Collector's Item (17 page)

“Douglas, think. They’ve got us trapped. There’s bound to be a sniper team out there. We’re lucky they didn’t take the shot outside. We’ll never get to the runway.”

KT’s heart stopped when the gun in her side shifted a little.
He’s going to kill me
.

“This never would have happened if you hadn’t faked your kidnapping,” Torne snarled.

Patricia’s eyes narrowed and the lines of her face flattened. “No. This never would have happened if you hadn’t set your goons on KT.
You
brought this on us.”

KT flinched as Torne’s arm tightened. His breath was hot against her head. “I always knew you’d turn on me.”

The muzzle of the gun swung away from KT. The flash and roar of another shot and a small round hole appeared in Patricia’s forehead, above her startled eyes. KT back-pedaled in horror from the spray of blood that splattered the side of the SUV. Patricia dropped to the ground.

Again, Torne shoved the gun into KT’s side. “Keep moving!”

Terrified, KT tried to obey, but she couldn’t. Her gaze refused to move from Patricia’s body while a puddle of blood spread out on the concrete floor. KT’s chest tightened and her stomach tried to revolt while her brain kept replaying the moment when the bullet entered her aunt’s forehead.

He killed her. He killed her. He killed her!
The words kept spinning through her brain, shock unwinding her last bit of control. Andi’s coughing roar rushed free and the heat of transformation swept over KT.

Unable to remain on two feet, she stumbled and dropped to her knees. Torne, not understanding, hauled her upright again and then swore as KT’s skin began to move beneath his hands.

“Stop it, bitch!” He backed up, holding his gun in both hands. “Stop or I’ll put you down right here.”

She tried to tell Torne she couldn’t stop, but all that came out was a mix between a snarl and a scream. KT crouched on the concrete, her thoughts chaotic as her personality and Andi’s began the struggle for supremacy. The knowledge that Torne had a gun focused on her only fueled Andi’s desperation and sped up their transformation.

“Drop it, Torne! Now!” Peyton stepped around the rear of the SUV, his gun aimed at Torne. The sudden blast of two shots shocked KT and she lost control.

Her awareness narrowed to the fiery burn of muscles shifting and the rasp of bones repositioning. She opened her mouth, panting to release some of the heat. Her skin stretched and pulled in a thousand different directions while it strained to accommodate her changing shape. Hair pushed through the pores of her skin, the fur dappled with spotted rosettes. The handcuffs around her ankles and wrists slid down limbs they were never intended to restrain, and clattered on the concrete.

Kill!
All of Andi’s attention focused on reaching Torne. KT struggled to hold her back.

Don’t!
KT strained to make herself understood in the emotional storm that was a cornered and enraged jaguar.
Gun!

Heedless, Andi spun toward Torne.
Enemy!
But KT’s clothes tangled her paws. She fell over then clawed herself free from the cloth around her rear legs, the sting of cordite in her nose.

Blood seeped from a small hole in the front of his shirt as Torne collapsed to his knees, but his gun remained in his hand. He sighted down the barrel. “Damn you!”

Andi twisted aside and his shot missed. She lunged again. One paw, claws fully extended, sliced down the length of his arm, severing tendons and veins. The gun fell from nerveless fingers.

Torne screamed as her weight bore him to the ground. He swung his good arm up between Andi’s mouth and his throat. She sank her teeth into his forearm and tasted blood, hot and salty.

KT just managed to keep Andi from breaking the bone or ripping the flesh from Torne’s arm. He twisted and writhed beneath her, but Andi clung to him with claws and teeth.

A sharp pain exploded in her hip. Andi released her prey and twisted around. A tranquilizer dart protruded from her hip. Infuriated, she dug her claws into the soft flesh of Torne’s body while she twisted further to try to reach it.

Torne shouted and cursed beneath her, one hand scrambling after the gun lying just beyond his reach. She swung her head around and thrust her muzzle toward his face to snarl at him. He froze, his arms up to shield his face, his face turned aside. Satisfied, she sniffed at the blood streaming from his arm, but when her vision clouded, she grew uneasy.

