Broken Dawn (Immortal Guardians Book 10)

by Dianne Duvall

  The old man took a step toward him. “Who is Spencer Zaveri?”

  “I am. Or I was, before they changed my name. Look it up, then come back and maybe we can strike a deal. You’re a billionaire. Being in the witness protection program hasn’t exactly left me with a big bank account. Offer me enough money and I’ll keep my mouth shut and walk away without a backward glance. Offer me more than enough and I’ll convince Kayla to do the same.”

  The old man looked at Kayla. “And how do you plan to do that?”

  Oliver shrugged. “Everyone has a price. Hers might be her dickhead ex-husband meeting with an accident and being permanently ejected from her life. Or maybe her daughter having a nice plump trust fund waiting for her when she turns twenty-five. I’ll figure it out, whatever it is, and you can help me make it happen. And who knows, if you offer her whatever you offer me, maybe she’ll satisfy your nutball curiosity and agree to donate more blood so you can turn it into whatever immortality serum you think you can create to cheat death.”

  Silence descended, thick and tense.

  “Time is ticking, gentlemen,” Oliver drawled. “If we don’t go home tonight, Nick is going to start looking for us.”

  “That was the whole point of kidnapping you.”

  Oliver sighed as if dealing with someone so dense exhausted him. “How many times do I have to tell you he’s an ordinary guy! He may look for us, but he won’t find us here! And you won’t lure him into a trap. He’ll just call in the feds when I don’t come home.”

  “We’ll see.” Turning away, the old man hobbled toward the door with as much dignity as his frail form could muster.

  The bruiser strode after him, followed by the other men.

  The door closed behind them with a snick.

  Kayla stared at Oliver.

  One corner of his bloody lips turned up in a smile as he winked at her with the eye that wasn’t swollen. He glanced up at the high ceiling, then around the room. “You see any cameras? My vision’s a little blurry.”

  She looked around. “No.”

  “I figured there wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t want to risk having video confirmation of his crime.”

  Kayla struggled against the zip ties that bound her wrists to the chair but could neither break them nor squeeze her hands free. Leaning forward, she eased her weight onto her feet and stood with the chair on her back. Though walking in such a hunched-over position was awkward, she managed to make her way over to Oliver. “Do you think they’re listening to us?”

  “I doubt it. I don’t think he put a lot of thought into this operation.” Curiosity sparkled in his right eye as he watched her. His left was nearly swollen shut now.

  She lowered her chair to the floor beside him. “Was all that bullshit?”

  “The witness protection program thing?”

  Nodding, she scooted her chair back and studied the ropes that bound him to the chair. There was no way she would be able to untie them one-handed even if she could reach the large knot. Nor did she have a hope in hell of unfastening the zip tie that bound his wrists.

  “Yeah. I was just leaving a few breadcrumbs of my own, the kind that will raise red flags at the network if he investigates them. What are you doing?”

  “Trying to figure out how to untie you.”

  “Damn. You kick ass, Kayla. Nick’s a lucky man. I love strong women.”

  Strong? Kayla wasn’t strong. She was sweating. Her heart raced. And she felt shaky inside.

  Oliver blew his breath out until his chest sank in, then wiggled and squirmed.

  As Kayla watched in amazement, he maneuvered the rope around his chest up and over his shoulders, then ducked his head and freed himself.

  He stood, his balance less than steady, arms still secured behind his back with a zip tie. He tried to sink to his knees but ended up falling with a pained grunt instead. “Damn it. I think that asshole broke a couple of my ribs.” A long groan spilled from his lips as he hunched over and forced his bound hands under his butt and down his legs until they were in front of him.

  Impressive. Kayla didn’t think she could do that, and she exercised and stretched at least five days a week.

  Once his hands were in front of him, he pushed himself to his feet again. Raising his hands to his teeth, he tugged on the long end of the zip tie.

  “I’m pretty sure you aren’t going to be able to bite through that,” she murmured, scooting around until she faced him without the empty chair between them.

