Chosen by Fate (20 page)

He willed the door open, but it wouldn’t budge.

He asked for his ancestors’ help once again, and still the door didn’t budge.

Why? Why bring him this far only to deny him access?

Was his mind trying to protect him? Did his ancestors know there was something in the room he wasn’t ready to see? That only made him more determined to get inside. More frantic when he couldn’t.

Her name echoed around him and he knew his physical body was shouting her name.

He couldn’t waste any more time trying to control the vision. It had given him what it felt he needed to know. Swiftly, he released control, and he was swept backward the way he’d come.

Conscious again, his body jerked, the sound of a shout dying in his throat.

He was sweating, the sheets twisted around him. Leaping out of bed, he grabbed his cell phone and punched in Mahone’s number. Squeezing the phone between his cheek and shoulder, he swiftly stepped into his pants. He was dressed by the time Mahone picked up.

“Wraith’s in trouble. I need the address to Ramsey Monroe’s nightclub. Now.”

 

Ramsey had Wraith stripped and strapped to a high velvetcovered table less than five minutes after they’d stepped into the small private room. It was their usual—“For old times’ sake,” Ramsey had teased—although the decor had been updated. It was still lined with the accoutrements that Ramsey preferred, although she saw that he’d picked up a new vice or two since she’d last been here.

“Ah,” he said, obviously seeing where her gaze had gone. He picked up something that looked like a small pizza cutter with stainless steel spikes. “You familiar with this, Wraith?”

When she answered, she made sure to inject a note of boredom in her voice. Inside, however, she felt ready to crack. But she wouldn’t. Not yet. Not when it didn’t mean anything. “Can’t say I am.”

Ramsey smiled indulgently. “I picked it up off the Internet. It’s actually designed based on a medical tool. Doctors used it to test nerves on the surface of the skin. Doctors know quite a lot about what the body can take, as well as the mind. In that way, they’re like the mages who, I believe, you’re far more familiar with.”

The casualness with which he mentioned the mage didn’t fool her. He looked angry. Angry that she’d spent her first few months of wraith life with him, then hadn’t come to him for help after she’d escaped the mage? Or angry because of what had been done to her?

For the first time, she wondered just how deep Ramsey’s feelings for her ran, but then she told herself she was being foolish. She’d provided Ramsey an outlet for his perverse sexual needs, that was all. He might’ve come to depend on her, but that wasn’t the same thing as caring. “Been keeping tabs on me?”

“Actually, yes. It wasn’t easy for me to let you go, especially when I knew you were with that drug-using vamp, Colt. Afterward . . . Unfortunately, my intel on you and your time with the mages was all hindsight. I apologize for that. If I’d known . . .”

Wraith laughed. “What? You would have come to rescue me? Please, Ramsey, no lies.”

He looked troubled for a second, then shrugged, putting the tool with the nasty-looking spikes back in its resting place. “You’re right, Wraith. No lies. That’s always what’s worked best with us. Total honesty. It’s why we were together so long. Why you left. And why you’re back tonight, isn’t that right?”

“Yes. It is.”

He stepped up to her and reached out, caressed the underside of her breast and flicked her nipple with the edge of his nail. The sight and touch should have been arousing, even with the pain that caused her to bite her lip. But it wasn’t. And it didn’t matter. She wasn’t here for that. Unlike the pleasure she’d found with Colt, all she’d ever experienced with Ramsey was pain. Even so, she’d needed it. Been addicted to it. The more intense, the better. Someone else wouldn’t understand, but wraiths were drawn to pain because they had no other choice. What they once feared and loathed became their comfort. Their reality. The only thing they had left of their human selves.

So she arched up and tried to force Ramsey to touch her again. To give her that jolt of pain as a prelude to what was going to come, but he pulled back and shook his head.

“Not so fast, Wraith. You’ve been gone a long time. We need to start slow.”

She narrowed her eyes furiously. “Don’t fuck around, Ramsey. I didn’t ask you to ease me in. It’s not what I need. I want you to work me over, and I want you to use your tools. All of them.”

Sorrow was in his expression, making her feel real confusion. “We’ll get to that part, Wraith. But right now, you don’t know what you need.”

