Dark Sins and Desert Sands (8 page)

She didn’t have time to wonder how she knew this. She just threw it into the nearest trash can and hurried toward her car. She’d parked on the lowest deck, in the basement, away from the crowds. It was quiet enough for her to hear someone murmur into a crackling radio. It was probably just parking garage security, she told herself, but some instinct made her look before she took another step. Crouching low on the stairs, she peered between the metal railings down into the garage and saw the blinking blue lights of the security camera. Beyond that, two men wearing dark suits and sunglasses watched her car.

They were the same men that had been following her the night Dr. Jaffe died.

She hadn’t believed Rayhan Stavrakis when he told her that she was being followed, but now she did.
What’s more, she knew that these were Mr. Carey’s men. Men who worked for Scorpion Group. The knowledge made the small hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end.

She’d leave her car behind. The only thing that mattered was escaping. She had to get out of this parking garage, out of this city, maybe even out of this country. And she had to do it today. Right now. Rising, Layla slowly backed her way up the stairs. She dared not breathe when she heard a heavier footfall behind her. Just two floors to go and she’d be back at street level. Layla increased her pace, her hand skidding along the metal railing. The footsteps behind her picked up pace, too, and Layla’s heel caught in the stairs, sending her to her knees. She yelped with pain as her hands hit the concrete, skin scraping as a pair of hands grasped her around the waist.

“I’ve got her!” the man shouted.

What happened next was nothing Layla could explain. With a violent economy of motion, she slammed her head back sharply into her attacker’s face and heard his nose break with a sickening crunch. He let out a startled cry and held his nose as red blood spurted between his fingers. Then she shoved him back and delivered a roundhouse kick that sent him tumbling down the stairs.

Layla hovered there, momentarily stunned. How had she known how to do that? Did she know martial arts? There wasn’t time to figure it out, because another of Seth Carey’s men was right behind him. This one leaped over his partner to get at her.

Desperate to find something—anything—to defend herself, Layla saw a fire extinguisher inside a glass
case. Without a conscious thought, she smashed both fists into the glass case and pulled it out. She swung the cannister at her pursuer, nailing him in the forehead and making him stumble.

“Crazy bitch!”

He was after her again, but not before Layla whispered,
“I’m too heavy to carry, too light to put down, a stain on your soul, a thorn in your crown.”

At hearing the riddle, he crumpled as if she’d hit him. He just lay there, moaning.

Why did she say that? And why did it give her such satisfaction to see him fall? The uncharacteristic savagery swept away her fear, and mixed with an unbidden desire to tear him from limb to limb. It was a primal instinct, something that wasn’t like her at all—but then, how well did she really know herself? She heard more footsteps coming and turned, still desperate to get away.

Instead of climbing another flight of stairs, she burst out the door on the mezzanine level. The air exploded out of her lungs as she slammed the metal door open against the wall of the parking garage. She must look ridiculous, red-faced and panting, her hands bleeding from the cut glass. But that couldn’t be helped now as she threaded her way between cars. She was disoriented. Lost in a maze of shadows and automobiles.

The sleeve of her blouse snagged on the door handle of a truck and tore, but she didn’t let it stop her. The footsteps behind her were louder now, thundering. She could hear her pursuer panting, hear his unintelligible curse. She ducked behind a large SUV and tried to catch her breath. The industrial lights overhead illuminated a shadow on the far wall. She’d thought a
man was chasing her, but the shadow of a horned shape emerged in darkness like an animal come to devour her.

She heard a low growl. She smelled the musk of it mingled with the other base and earthy scents here. She could even smell her own fear, as much a lure for a predator as the blood that dripped down her wrist. She spun, frantic to find an exit. That’s when he caught her, wrenching a terrified scream from her throat that he silenced by pressing his mouth against hers.