  His poor battered face lit with a grin. “I’m not trying to.” Fisting his hands, he raised them over his head and brought them down in a flash as if he were trying to stab himself in the stomach.

  The plastic tie broke.

  Her eyes widened. “How’d you do that?”

  “It’s not as hard as it looks.” Oliver placed his hands together, palm to palm, and formed fists. “This, however, might be more difficult. I’ve only ever done it with duct tape.” In the next instant, he squatted and drove his fists down between his ankles at the same time.

  The zip tie held. And Oliver lost his balance. Bracing a hand on the floor, he grunted and gripped his ribs.

  “Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

  He nodded. “Just dizzy. I think I took one too many blows to the head.” Parking his butt on the floor, he began to untie the laces of one of his boots.

  “Are you really Spencer Zaveri?”

  “I guess they’ll find out when they look it up.” He smiled—the swelling in his face that steadily worsened warping it a bit—as he tugged the lace out of his boot. Looping the lace around the middle of the zip tie that bound his ankles, he took one end in each hand and began to pull on it in a sawing motion.

  Seconds later, the zip tie broke.

  Oliver rose to his feet, then staggered to one side.

  Kayla loosed a cry of concern.

  He threw his hands out to the sides and spread his legs as if bracing on the deck of a rolling ship. After a moment, he seemed to stabilize. “Okay. I might have a concussion. Either that or whatever they drugged us with is still fucking with me.”

  Carefully, he closed the distance between them.

  Kayla watched as he leaned down and threaded his shoelace through the zip tie on one of her wrists. Blood dripped from his upper lip onto her arm as he tugged on the two ends in a sawing motion again.

  “Sorry about that.”

  She nodded as the zip tie sprang open. “I’m guessing those aren’t ordinary shoelaces.”

  He went to work on the other tie. “Nope. During our training, Seconds are taught to be prepared for anything.”

  The zip tie broke.

  Kayla rubbed her wrists. Both bore raw red marks from her tugging against the restraints. “Now what?” She rose. The room around her tilted sharply, sending her tumbling sideways.

  “Whoa!” Oliver grabbed her biceps and held on tight. “You okay?”

  Fisting her hands in his bloody shirt, Kayla held on tightly. “Dizzy,” she managed to force past cold lips.

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Did they hit you while I was out?” Fury darkened his voice as every muscle went taut.

  “No. At least, I don’t think so. My face doesn’t hurt.”

  “Do you think they took too much blood?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re pretty small. Do you even weigh 110 pounds?”

  “No.” It was why she had never donated blood before.

  He swore. “The damn tranquilizer probably didn’t help. You’re about seventy pounds lighter than I am. If they gave you the same dose they gave me, it might’ve been too much.”

  She closed her eyes and rested against him for a moment. “I think you’re right. I’m not feeling so well.” Her heart continued to race. Her skin felt clammy. And her stomach was not happy with her spinning head.

  “Maybe you should sit while I try to figure a way out of this.”

  Kayla’s rubbery legs drove her to cons
ent.

  Oliver gently lowered her to the chair. Leaning down, he peered into her eyes. “Yeah. Your pupils are a little dilated.” He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Rest for a bit. I’m going to have a look around.”

  She nodded, clenching her teeth when the room swirled once more and nausea rose.

  Oliver’s brow puckered with concern as he reluctantly moved away and began searching the room. He disappeared behind a mountain of crates.

  Kayla breathed in and out through her nose, trying to wish the nausea into nonexistence. But it only worsened.

  “There’s a commercial garage door on the far side behind those crates,” Oliver muttered as he reappeared, “but it has a digital lock and I don’t think it leads outside.”

  Kayla swallowed hard as he walked past. Hot saliva seeped into her mouth. She swore silently, knowing from her pregnancy days that a miserable bout of retching would likely follow.

  “The asshole who got off on beating the crap out of me wasn’t armed,” he muttered. “I think the other four were though. Did you notice them wearing shoulder holsters?”

  Her stomach roiled.

  “Kayla?”