I need Caleb, she thought, and she would have kicked herself if she could.

Even here, even now, even when she was asking, almost begging for what he would surely find abhorrent, she wanted him.

“
You
don’t know what I need,” she spat, and she began to struggle against her binds, hoping that it would incite Ramsey’s need to contain her. Dominate her. “Besides, this has never been about what I need. That’s what it was supposed to be, what you made me believe, but the truth was it was more about what you needed. The sick pleasure you take from people’s pain. But I don’t care about that anymore, Ramsey. Take your pleasure. Just give me the pain.”

Her goading didn’t work. Ramsey maintained his cool, through all her cursing and yelling, until she finally stopped, exhausted. Breathing heavily, she stared up at the ceiling and croaked. “Fine. Ease me into it, then,” she said. “Just get started.”

C
aleb bypassed the front entrance, which was being guarded by four pit bulls overseeing a steady stream of traffic. Instead, he decided to enter by the back, which was only being guarded by two. He wanted in and out as fast as possible, especially because he knew Wraith was going to fight leaving with him. That meant he needed the element of surprise, and it wouldn’t serve his purpose if he got into a fight with the guards and it alerted her to his presence.

He took the drug-filled darts out of his back pocket and loaded them into his gun. They contained a tranquilizer that instantly knocked someone out when it pricked the skin. He’d have time to shoot both guards before the first even fell to the ground.

That’s exactly what he did.

He swung down from the roof, rolled the bodies into the bushes, knocked on the door, and waited for someone on the kitchen staff to open it. Swiftly, he pulled the man out and knocked him unconscious, then stripped him of his kitchen uniform. The man was quite a bit heavier than Caleb, so he pulled the white uniform on over his regular clothes and stuffed his weapons into his waistband and the uniform’s various pockets. Then he grabbed a dishrag and tray, kept his head down, and went after Wraith.

He’d persuaded Mahone to let him come alone. In fact, Mahone hadn’t needed much persuasion. He knew as well as Caleb did that the chances of Wraith being here against her will were slim to none. No, she was here voluntarily, which was why Caleb hadn’t asked Dex or Lucy to back him up. Instinctively, he’d known this was between him and Wraith. She wouldn’t appreciate it if Dex or Lucy saw her in a compromised, weakened position. She’d hate him and would probably leave the team altogether. He wasn’t taking the risk of humiliating her, but he was going to get her the hell out of this place. Then she was going to have to deal with the very thing that had sent her running here in the first place—him.

As soon as he got out of the kitchen, he found a secluded corner where a mage was humping a vamp and stepped out of the service-wear so he was back in his dark clothes. They didn’t even look up at him.

Scanning the nightclub, Caleb got his bearings. He saw the layout of the room just as he had in his vision. With certainty, he headed up some stairs and in the direction of the room that contained Wraith. Just when he got to the beginning of the long hallway, however, a beefy hand clamped on his shoulder. Having expected some resistance, he maintained his control, turning as if he was an oblivious patron who’d simply taken a wrong turn.

“Hold on, man. Where’s your pass?”

“My pass?”

The guy pointed at the sign: NO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT PASS.

“Oh.” He shrugged. Scratched his head. “I want a room. Where do I get the pass?”

“Where do you think?” The guy jerked his head toward the bar and the cash register next to it, which was being manned by a young blond woman in a low-cut red sheath.

Caleb nodded and shrugged. Gave his charming, good-oldboy smile. “You want to join me?”

The man’s lip curled and he gave Caleb a hard shove toward the woman in red, who gave him a seductive smile.

“Two thousand dollars,” she said.

Caleb whistled. “Two thousand bucks? Man, that’s a lot of money.” He leaned in close. “You know, I don’t usually do this kind of thing. But a buddy of mine told me about this place, and I’m just curious. I’d like to see what goes on in there. How much would you charge me for that?”

The woman smiled tightly. “Two thousand dollars.” She was obviously used to being sweet-talked.

