she screamed at the stupid thing. It wouldn’t budge. She adjusted her grip as her fingers turned red, the tips burning to move the stupid little switch. And then her heart started racing even harder. With a final bang, she knew they’d broken down the door. Hard steps ran into the room, then banging on the bathroom door began.
“Please come out, Mrs. Harrington. We’re here to help you.”
She pushed as hard as she could, and finally, the switch flipped. She wasted no time in pushing the little window up, but it too had a hard time moving, had probably never actually been opened. It moved up a few inches then stalled. She leaned down and pressed both hands under the window, could even feel the cool air blowing against her fingers, and pushed with everything she had. The window gave with a mighty squeak of metal. She squealed with joy, which was quickly cut short by the booming at the bathroom door. The entire frame shook. The glass of the hand soap and little perfume bottles on the sink shook and jingled with each slam.
The frame split, nearly coming off from the top. Vanessa didn’t waste any time. Brayden told her to run, so she was running. She got her head of the window, but her shoulders caught on it. Pain blazed through her muscles, but still she shimmied, until her legs were in the air and half of her torso was out the window. But she never made it any further. With a cry thick with emotion, hands curled around her feet then pulled her back in. Her chin bounced hard off the top of the toilet and something cracked in her mouth.
Blood spilled from her lips. She was turned and the men in swat clothes jerked her arms behind her back. A metal sound clicked and then she couldn’t move her arms.
“No, no, no, no!” she said with rising panic. She slammed her shoulder into the nearest guard, catching him off balance and sending him slamming back into the shower. Glass shattered and exploded around them.
She sprinted for the door, her feet catching on sharp shards but she never stopped. She had to escape. She had to get help. Strong arms banded around her chest. With her arms caught uselessly behind her, she couldn’t do anything. She stomped at the guard’s feet, jacked her body back and forth, and still his grip didn’t loosen.
“Dammit, give her the tranq,” panted the guard holding her.
She fought harder, crying out like a banshee, dropping to her knees and trying to slam the guard back off her with the momentum.
The guard in the shower lumbered to a stand, shaking his head as if disoriented. He reached into a pocket from his cargo pants then pulled out a little gun. It reminded her of a hot glue gun, except the cartridge in this one was a glass vial with clear liquid inside.
“Time to go night night.” He pressed the gun to her arm, then a spurt of compressed air whooshed. Warmth, then frigid coldness swamped her. Her vision darkened, then she slumped.
Chapter 15
“Come on, man, why don’t you sit down. All that pacing is starting give me double vision.”
“Fuck off, Dmetri,” growled Brayden.
“He’s right, you know. Just try to relax. We’ll work something out,” a soft feminine voice said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Christine.”
Dmetri stood, then gave a pointed look to Christine and she left the study quietly. Dmetri marched to stand before him. Brayden stopped moving, though every muscle in his body jerked with the need to do something.
“You will not talk to my mate that way, drook. Got it? I know you’re angry, but this isn’t her fault.”
Brayden wanted to rip his hair out one big chunk at a time. “I know that,” he said with as much patience as he could muster. “I’ll apologize later.”
“Good, be sure that you do.” Dmetri took his seat again and Brayden sighed a little now that he could finally continue his mad trek across the carpet. “I take it you didn’t learn anything today.”
Brayden sent him a scathing glare. “Of course, not. They refuse to divulge any information to me, even when I ordered it. Even when I threated to start breaking bones.”
Dmetri nodded. “The problem with threats, see, it’s like with kids—”
Brayden paused to give Dmetri a dubious glance. “What do you know of children?”
He shrugged. “Christine wants a bundle around the house. I’ve been looking into it. That’s not the point. The point is, you can make as many threats as you want, but if you never go through with the threat, then they don’t believe you and they’ll run all over you. Should have gone through with it.”
Brayden stopped at the window and looked up at the darkening sky. Early evening still. Dmetri had a point. Should have cracked bones, made them bleed, then they’d talk. Then they’d have to tell him where she is.
“Listen, did you try her father again?”
“Yes, he says he hasn’t heard a word. He just knows the Justicars have her and that Joseph hasn’t returned to the pack.”
“Do you think he ran off with her?”
Brayden squeezed his eyes shut. That same thought had run through his mind a million times. “I doubt it. I’ve searched the city every single night for any signs of her scent. I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve already hired private investigators just in case they managed to sneak her out.” Those humans had come highly recommended to him. He didn’t know if he was relieved they hadn’t found anything or incredibly frustrated.