She wasn’t expecting it. Not the way he swallowed her scream, crushing the terror beneath the fervor of his lips. Not the masculine way he tasted. Not the heat of his breath on her face, churning from his nostrils as if he couldn’t decide whether to kill her or kiss her or both. She clawed at him, her nails extending into the flesh of his forearms as if
she
were the predator, not he. She smelled his blood, heard his flesh tear, and still he kept kissing her. Her thoughts spun away and she tried to latch onto one solid thing to steady her, but the primal desire that flowed from his kiss crowded everything else out.

That kiss became the heated core of her, layers of civility melting away. He seemed to sense the exact moment when she surrendered to it, and deepened the kiss, his tongue capturing her own. She knew, even without opening her eyes, that it was Rayhan Stavrakis. And kissing him was a revelation. A thing of discovery. It was as if she’d never been kissed before, and maybe she hadn’t been. Not like this. Not with the promise and pain that tugged between her body and his.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as she thrashed in his grip.

“Yes, you will,” she choked out. “You killed Dr. Jaffe last night!”

“I didn’t kill anyone last night, and you know it,” he said, his outrage at the accusation too sincere to be feigned. “Who are you running from?”

“You!”
she said, still clawing at him blindly, deluged with a flood of memories, flashes of her past that flowed over her. It was as if his kiss had opened the floodgates, and it would take all her strength to close them again.

“You’re lying,” he said shaking her. “Who are you running from?”

“Seth,” she said with a sudden, heart-stopping clarity. “And if you knew better, you’d run from him, too.”

With fingers like bone and a kiss like ice, it grabs
hold of strong men and turns them to mice.

R
ay knew what people sounded like when they were overcome with terror and on the edge of breaking. He’d heard that same terror in his own voice when he was being tortured and in spite of everything she’d done to him, hearing Layla’s terror made him feel protective. If this Seth guy was after her, if he was going to hurt her, Ray would put a bullet between his eyes. “Where is he?”

“He’s not…he’s not here. But he’s coming for me and he’s coming for you, too,” Layla said, her nails still digging painfully into his arms.

“Stop it,” he said, grabbing her by the wrists. She’d already raked him so badly he was bleeding. Or they
both were. He’d worry about that later. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She closed her eyes against him, which made controlling her that much more difficult.

“You’d rather that I left you behind to face this Seth guy?”

He felt Layla flail and then she said, “No. I’ll go with you.”

“Dude,” Missy said, leaning against the passenger door of the beat-up old junker he’d bought with stolen cash. “What happened to you? You’re bleeding like crazy!”

Ray herded Layla forward. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car, Missy?”

“You also told me to follow her,” Missy said. “So I figured you’d want me to keep an eye on things. There are cops, or rent-a-cops, or some kind of enforcement crawling all over the parking garage across the street!”

“You sent a young girl to spy on me?” Layla asked, trying to wrench out of his grip.

“Look,” Ray told her, catching Layla’s green eyes and grabbing hold of her mind. “I don’t need to touch you to make you do what I want to, Doc. Now get in the car.” But as he flung the passenger door open with every intention of shoving her inside, he couldn’t even stop Layla from clawing at him again. “Easy there, Kitty Kat. Haven’t you already left me with enough scars?”

It seemed to shame Layla, and all the fight went out of her. “But you’re not listening to me. If Seth sees you
with me, he’ll kill you… Besides, the authorities are looking for you.”

“Really? This is my shocked face,” Ray said, dead-pan, pushing her legs into the passenger seat.

That’s when she started in on the kid. “Are you really that kind of girl? You’re going to let him kidnap me?”

To Ray’s surprise, Missy burst into tears. “He’s just a freak. He won’t hurt you. He just needs to ask you some questions.”

“Leave her alone, Layla,” Ray snapped. “She’s trying to help me get a little justice, a concept you’re not all that familiar with.”

But he didn’t want Missy any more involved in this than she already was. He took a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it to her. “You did good, Jailbait. I’ve got it from here.”

Missy caught the money in one hand, but her attention was on Layla. “Don’t be scared. He won’t hurt you. Will you, Ray?”