“How about I give you a tip instead,” he said, catching sight of the photo taped to her cash register. He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, then flashed her his badge—discreetly, in case anyone else was looking. “You look like a regular working-class girl”—he looked down at her name tag—“Sheila. And I’m here looking for someone. All I want is to find her and get her out of here. If you let me go, let me do that, I’ll make sure you’re in the clear when my friends waiting outside come in and round everyone up. Do we have a deal?”

Sheila’s eyes widened, and she studied him for several long seconds. He saw her gaze dart to the small picture he’d seen. It was of a little boy. Maybe five. One that had Sheila’s nose and dimples.

Two minutes later, he flashed his admittance pass at the guy guarding the hallway and was directed to the eighth door down. Someone, he said, would join him shortly. He headed down, stopped in front of Wraith’s door, and didn’t bother to knock. He took out his gun, and with his grenade and gas canisters within easy reach, kicked in the door.

 

Ramsey had just gotten started, and Wraith hadn’t allowed herself to scream. Then again, the small stuff he’d done to her barely warranted a whimper, let alone a scream, and it was seriously starting to piss her off. “Stop fucking around and just do it, Ramsey.”

He pulled back his arm and hit her with the studded tails of the flogger, right across her stomach, and the impact caused her body to jerk up. He’d used some power this time, and a slight hiss had left her, but at the same time, tears had formed in her eyes. She could feel the damn moisture, and she wanted to spit.

It wasn’t enough, she thought. For some reason, Ramsey was holding back. As if he’d changed. As if he could no longer dispense the pain she needed the way he had so easily years ago.

“Why? Why even start if you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it?” Wraith whispered.

Ramsey’s hand fell to his side, still lightly grasping the whip. “I don’t know, Wraith,” he said. “When I saw you, I could tell you were bad-off. I want to do it. I should be able to. But you’re different now. This is different. It doesn’t feel . . .”

They both heard the crash at the same time. The door to the room slammed open just before Caleb stalked in. Without glancing at her, Caleb kicked the door shut with his foot.

“What the . . .” Ramsey spun around, but before he completed the revolution, Caleb was on him.

Ramsey’s head snapped back from the force of Caleb’s punch, and he staggered until he fell against the table that Wraith was strapped to.

“Caleb!” Wraith yelled, but not to protect Ramsey, because she knew Ramsey to be a dirty fighter. Even so, when Ramsey pulled a knife out from under the table, Wraith reconsidered whether Caleb was the one she should really be worrying about. Caleb’s face was set in a killing rage.

He didn’t look at her or acknowledge her in any way. Instead, he wiggled his fingers at Ramsey, who’d regained his balance. “Come on,” he ordered. “Let’s see what damage you can do when your prey isn’t tied up.”

Ramsey wiggled his jaw and cocked a brow. “Happy to. But first, who are you to Wraith? Not a lover, of course.”

Caleb scowled and inched closer. “Why the hell not a lover?”

Glancing at her, Ramsey taunted, “Because if you’d been lovers, you obviously weren’t giving the bitch what she needed.”

To her disbelief, Ramsey winked at her. Her shock made her hesitate, and the next thing she knew, Caleb roared and tackled Ramsey, his fists connecting to the man’s face and body one after another. Despite the wink, Ramsey fought back, and the two men dragged each other around the room until they fell to the floor and Wraith lost sight of them. Flesh hit flesh. She saw Ramsey’s arm rise and the glint of his knife more than once. At some point, the knife became covered with blood.

“Caleb. Ramsey. Stop! This is ridiculous,” she repeated her words more than once even as she struggled against her damn wrist restraints. Finally, the room grew quiet.

Caleb rose to his feet, his fierce gaze locked on hers.

He was taking in deep breaths, not like he was exhausted, but like he was trying to control himself. Ramsey had cut his face in a shallow line that ran from the bottom of his nose into his ear. His lip was bloodied, too, and both eyes were already starting to swell.

His gaze ran over her, over her body, and she wanted to scream. Because he could see the scars on her body now. Long ago, he’d noticed the ones on her wrist. The ones on her throat. Maybe he’d even been anticipating the ones underneath her clothes. Because he didn’t look surprised. He surveyed her body with dispassion—no desire, concern, or tenderness in his eyes. Stepping over Ramsey’s body, he kicked the flogger out of his hand so it clattered against the floor. Then he picked it up.