  Ah hell. Bolting out of the chair, she staggered over to the nearest crate, bent over behind it, and vomited. Her head swam. She lost her balance.

  Footsteps approached. Oliver wrapped an arm around her from behind and steadied her while he drew her hair back and held it.

  Her stomach continued to heave long after she emptied it. By the time it stopped, she could barely stand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, guiding her away from the disgusting sight and smell.

  “My heart’s racing.” She leaned against him, her legs weakening so much she feared he might end up having to carry her.

  “Your breathing is ragged, too. I don’t know if it’s the blood loss or an overdose or a combination of the two. But I need to get you the hell out of here.”

  “Go without me.”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Think I’m going to pass out.” Were her words slurring?

  “If you do, I’ll just carry you over my shoulder.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Sure I can.” The levity he injected into his voice failed to camouflage his concern. “You’re light as a feather. And I’m not leaving without you, Kayla.”

  If he said anything else, she didn’t hear it.

  The world around her went black.

  Nick stared at Brightwood Industries’ sprawling campus.

  It was deceptively pretty. Sleek modern buildings made of steel and glass bespoke high-priced architecture. In their center, a lake formed a figure eight and oozed both beauty and tranquility. Trees stood sentry along its banks, still flowering thanks to Houston’s crazy temperatures. Ducks nested in the bushes. A covered portico to one side protected picnic benches upon which employees no doubt enjoyed their lunches while they watched the waterfowl. On an adjacent building, a wall of glass revealed a cafeteria, dark now, that overlooked the water. A quaint little bridge crossed the lake at its narrowest, providing shorter passage to other buildings or to one of the parking lots beyond them.

  Those lots were largely empty now. His preternatural hearing strained to pick up a hint of Kayla’s and Oliver’s voices but instead found only the muted conversation of departing employees and the cleaning crew just beginning their shift.

  Seth abruptly appeared beside him.

  Nick jumped, then swore, his nerves strung tight. “Either they aren’t here or they aren’t speaking.”

  “They aren’t here,” Seth stated. “Roland found them.” His big hand clamped down on Nick’s shoulder.

  The lovely campus before them descended into darkness. That odd feeling of weightlessness that teleportation inspired hit Nick. Then the world brightened, illuminated by LED lights that beamed down on a mostly empty parking lot.

  Tall trees surrounded Nick and Seth, obscuring the view a bit. But Nick saw enough to recognize that this campus was vastly different from the one he’d just left. This one looked more akin to one of the network’s headquarters. Bland. Nondescript. Very few windows. Nothing to inspire a second glance if Seth hadn’t told him Kayla and Oliver were somewhere inside it.

  Roland, Dana, Imhotep, Eliana, and Marcus stepped from the trees to Nick’s left.

  Aidan suddenly appeared beside Seth.

  Roland nodded to them. “We need to move in quickly. Oliver is attempting an escape.”

  Nick frowned. “Why? It’s too dangerous.” Surely he knew Nick was looking for them and would find them soon.

  The British immortal glanced at Seth, then back at Nick. “He was afraid to wait. Kayla is ill. She needs medical attention and—”

  Nick took a step forward. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Gunshots sounded, barely detectable by his ears thanks to high-quality silencers.

  “Shit,” Oliver whispered somewhere inside the building, his breathing labored. “Come on, Nick. Where the fuck are you? I’m kinda outnumbered here.”

  Nick tensed and started to dart forward.

  Seth grabbed his arm, effortlessly holding him in place. We’re here, Oliver, he broadcast mentally. Where are you?

  “We just left a warehouse full of crates that had a fire-rated overhead commercial garage door,” he huffed, “and are making our way through the building. I managed to seize a couple of weapons but have no extra ammo.”

  Halt your escape and seek shelter. We’re on our way in. Seth met Nick’s gaze. “There are commercial garage doors in the back. You, Imhotep, and I will enter there.”

  Eliana stepped forward. “Dana and I will go in through the front door and create a diversion.”

