Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers (15 page)

They were lucky it hadn't landed on the floor.
She reached for it and Zane suddenly stopped her. "Put it on speakerphone or tape
it."
Sophia nodded and pressed several buttons. "Hello." Her voice was husky,
reminding Zane of what they'd just done.
She
froze,
her entire body stiffening. Zane's muscles locked tight as the distorted
voice came across the speaker. "You disappointed me, Ms. Daring. I all but handed you
the murderer and yet no one has taken anyone in for questioning."
All softness disappeared from Sophia's voice. "Yeah, well, it was a bit too easy.
How do I know that you're not the guilty party?"
"You don't." Zane could hear the malice mixed with humor in the man's voice.
"You're a very smart lady, Ms. Daring.
Maybe too smart for your own good."
And he
was suddenly very sure that it was a male, in spite of the attempt to cover up gender.
"Maybe you need more proof." The phone clicked dead before Sophia could ask
anything else.
She turned off her phone and swiveled to look at him. "He's the murderer."
Zane had come to the very same conclusion. "Why do you think so?" He wanted to
know what she was thinking. Hoping they were both wrong in their conclusion.
She chewed on her bottom lip and her eyes that had been filled with such pleasure
and contentment only moments ago were now filled with dread and worry. "He's
enjoying this way too much. You could hear the pleasure in his voice." She shivered
and Zane cursed, wrapping his arms around her. "He's going to kill again."
Zane sighed, knowing Sophia was right. He'd sensed the same thing. This killer
enjoyed what he did and, for some unknown reason, wanted to frame the
Dalakis
family for his crimes. "I know." He also knew there was nothing either of them could
do to stop him.
"I have to call the police and tell them that I had another phone call."
Zane nodded, his mind shifting gears. "I have to go and talk to the
Dalakis
family. I
may not be convinced of their innocence in everything, but they need to know they
have an enemy who'll go to any lengths to hurt them."
Sophia suddenly seemed to realize she was naked. She jumped out of his lap and
grabbed her underwear, tugging it on. Then she wrestled with the twisted ends of her
bra. When they wouldn't straighten themselves out, she yanked the bra off, tossing it
aside in frustration. Then she hunted around until she found her pullover and slipped it
on.
Zane reached to the floor and picked up his T-shirt. Standing, he turned the shirt
right side out again and pulled it on while he watched Sophia finish dressing. He
touched her shoulder, stopping her before she could get out of arm's reach. She stilled,
her gaze flying to his. He started to speak, but she stopped him.
"We don't have time to talk right now. Not about what just happened, or what
seems to be going on between us. Right now, we have to focus on the murder and the
mystery with the
Dalakis
family. If we tell the cops about the call and then go and see
the
Dalakis
brothers ourselves, maybe we can come up with the real murderer. Maybe
we can stop him before he kills someone else."
He could tell she didn't truly believe there was any way to stop this madman from
striking again, but knew that they had to try. If they didn't, neither one of them would
be able to live with themselves.
"Make your call and do whatever else you need to do. We'll leave as soon as you're
ready." She nodded and started to walk away, but he tugged her back. His arms
banded around her as he leaned down and kissed her. He could feel her softening in his
embrace and relaxed slightly as he let her go. "This is not over. Not by a long shot." She
nodded and he knew she understood that he was talking about them and not the
murder.
He watched as she hurried out of the room. "It might never be over," he muttered
beneath his breath.
Chapter Eleven
Blythe leaned back against the door and drew in a deep breath. She hadn't expected
the man she'd struggled with last night to find her, but Sam Cassidy was obviously a
very smart and resourceful man.
Navely
, she'd believed she could deliver the message
to the
Dalakis
family and avoid detection. How
was it
the old saying went? "No good
deed goes unpunished?" Well, she was through with being the one on the short end of
the stick all the time. She'd more than paid for the mistakes she'd made in her life.
