Anything He Wants: The Betrayal (#5) (5 page)

The lights in the kitchen flickered on as the electricity powered back up, but the glass lining the back of the house remained clear. “Get that safety glass on,” Jeremiah barked, holding me tightly against him. A second later someone flipped the switch and the glass fogged over again, the ocean disappearing from sight. The sniper, however, wasn’t finished; bullets continued to pop through the fogged glass, mostly centered around Lucas’s and Anya’s location.

Apparently the gunman didn’t like being made a fool.

“Go,” Jeremiah said softly, pushing to my feet and propelling me toward the entryway less than ten feet away. He shielded me with his body as we ran the short distance to the relative safety of the main lobby of the house. Lucas came through not long behind us, bloody hands hanging stiffly at his side.

Georgia was at the far end of the lobby, one guard holding her in place. The frantic expression on her face melted as both her sons came through the door, but she paled when she saw the blood on Lucas. Wresting her arm out of the guard’s grip, she moved toward her eldest son, jaw moving in helpless shock, only to have him lift a hand to stop her. “It’s not mine,” he said. There wasn’t any emotion in his voice. Anya’s death must have burned it out of him, at least for the moment.

Uncertainty marred the older woman’s face, clearly debating what to do. I wondered what she would do, perhaps try to mend the relationship with a hug, but her personality won out. Her chin went up as the arrogant mask clamped down hard, and it occurred to me the whole family hid parts of themselves from the world as if showing any true emotion would allow others to use it against them. And perhaps that’s what happened in the past.

Ethan came through the front door, flanked by another guard with a cell phone to his ear. “We’ve got generator power back on but it’s going to take a while to fix the mess with the main power lines,” he said. “There are three wounded outside, emergency medical is en route.”

“We have casualties in here, too, with at least one dead. Get all the wounded upstairs and coordinate to make sure everyone gets attention.” Jeremiah put a hand on each of my shoulders, then pushed me toward Ethan. “Take care of her and my brother, there’s no time to waste.”

“Sir?”

“We need to find that sniper now before he disappears again.” He looked at me. “Stay with Ethan; do whatever he tells you.”

I had to force myself to release his arm. The urge to try holding him back in the safety of the house was strong, but somehow I knew it wouldn’t stop him. He needed this, to be back in the trenches hunting the bad guy. That he was the ultimate target didn’t matter to Jeremiah, I could see it in his eyes. So instead of protesting, I swallowed back my fears and said, “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

His manner softened at my words, whether in relief or something else. He kissed the top of my head as the wounded guards were brought inside. “I’ll be back for you, I promise,” he murmured, then headed out the door.

“Take them upstairs,” Ethan ordered, and the remaining guards moved up the staircase with the wounded.

“Great,” Lucas muttered, staring woodenly at the floor, “I have Captain America babysitting me. Whoop-de-freaking—”

Ethan spun around in front of me, his fist exploding across Lucas’s face, sending the man to the ground in a crumpled heap. “I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Ethan said under his breath.

I stared down at the scarred man in dismay. “Did you really have to do that?” I asked, moving forward to see if Lucas was okay. “He wasn’t any threat…”

A hand wrapped around my head, clapping a cloth over my mouth. Startled, I struggled, opening my mouth to scream but instead breathed in a sickly sweet aroma. Almost immediately the room spun, and I heard Ethan mumble a soft, “I’m sorry for this,” as my legs gave out and I was lowered to the floor.

I’ve heard that phrase too much tonight,
was my last thought before losing consciousness.

My dream was weird: I couldn’t tell, even within the context of the subconscious fantasy, whether I was flying or falling through the air. Clouds whipped past me, the ground far away like I’d only ever seen from inside an airplane. Something was in my arms, perhaps the reason for my descent, but I wasn’t afraid. The ground drew ever closer, yet I felt entirely content with the whole situation, although I had no idea why.

The real-world feel of somebody rummaging through my pockets popped me out of the dream state. Sudden vertigo made my head swim, remnants of the dream perhaps, before I realized we actually were moving and that I was lying on my side. My hands were tied against my lap in front of me, my feet were similarly bound, and I was precariously perched across the backseat of an unknown car. When I tried to sit up, I also discovered that I was tied down by seatbelts, the thick straps pulling me back onto the warm leather.