Hide. Too open. Strangers.
She staggered off the man and bobbed her head around seeking shelter. Strange shapes and wavering shadows confused her even more.

“Don’t move, Torne.”

Andi swung her head toward the voice. Her alpha, the one KT called Peyton, moved forward to kneel just beyond her reach. Despite her trust in her alpha, Andi hated the strange smells and echoing sounds in the space around her. She crouched on wobbly legs, snarling and hissing.

He gestured to another man, who moved around her toward Torne. She snapped at the closer man, but missed, unable to judge the distance as her vision wavered.

Her attention returned to her alpha kneeling in front of her. Everything else was getting dark in a way that she didn’t like. She growled, but couldn’t stay on her feet. She sank to the floor.

“Calm down, KT.” The alpha’s voice penetrated the haze. He reached out his hand to touch her shoulder.

Alpha!
Darkness swept her away.

Chapter Nineteen

KT woke up, naked, groggy, and shivering under a thermal blanket. The thrum of engines filled her ears and reverberated through the cushions beneath her. She smelled blood. Torne’s. A bitter smile curled her lips.

“Ms. Marant? Would you like something to drink?”

She squinted with her good eye at the figure seated opposite her. An Alliance ranger, a medic’s white caduceus on his chest pocket, held out a bottle, its sides glistening with moisture. KT’s mouth felt like a proverbial desert and she nodded. She pushed herself upright on the bench seat, grabbing the blanket when it threatened to slide off.

Modesty restored, she took the bottle. She winced when she pressed the mouth of the bottle against her split lip. Contrary to urban legend, transformation was not a cure-all for shifters. Torne’s handiwork on her face remained very painfully present.

The first swallow was pure nectar, wet and cool. Water with some kind of additives, probably nutrients. The second and third swallows followed too quickly to register much more.

When the bottle was empty, she handed it back to the medic. “Thank you.”

She looked around the passenger compartment of the helicopter. Her father’s helicopter. She recognized the interior—the butter-soft leather upholstery, the engraved family seal, with their family motto—What Marant Takes, Marant Holds—on the front bulkhead to the left of the medic’s seat.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Back to the city. Your father’s waiting at the heliport.” The medic leaned forward to touch her forehead and peer into her eyes. “Do you feel any dizziness? Discomfort of any kind?”

She shrugged and grabbed the blanket again when it slipped off one shoulder. Irritable and over-stressed, she snapped, “You mean, aside from being stark naked under this blanket? Then no, I’m fine.”

When the poor man had the grace to blush, KT felt ashamed of herself. She gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“No problem.” The medic smiled and then pulled another bottle out of a small cooler next to his feet. “You should drink some more. The electrolytes and supplements should help you re-hydrate.”

When she took the bottle, the plastic was deliciously cool against her palm. “Thank you.”

The medic sat back and picked up a small electronic notebook. He busied himself making notes on the screen.

KT held the bottle and leaned back against the deep padding of her seat. Why did they fly her out alone? Had she been too dangerous to travel with the others? Not likely, since they’d sent her with a single medic and no restraints.

The memory of blood and Torne’s screams made her feel both guilty and satisfied. Torne would survive the attack, but he’d have some scars to show for it. At least, she’d gotten some of her own back.

She turned to look out the window of the helicopter. The towers of Manhattan spread out below her. They were probably headed for the West 30
th
Street Heliport. Her family used it regularly. She hoped someone had thought to ask her father to bring some clothes for her. Again.

She struggled to arrange the blanket into a toga. While the medic pointedly concentrated on his notebook, KT still felt a bit like an exhibitionist. Nudity within the clan was one thing, nudity in front of a total stranger was another. However, she wanted to be prepared, in case she had to foot it across the helipad to a car.

The one thing she wasn’t prepared for was her reaction when the door of the helicopter opened and her father climbed inside. She burst into tears and threw herself into her father’s arms. The medic scooted around them and out the door.