  Aidan nodded. “I’ll go with them and keep an eye out for reinforcements.”

  Roland motioned to Marcus. “We’ll zip past them and make our way back to you. If we find Oliver and Kayla first, we’ll get them out.”

  Seth nodded. “Aidan, Roland, you both have telekinetic abilities. Use them to redirect every surveillance camera you see up to the ceiling so none of this will be captured on video. I’ll do the same on our end. I want to make the cleanup as easy and uncomplicated as possible for Henderson and his crew.”

  When they both agreed, Seth released Nick. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  He and Imhotep shot away in a blur.

  Nick followed, heart pounding, worry filling his stomach with acid. What was wrong with Kayla? Aidan said she was ill. How ill? Ill in what way? Was she ill or was she injured? Had they hurt her?

  More silencer-muted gunshots sounded as the three of them approached large garage doors at the back of the building. Surveillance cameras that should be focused directly upon them instead pointed up at the night sky.

  Oliver spoke inside, keeping his voice low. “From the storage room, we went right, then left, then left again. I’ve taken out two hostiles in green and gray so far.”

  Seth waved a hand. The garage door rolled upward at his telekinetic command, issuing metallic creaks and groans. “Stay here.” Ducking, Seth sped inside.

  Nick ground his teeth, impatience battering him.

  At the front of the building, Eliana greeted some men and started rambling on about surprising a birthday boy inside with a strippergram.

  What the hell was a strippergram?

  At last, the creaking door reached its zenith and he could see within. Seth stood in the center of an empty, cavernous room. A camera mounted above the door on the opposite wall stared up at the ceiling, guided there by Seth no doubt.

  Another garage door graced the wall to Nick’s left.

  It rolled up as Seth approached it.

  Nick and Imhotep followed.

  As soon as he stepped inside, Nick smelled Kayla, Oliver, blood, and vomit.

  Even Seth couldn’t keep him from zipping forward through the maze of crates and boxes until he reached two chairs close together. Rope and broken zip ties littered the floor around th
em, along with sprinkles and small puddles of blood.

  His hands curled into fists.

  At least one of them had taken a hell of a beating.

  The acrid stench of vomit wafted from behind a nearby crate.

  Roland’s words came back to him. Kayla is ill. She needs medical attention.

  Had they beaten her until she vomited?

  A red haze of fury engulfed him. A growl rumbled up from deep inside his chest and spilled from his lips.

  Imhotep strode toward a door Nick hadn’t even noticed. “This way.”

  More silenced gunshots reached his ears, accompanied by cries of fear and pain. These were farther away than the others.

  Seth fell into step with Nick as they raced after Imhotep. Marcus and Roland have taken out four armed men similar to those Oliver described.

  Good. Nick wanted them dead. All of them. Everyone who had harmed Kayla and Oliver. Everyone who had allowed them to be harmed. And Richard Roubal perched at the top of the list. That bastard was going to pay for this.

  Imhotep led them around another corner and another. Seth kept pace with him and redirected every camera they encountered while Nick brought up the rear.

  Running footsteps approached.

  Two men wearing olive-green cargo pants and light gray shirts swung around the corner at the end of the hallway. Both wielded semiautomatic handguns bearing silencers. Swearing, they raised their weapons and fired.

  Nick put on a burst of preternatural speed. Pain sliced through his arm and shoulder half a second before he plowed into them. Bones cracked. Their weapons fell to the floor. Then they slammed into the wall behind them, went through it, and sailed into the next room. Crashes and clatter arose.

  Nick dove in after them. His vision unimpeded by the darkness within, he took in the vacant office, the desk with papers strewn across it, and the computer keyboard dangling over the edge.

  Groans drew him around the desk.

  A large desktop computer with a shattered screen rested upon one of his targets. The other man rolled to his side with a groan and struggled to rise.

  Rage pumping through him, Nick fisted a hand in the man’s shirt and threw him back out into the hallway.

  The man yelped as he hit the floor outside and skidded across it until his head rammed into the far wall with an audible crack. His body went limp.