“It’s been a few days and you’re still wired. Why don’t you take a break?” Dmetri said.
Brayden turned to him, his body vibrating with anger. “Could you, if someone’d taken Christine?”
That took the easy smile off Dmetri’s face fast. “That’s different. She’s my mate. I’d do anything for her.”
“And I’d
do anything to get Vanessa back.”
Dmetri cocked his head to the side. Brayden didn’t like the look he was giving him, as if he’d just had an interesting realization. “What?” Brayden asked.
“Why would you do that? She isn’t anything to you.”
“Like hell, she isn’t. I—” he stopped himself before he revealed anything. “I promised her I’d protect her.”
Dmetri nodded gravely, a grin splitting across his face. “You love her.”
Brayden might have laughed if his body wasn’t strung so tight. “I don't love her. I care for her. She’s mine to protect.”
“And I suppose what you guys did in my guest bedroom the other night has nothing to do with it.”
Brayden clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms. “What?” he asked darkly.
Dmetri shrugged. “It’s not like we couldn’t hear. That woman can scream.”
He’d taken several steps toward him before he stopped himself. He had to close his eyes and remember that Dmetri was a friend, if a bit of a jackass. He was just jerking him. Dmetri’s grin fell, his eyes getting a soft look to them.
“I’m happy for you, friend. I didn’t know if you’d ever find someone to fit you. I’d suspected...with Vanessa.”
Brayden stalked back to the window. Better to look outside then at his friend’s face right now, else he might throw his fist at it. “What are you talking about now? None of this is helping the situation.”
“Maybe not, but I’d wondered a bit back when we first met Vanessa. The way you acted around her. I thought it was odd, but now I just see...it was early on attraction.” Dmetri’s low chuckle drifted like a wave. “It’s okay to care for her. It’s okay to let yourself feel for a woman. It might bring you some shit here and there, but none of that matters; none of it even compares to the rest.”
Brayden found himself hanging on to his friend’s words. “The rest of what?”
“All the good stuff that love brings, my friend. I think you’ve found that. That’s why you’ve been going batshit crazy. You love her.”
Brayden didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.
He listened to the sound of Dmetri standing, his footsteps as he crossed the room. Dmetri rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll work things out. I know you will. Take a break, relax. Do some work, anything. Once your mind clears a bit, the fog will lift, and you’ll be thinking smarter. You’ll figure something out. Best of luck to you.” Dmetri turned and started leaving.
Sighing, Brayden called out. “Thanks, Dmetri. You are a...good friend.”
Dmetri grinned, then closed the study door behind him.
Brayden listened to his friend’s advice. It felt strange being on the other side of it. Usually, he was the one giving orders, giving advice to his younger friend. Yet Dmetri had spotted his problems and feelings more precisely than he ever probably could have on his own. He did care for Vanessa, a lot. The word ‘love’ trickled through his mind like dripping water. Did he love her? Maybe; maybe it explained that suffocating tightness in his chest that hadn’t left since she’s been gone. Maybe it explained the utter humiliation of his actions—that he’d let her get taken away. He’d broken his promise. His manhood had taken a mighty blow with that one—he might never be able to have children now.
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Dmetri was right. Maybe if he got back on the Brunes case, he could settle his mind enough to figure out what to do. God, he missed her so damned much. It was an actual physical ache in his body. Everything muscle seemed to hurt. Headaches switched to migraines and back and forth, and hadn’t gone away since she was taken. To work then.
He grabbed his briefcase, got in his SUV, and headed to work. He needed something to break in this case. Brunes was guilty and not just of one murder, but two. Brunes’ ex-wife and Justicar Daniel will be the last souls Brunes takes.
* * *
Brayden read over the sentence in the Givens woman’s witness report for the fifth time. Hell, the words were just starting to run together.
“Fuck!” He slammed his fist on the desk, feeling a little better when his pen holder spilled over making a mess. He normally would have righted it straight away, but he didn’t give a shit at the mess.
Well, Dmetri had been wrong on one thing. Coming to work hadn’t gotten his mind off of Vanessa. How could it? He’d even gone over every piece of evidence they had on the Brunes case several times and still nothing popped. They couldn’t even try him on conspiracy to commit murder. The man had no evidence against him, yet Brayden’s gut told him Brunes did it. Maybe if he put enough pressure on him the man would pop and confess. It was looking like that was the only way this was going to work. Brunes was too smart and powerful to slip up. His influence had helped him to get away with the murder of his wife, but damn if Brayden would sit by and doing nothing now.