Ray sighed. Nobody ever used to think that he was the type to hurt people. Sure, he carried a gun, but he was an interpreter. People looked to him for help. Now even Missy seemed to think he was a brute. He slammed the door, trapping Layla inside the car, and was about to launch into a tirade in answer to Missy’s question when he saw her smeared makeup and tearstained face. Layla’s questions seem to have really upset her and it wasn’t a simple case of teenaged moodiness. “Hey, Missy, are you okay?”

“I’m not the kind of girl that she thinks I am. I’m not a bad person.”

Damn it
. He didn’t have time for drama. “I know
that. Listen, you’ve really helped me out. You’re a good kid. Thanks for everything.”

“Sure,” she said, sniffling and pulling up one of her exposed bra straps.

He didn’t like leaving her upset like this, but it was for her sake as much as his that he didn’t want her involved. “Be good,” he said, then got in the car.

“You’re just going to leave your girlfriend behind?” Layla asked as Ray turned the ignition.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Ray growled, pulling out of the parking spot. “She’s a hooker.”

Sarcasm curled over Layla’s lips as she said one single, condemning word. “Nice.”

He felt himself flush. “I’m not a client, but it’s nice to know you’re jealous.”

Layla shot him a look—one that was decidedly not calm, cool, or collected. He was starting to see sides of her he didn’t know existed, and he was kind of looking forward to a snippy denial, some witty banter. But she didn’t say anything. She was too scared. He could see it in the tightness around her eyes.

“So who is Seth?” Ray asked while he drove, though he suspected that he knew. Odds were good that the guy she was running from was the same guy who had buried her memories in sand. “Why has he got you so spooked?”

“He’s very dangerous,” Layla said, her voice hollow. “He’s jealous, and petty, and cruel. I think I must have been married to him.”

That wasn’t the answer Ray was expecting. He almost choked on it. He’d suspected that whoever ruined her memory had been someone more like him—someone else she’d interrogated and turned into
a monster. The possibility of an abusive ex-husband hadn’t crossed his mind and the shock of it forced him to say, “
Married?
You
think
you were married to him?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know anything. I just know that he’ll kill you if he finds you with me. Or worse.”

“Is that supposed to scare me off? Lady, I did four tours of duty and escaped two years of torture. I’ve had people trying to kill me or worse for my entire adult life.”

“Fine,” she said. “Then just drive. Please, just get me as far away from here as you can.”

Seth thought that if war gods could have vices, pride would have been his. He’d been so sure that Layla’s memories were safely buried that he hadn’t expected her to run. The betraying little slut
should
have been begging for his help. Instead, she’d disappeared.

He stormed back into Layla’s office, ready to interrogate her assistant within an inch of her life. “When is Dr. Bahset’s next appointment?”

Isabel rose up tall from behind her desk, imperious, as if she had a right to meet his eyes as an equal and only now, face-to-face, did he appreciate her truly Amazonian stature. “Why don’t you leave her alone?”

Seth felt the corner of his lip furl at her impudence but remembered that he was here in mortal guise. “We’re just trying to protect her, ma’am.”

“No, I know who you are…” Isabel said.
“¡Bastardo!”

Now this was interesting
. At Seth’s sudden focus of concentration, the candles in the room flickered out, leaving only the harsher overhead office light to
illuminate her face, and yet, she was beyond beautiful. He’d suspected she was an immortal. Now he was sure of it. “
Do
you know who I am?”

“I’ve sensed you for a while now,” Isabel said, pointing at the flower vase on the low table. “But I only suspected. Now I see that my lilies have died. Mortal things wilt in your presence, so I’m sure.”

Her acknowledgment of his nature gave him pleasure. It made his eyelids lower, in the manner of a lazy crocodile. Seth was the dread god of Egyptians, a civilization older than most on earth. Everything in creation should fear him and venerate him, so when Isabel did neither, he warned, “I think that if you really knew who I was, you’d flinch away from me.”