A man sat in the driver’s seat, working with a phone in his thick hand. Figuring he didn’t know I was awake yet, I surveyed my surroundings, blinking away the grogginess. Everything was covered in black leather, the textured, expensive type, and it smelled brand-new, but the car itself was unfamiliar to me. The backseat was narrow, with very little leg room—I stayed curled up to keep from bumping the sides—so I guessed it was a sports car of some kind. The whine of an engine used to going fast speeds confirmed that suspicion but didn’t give me any other details. I turned myself up to peer up through the window to the overcast skies outside. The leather squeaked beneath me, attracting the driver’s attention, and my heart skipped as I recognized the familiar face. “Ethan?”

He turned back around, staring at the road. He tossed the cell phone onto the passenger seat and I realized it was mine, the replacement Jeremiah had given to me after I broke mine in Paris.

“The girl is awake?”

My eyes widened when I heard the other voice. I peeked around at the passenger seat in front of my head but nobody else was in the car. The voice hadn’t come from any one direction, and Ethan didn’t seem surprised although his jaw did tighten.

“The sedative wore off early,” Ethan replied. His voice was gravelly, angry, as if he didn’t want to respond.

My cell phone on the seat in front of me burst into sound, visibly startling Ethan. “What is that?” came the disembodied voice, annoyance creeping into its unctuous tone.

“The girl’s phone.” Ethan picked it back up and looked at the screen. “It’s Jeremiah,” he added flatly.

My heart raced at the name. Chest tight, I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

“Answer it,” the voice directed. “Put it on speaker.”

Ethan put the call through, then set the telephone on his lap. Before he could say anything, however, I exclaimed, “Jeremiah!”

“Lucy. Where are you?”

Something cold inside my soul melted at his voice. He sounded strong and sure, and I desperately needed the assurance. “I’m in the backseat of a car,” I replied, hating the desperate quality of my voice but eager to get out as much as I could. “Some sports car with all black leather. I can’t see anything but overcast skies out the window. I’m with Ethan.” I stopped, not sure how to break the news about my kidnapping.

My eyes met Ethan’s stony gaze, then the big man sighed. “I’m sorry about this, Jeremiah.”

“Ethan?” he growled. Perhaps if I could see Jeremiah’s face I could decipher the emotion I heard hanging on that simple word—surprise, rage, betrayal, disappointment—but for now there was only the word and the demand for answers behind it.

“They have Celeste.” Profound regret tinged the big man’s voice, and I saw his mouth turn down.

Jeremiah cursed. “When?”

“I don’t know but I got the call while you were arguing with your family. You know I’d do anything to protect her.”

“So you set this up?” Even over the phone, the rage in Jeremiah’s voice bubbled over. “You let three men die because—”

“No,” Ethan exploded, “that was not me. I didn’t know anything until that call and the lights went out before I was off the phone. I swear to you on whatever honor I have left that I had no part in that attack.”

“You ask for trust after kidnapping my—” Jeremiah cut himself off, then asked, “Where are you going?”

“To make the trade.”

“Goddammit, Ethan!”

“You’d do the same for her, don’t bother denying it.” Ethan glanced back at me, then gave a harsh laugh. “This whole thing is just like Kosovo.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line, then Jeremiah growled again, “Goddammit, Ethan…”

“When this is over, don’t blame Celeste. This is all my decision.” Ethan picked up the cell phone. “I’m hanging up now. Good-bye Jeremiah.”

“Ethan, wait—”

Ethan disconnected the call, staring at the phone in his hand.

“Throw the phone out the window.”

I started at the smarmy voice beside my head as Ethan did as he was told, lowering the window and tossing out the cell phone. I looked up beside my head and realized the voice was coming from the car speakers. Part of me was relieved there wasn’t another person in the car with us but I had the sinking sensation I would very soon meet the voice in person.

“What happened in Kosovo?” the voice asked conversationally.

“An informant betrayed us,” Ethan replied, voice neutral. “We didn’t realize until after the fact that our target had kidnapped the man’s wife and family, so he gave us up to save them.”

“Did they all survive?”

“No,” came the clipped reply.

“Pity, although perhaps a fitting end for his crimes. Betrayal really is the nastiest of sins, wouldn’t you say?”