“He killed Aunt Patricia,” KT managed to hiccup through her sobs. “He killed Aunt Patricia like a rabid animal.”

“Shush, dear, shush,” her father murmured as his hands stroked her hair.

When her tears calmed to sniffles, her father pushed her back a little and took a good look at her, his hands tight around her shoulders. His relief evaporated beneath the heat of a monumental fury. KT blinked in shock when her father began to swear.

He visibly forced himself to calm down after a colorful few moments. “It’s a damn good thing Torne is in custody. I’d kill him myself if I ever got my hands on him.”

KT tried to soothe her father with a watery smile. “I’m fine. A little worse for wear, but believe me, Torne will have a few reminders of his mistake.”

Anton’s eyebrows lifted and he nodded with approval. “That’s right. I heard you attacked him.” His voice took on a bitter satisfaction while his eyes narrowed. “Torne’s been taken to a local hospital, under arrest. Looks like he’s got severe nerve damage in his right arm, and he’ll probably lose the sight in his left eye.”

Now it was KT’s turn to frown. “I remember taking out his arm, but I didn’t get to his face. They tranked me before I could do any more.”

Anton stepped to the doorway and gestured to someone outside. He spoke over his shoulder. “The reports are sketchy, but seems Torne tried to make a break for it. Peyton intercepted him. There was a fight.” He turned back with a garment bag in his hands. “Here. They called ahead that you’d need clothes.”

KT held out her hands and tried to ignore the way they trembled despite her best effort. “Thank you! I was afraid I was going to have to walk across the helipad looking like a reject from a frat party.”

****

“Not that I don’t appreciate a free room with cable and all the take-out I can eat, Ham, but when do I get out of here?” Peyton paced the living room of the Alliance safe house. Ham watched him from the sofa.

Peyton’s two “keepers” sat at a small card table near the front door with a clear view down the hall to the back door. They’d admitted Ham and then faded into the background like white noise made solid.

As he paced, Peyton was careful to stay away from the windows, even though they were curtained. Outside, he could hear lawn mowers, kids shouting and laughing, and a distant sprinkler. Suburbia at its best.

“You’d have to be here, even if it hadn’t taken three men to pull you off Torne at that hangar,” Ham replied. He raised a hand when Peyton spun around. “The asshole deserved every bit of what you gave him, but damn, Peyton, you know better than to beat up a prisoner.”

Peyton shoved his fingers through his hair. “You’re right. I screwed up.”

“Yeah, you did, but the team’ll back you up one hundred percent. A couple of them lost family to the Collectors. Still, Torne’s lawyer is pushing hard.”

Peyton headed for the recliner. “‘Course he is. What else has he got?”

Ham shook his head. “Torne may be in custody and facing a long prison term, however, he’s still got enough clout to strike back at you if he wants.”

Peyton chuckled. “He’s vindictive, not stupid. Anything happens to me, the first suspect’s gonna be him. I might actually be safer than I’ve been for years.” Peyton settled in the chair and then frowned at Ham. “You’re not thinking of sending me into the program, are you?”

“Witness Protection has been mentioned.” Ham leaned forward. “You want to live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”

Peyton snorted. “Been doing that for about four years. Don’t see any reason to change now.”

“Benny Lofland agreed quickly enough. In exchange for giving up all his contacts in the Collectors organization.” Ham flicked a speck of dust off his hat where it lay beside him on the couch. “Part of his plea bargain. Sharp negotiator.”

Peyton laughed. “Lofland’s gonna have way more guns aimed at his head than I will. He’d be a fool not to take it, and Benny’s nobody’s fool.”

“Yeah. His information reads like a ‘who’s who’ of the anti-paranormal lobby,” Ham said. “Most still would have been as untouchable as Torne if not for additional evidence gathered by the FBI.”

“About time they got off their asses,” Peyton said, remembering how quickly the Bureau pulled out of the investigation into Lance’s death. He leaned forward. “Did you get anything that connected Torne with Lance Thompson’s murder? Anyone in the Bureau?”