Shuddering, she pushed away from the door. It was amazing just how difficult it
was for her not to confide in Cassidy. The man exuded a confidence, a solidness that
made her want to lean on him, if only for a moment. Of course, she hadn't. She'd
learned at a very young age, when her father had abandoned her and her mother, that
men couldn't be depended on.
She walked to the window and peeked around the curtain just in time to see
Cassidy disappear into the shadows across the street. The edges of the business card
he'd given her dug into her palm. Angry with herself for even considering using it, she
stomped over to the garbage can and dropped it inside. Slamming the lid shut, she
began to pace. Her gaze kept wandering back to the garbage can until she couldn't
stand it any longer. Marching back over to the tiny kitchen area, she flipped up the lid
and pulled out the card, tucking it in her back pocket. She'd just keep it for a few days.
Just in case.
Taking the few steps necessary to reach her chair, she flung herself down into it.
Maybe she should leave the city. After all, there wasn't anything holding her here any
longer. Her mother had wanted to live out the last of her days in the city she'd been
born and lived in her entire life, but her mother was dead now. She'd succumbed to her
cancer just a month ago. Blythe was free to travel anywhere she chose. She just didn't
know where to go.
Rubbing her tired eyes, she contemplated her options. As much as she didn't want
to admit it, Cassidy was right. This city would get more dangerous for her now that
Adrian Prince had taken over The Club. She stared at her meager surroundings. She
didn't really have much that she'd want to take with her.
Clothing, some pictures and a
few personal effects.
Anything she'd had of value had been sold long ago to pay for her
mother's treatment and finally her burial. But it was done and Blythe was free of
obligation to anyone but herself.
She was tired, she realized as she closed her eyes and rested her head against the
soft back of the chair. Tired of always having to be the one in charge, the one everyone
else depended on. Her mother had been a fragile woman for as long as Blythe could
remember. Even as a child, she'd been the one to take care of the rent and bills, cooking
and cleaning. Her mother had managed to hold down a job as a waitress, but as soon as
she'd gotten sick, everything had fallen to Blythe.
Not that she'd minded. She'd loved her mother. And she was no stranger to hard
work. She'd had her first job by the time she was twelve, babysitting other kids and
walking neighbors' dogs. She'd always made her own money to keep herself clothed
and in school. At twenty-five, she had her entire life ahead of her and didn't know what
she wanted to do.
Something to think about, she mused as she opened her eyes. And if she was
leaving town, she needed to pack. Dragging herself out of her comfortable chair, she
walked to the armoire and dug out two large tote bags. She didn't own a suitcase, but a
couple of these should do the trick.
Dumping them both on the futon, she went back to the armoire for the first load of
clothing. Someone knocked hard on her door, the loud thump making her jump. She
scowled in its direction. For a woman who never had company, her apartment was
certainly a popular place tonight. "Who is it?" she called, but no one answered. It was
probably only Sam Cassidy again.
She moved cautiously toward the door. It was probably just Cassidy again, but she
couldn't be certain. Biting her lower lip, she debated the wisdom of calling out. Not for
the first time, she wished her cheap landlord had installed a peephole in the door.
Silence.
A loud crack filled the air as her door was hit hard. The doorframe split, but the
locks held. It was hit again.
This time harder.
It wasn't Sam Cassidy outside her door
and Blythe wasn't about to stick around to find out who it was.
Grabbing her purse, she hurried toward the window, not even sparing a glance for
her clothing. Clothing could be replaced--her life couldn't. She did pause long enough
to grab a tattered journal and stuff it in her bag.
The wooden door groaned as it was hit again. The locks still held, but the hinges
didn't. The door was shoved inward and a huge man in a three-piece suit stepped into
the room. She didn't recognize him, but she knew the type. This man was an enforcer
and it wasn't too far a mental stretch to know who he worked for.
Digging her fingers into the wood, she shoved the window up and threw one leg
over the sill. The man practically dove across the room, grabbing her leg and yanking
her back in. She hit the floor hard, knocking the wind out of her body. The man pulled
her to her feet, his fingers digging into her upper arm. She knew she'd have a massive
bruise there, but she ignored the pain. She had bigger problems than that. The man and
his buddy, who'd joined him in the room, both had handguns and they looked more
than capable of using them.