Ethan’s knuckles on the steering wheel were white from the strain of his grip, but he didn’t reply to the obvious taunt. “What are you going to do with the girl?” Ethan asked after a short pause.

“Kill her, then kill your friend when he comes to save her.”

I moaned and squeezed my eyes shut, tears leaking from the edge of my lashes. When I opened them again, I saw Ethan staring at me in the rearview mirror. “And if I don’t bring her to you?”

“I kill your precious wife. Hmm, eventually. She really is a pretty little thing, if you like redheads that is.”

Ethan’s hands twisted on the steering wheel. “You son of a bitch…”

There was a commotion on the other end of the line, then a woman screamed in pain. Celeste. Ethan swerved the car at the sound, bellowing, “Stop it!”

The screaming stopped but the soft sobbing in the background was almost as gut-wrenching. “If you don’t want any more marks on your precious wife,” the voice stated, no longer amused, “you won’t call me any more names. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Ethan growled, but his profile was a bleak hopelessness.

My heart was pounding, threatening to leap from my chest. My breaths came shaky and fast. “Ethan, please,” I whispered, throat constricting at the thought of what was coming.
I don’t want to die!

“Shut her up,” the assassin said.

I squirmed, desperate to get free, as Ethan grabbed a white rag from the passenger seat and reached back toward me. His long arms found my face easily but I fought, holding my breath and twisting everywhere I could against the seatbelts to get away. Ethan had the patience of Job, however, and spots danced along my vision as I quickly exhausted my oxygen supply. I sobbed out a breath, the sickly sweet aroma of the drug trickling down into my lungs, and seconds later I fell back into unconsciousness.

This time, there were no dreams.

4

I didn’t know how long I was out this time, but the increased rocking and bouncing of the car was what initially pulled me out of my drug-induced slumber. It wasn’t until we stopped, however, that I became fully conscious, the sudden lack of movement jarring me awake. There was the sound of a car door and clunk of a seat, then my legs were grabbed. Involuntarily I fought but my struggles were weak and ineffectual as I was pulled from the vehicle and slung over a shoulder. Chill air circulated off the water and I immediately began to shiver, the thin clothing I wore no match for the wet winter gust.

“Can you stand?” Ethan’s voice rumbled nearby.

My stomach roiled, nausea threatening to overwhelm me, but I managed a weak, “Yes.” The world spun again but Ethan was gentle, setting me on my feet beside the car. I staggered, placing a hand on the glossy sports car for support, and forced myself to look around. Seagulls screeched above, plaintive cries slicing through the air. The ocean surf lapped rhythmically nearby but I wasn’t able to see the opposing shoreline with the fog over the water. Factory buildings lined the seaside road, blocking us in. The waterfront road was narrow and hazy, tendrils of fog snaking in over the bumpy asphalt, but I saw another car a few hundred yards away pointed ominously toward us. “Is that…?”

I noticed something from the corner of my eye and glanced back to see a gun in Ethan’s hand. My breath quickened but he caught my gaze and shook his head ever so slightly, keeping the weapon pointed to the ground and hidden behind my body. “Where’s my wife?” he called out to the assassin who was still obviously listening from the car.

The door to the car nearby opened, confirming my fears. A slim figure with very red hair staggered out of the vehicle as the door was shut behind her. “Ethan?” Celeste called, her voice tinny over the distance.

“I’m here, Celeste,” he called back, and I could feel the tension leak out of his body as Celeste’s head snapped in our direction. She staggered toward us, and I could see she was both blindfolded and had her hands cuffed behind her.

“Wait for her to reach you,” the assassin said, his oily voice through the car’s sound system making my hands curl into fists. I bit my lip as a solid
snikt
came from behind me, no doubt Ethan readying his weapon. My chin quivered and I gritted my teeth, determined to be strong.
Oh, but it’s so hard.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to mention that your wife is wearing a bomb?”

I heard a quick intake of breath and Ethan’s grip on my upper arm tightened. The pleased note in the assassin’s obsequious voice intensified as he continued, “If you’re considering any heroics, the first casualty in this conflict will be your beloved wife. So please put away that gun you’re hiding behind Ms. Delacourt or my finger might get a bit…twitchy.”