With that thought in mind, he packed up his briefcase and headed for Brunes’. The LED lights on his clock in the SUV stated it was nine o’clock. Not too late to make an official call, but too late to be polite. Fuck pleasantries, the man was a murderer. His hands tightened over the steering wheel. If he got lucky, Brunes might piss him off enough to start a fight. He could use a good fight to get the unsettled, anxious energy out of his blood.
It was late when he rolled up through the gated driveway of the Brunes mansion. Small spotlights lit the front and sides of the house as if trying to notify the world that a rich person lived there. As if they couldn’t already tell by his massive house. Just the drive to the house itself was ridiculous. Took a good couple minutes before he pulled up in front of the house and jumped out of his SUV.
Brayden strode to the door and without hesitating, beat his fist on it. On the third knock, the door swung open and the old butler waited there. His black suit jacket was off and the sleeves of his white button-down shirt were rolled up.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“I need to see King Brunes. Justicar matters.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Brunes isn’t taking any visitors now—”
Brayden shook his head, then pushed his way past the old man. He looked left and right, finding nothing but empty dark rooms. A deep voice came from the end of the hall. He followed it down to Brunes’ study.
“Uh, sir, I will have to call the Justicars if you do not leave. You are not welcome here.”
If the butler was going for threatening, he did a piss poor job. He sounded about as intimidating as a fledging kitten.
“Go ahead; I might need backup.”
“As you wish...” the butler’s voice trailed away.
Brayden paused in front of the double-wide study door. He cocked his ear to it as he glanced back up the hall. The butler had disappeared. Brunes was speaking inside, but almost as if on cue, the talking ceased once he listened. Brayden didn’t hesitate. His blood had been churning at a slow boil for days. Four days since Vanessa had been taken right from under him. Four days since he failed a woman that meant much more to him than he’d even realized, until she was gone. He opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was brightly lit. Every lamp turned on, even the grand crystal chandelier. Not a shadow appeared. Brunes stood in front of his desk, a small smile on his face. Brayden wanted to grapple the motherfucker to the ground, pound his fist into his face until bones cracked and blood spurted. Yeah, that was about the mood he was in right now.
“How unexpected, Justicar Brayden. What’s brought you all the way out here?”
Brayden took his time searching the room. Brunes wasn’t one to keep his back unwatched. He couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean some guard wasn’t close.
“I think you know that already.”
“Then why did you even bother coming here? You and I both know you have no evidence to support your claims. You can’t prove a crime that I didn’t commit.”
Brayden walked to the center of the room. He didn’t want that door at his back. He stood so h
e kept an eye on Brunes, the windows behind him, and the door. “We both know you did it. Hell, even Sarina knows. What I want to know, is why.”
Brunes’ derisive chuckle skated along Brayden’s nerves like a serrated knife. He moved his tall body around the desk and folded himself into a chair. His smile was cold, but pleased. “My wife and I took a vacation. Left Sarina here with the butler, some guards, a nanny, that sort of thing. Clara and I had a steak meal that she cooked below deck on our yacht. We have a vacation home in Seattle. That’s where we keep our yacht, you know. That night we had dinner. I remember Bach or some such music playing over the system. I went below deck for another bottle of wine, came back and she was gone. That’s all there is to it, Brayden.”
Brayden stared at Brunes with hard, unrelenting eyes. “Do you know what I think?”
Brunes smiled. “Enlighten me, of course, but make it fast. This has been a very rude interruption and know that I am only flattering you with this conversation to be polite.”
Yeah, right. “I think that you learned that your wife had been sneaking out while you were gone on your business trips with council. I think you found out that she’d been spreading her legs open for an eager vampire, one who was more than happy to give her the pleasure you couldn’t.” Brayden paused to let his words sink in. He’d struck a chord. Brunes stiffed in his chair, his lips pulling into a nasty frown, his face deepening with color. “I think she was fucking him all the time. Maybe even sharing her dreams of being free of the great King Brunes. Does that sound about right? Though I do wonder, what makes you angrier? That she was fucking a lousy vampire behind your back, or that she took her daughter to meet him. After all, she was a protective woman, never left her child alone, even in your care. Your own wife didn’t trust you around your daughter. That says something to me, Brunes.”
Brayden took in Brunes’ facial expressions, his tics. He’d finally found a way to apply pressure to the bastard. Most of what he’d just said was pure speculation, part bullshit. There was never any sign that Clara had had an affair, but she might have. And judging from the reddening of Brunes’ face, Brayden had hit the mark spot-on.