"Going somewhere?" the first man asked. He was big, with a shock of short gray
hair and a pug nose.
She shrugged, trying to appear calm, which wasn't easy with these two big men
surrounding her. "I wasn't expecting company."
"I don't think she likes us, Tom." The younger man glared at her as the older man
continued. "Our boss wants to talk to you."
"Who's your boss?"
The older man backhanded her, letting go of her arm at the last second so she went
flying again. She landed on the coffee table and bounced to the floor, striking her elbow,
hip and head.
This time it was Tom who grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. "You know Mr.
Prince, don't you, sweet thing?"
Blythe nodded.
"Heard he was dead."
Tom shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Not
him
--Adrian Prince."
"Never met him." Blythe had no idea why she was baiting these men, but she
couldn't stop herself. Tired of being a victim for so long, she was fighting back. This
time there was only
herself
to worry about and if they were going to kill her, she'd just
as soon they do it quick. In the meantime, if she could make them angry, they might
make a mistake. That is, if they didn't kill her first.
The older man shook his head as he strolled over and caught her chin between his
thumb and forefinger. "You'll meet him tonight." He released his grip on her face and
let his hand slide over her collarbone. She swallowed hard, trying desperately not to
give in to the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. His large hand covered her
breast, squeezing tight.
Blythe brought her knee up hard and fast even as she lifted her other leg, making
herself
a deadweight
. The older man doubled over and Tom lost his grip on her. Blythe
tried to scramble away. The door was only a few feet away. She could make it.
She got one foot on the floor and was pushing herself upright when a hand caught
her back leg and yanked. She landed flat on the floor. Blood spurted from her nose.
A sound almost like a cough reached her ears. Another one quickly followed. The
hand on her leg loosened enough for her to kick it away. She crawled quickly toward
the door, but it was blocked.
Her gaze flew upward, colliding with another massive man. This one she
recognized. Big and blond, he filled the doorway, a gun with a silencer attached to the
end of the barrel held firm in his hand. Unlike the other men, he wasn't wearing a suit,
but boots, faded blue jeans and a crisp, white shirt. His blue eyes were like ice as he
glanced down at her, making her shiver. Sam Cassidy had returned and she'd never
been so glad to see a man in her life.
"Blythe, come here." He kept his eyes trained on the other side of the room. She
glanced over her shoulder and shivered. The older man was lying on the floor, while
Tom was standing with his hands upright. No one had yelled, she suddenly realized,
even though it was obvious Cassidy had shot one of her attackers. That's because they
were all professionals, she suddenly realized. Oh God, who was Sam Cassidy, really?
Tom was poised for action and Blythe knew she wasn't safe yet. At this moment,
Cassidy was definitely the lesser of the two evils. She pushed herself upright, careful to
stay out of Cassidy's line of fire. She wasn't sure how he planned to get them out of this
situation, short of shooting the other man. The neighbors must have heard something
by now. Surely it was only a matter of time until the police arrived.
But the night sounds drifting in through the window carried only the cry of a
distant siren. She could hear someone yelling down the street, but that was all. The air
in the room seemed to thicken and a man stepped out from the shadows. Dressed all in
black, he radiated a menace that permeated the entire room.
Blythe gasped and flattened herself against the wall as he approached her. She'd
thought the other men were large, but this man was beyond big. He was huge. But it
was more than his size. There was something about him that was deadly. His long black
hair was pulled back over his wide shoulders. His face was all angles and planes, but it
was his eyes that were the most frightening. Green as emeralds, they glittered with the
promise of retribution.
She shivered as he sauntered toward her. She tried not to flinch away when his
hand reached out to her, but she couldn't help herself. His finger was gentle as it traced
the bruise on her cheek. A white handkerchief was pressed into her hand as he stepped
back and offered her a slight bow. "My name is Stefan
Dalakis
and I am sorry for the
problems that helping my family has