“I said
mortal
things wilt in your presence.” Isabel smiled coyly. “But I’m not a mortal thing.” As she said this, the bracelet on her wrist became a swarm of red butterflies. The candles flickered with new flame and the lilies came to life again.

It was a pretty but petty display. He could kill all her butterflies and flowers with a glance, but he was too busy contemplating the meaning of this. She wanted to show him that she still had powers. Perhaps not many—perhaps only decorative in nature—but she did have them. To the unspoken question in his eyes, she replied, “I’m
Xochiquetzal
.”

This was entirely unexpected. Seth knew her only by name. In fact, the young goddess was born of a civilization much newer than his own, but he still felt an instant kinship with her. She didn’t have his age, or Layla’s wisdom, but she had a vitality that was infectious even to a deity of his stature. And now he
wanted to know more. “An Aztec goddess, yet you speak Spanish?”

“And you speak English. What of it?” she asked. “We all adapt. Besides, my real name is a mouthful for
foreigners
. So you may call me Isabel.”

He didn’t smile, even though she’d so cleverly alluded to his identity—Seth the destroyer, the other, the
foreigner
. She was too brash to reveal herself to him like this, too sure of her frivolous charms. He shouldn’t encourage her. “I’ll call you what you are. A harlot. A goddess of prostitutes… No wonder you were drawn to Layla.”

His sharp rebuke didn’t even give her pause. “Yes, I’m a patroness of all those girls who work on the street. But not only them and that’s not why I was drawn to Layla.”

“She’s
my
minion,” Seth said harshly. “You can’t have her. Content yourself with birds and butterflies.”

“Why should you care who Layla belongs to now? You cast her away. Two years now, she’s been foundering in this desert by herself, struggling to embrace her own sexuality.
That’s
why I was drawn to her.”

“And now you want to make her into a painted trollop like you?”

Isabel tilted her head. “Again, why you should care? There are other creatures in the world to add to your stable.”

Yes, there were others. War forged some men into monsters—literally—and Seth was eager to add them to his menagerie and exploit their supernatural abilities. But Layla wasn’t war-forged. She was war-
born
. More importantly… “She’s mine!”

“I pity the wretches that belong to you,” Isabel said.
“You took a strong, womanly creature and you buried all her emotions and covered her in a shroud of forgetfulness. Now you won’t even leave her in peace. She doesn’t even know who she is. She doesn’t know
what
she is.”

“And she never will,” Seth snapped. “I’m taking her away from you and the mortal men she debases herself with. It’s for their benefit as well as hers. She could ask the wrong question and drive yet another man to take his life.”

Isabel’s eyes went soft, and he felt himself momentarily pulled into them. They were like chocolate and cinnamon, vibrant and rich. Too earthy and fertile for his tastes, so why didn’t he look away? “You’re not worried about saving lives,” Isabel said quietly.

He didn’t have to explain himself. Certainly not to a washed-up Mexican goddess. Yet, he found himself asking, “Aren’t I, though? A new minotaur has been unleashed. With his mental powers, he’s already destroyed several mortals, and in his desire to take revenge, he may kill a few more.”

“A
minotaur,
” she repeated slowly. “There hasn’t been one of those in a very long time.”

“He’ll come for Layla and when he does, I’ll capture him and bind him to me.”

“So you intend to use Layla as bait?”

Seth didn’t deny it. “If you dare to interfere…” He didn’t have to voice the threat. All the old immortals abided by rules of divine etiquette that circumscribed their behavior. Layla had been his minion long before
Xochiquetzal
was born. Layla
belonged
to him, and no other god could take her away unless he released her. Which he had not, and would not.

Seth brushed past Isabel and reached for the door when vibrant green vines suddenly wound about his wrist, buds blossoming into giant orange flowers. She was actually trying to keep him here! She
dared?
He turned on her in a rage, and blustered, “Trifle with me and I’ll bury this whole city in sand.”

“I just want you to answer one question,” Isabel said. “What did Layla do to deserve such punishment?”

“She defied me,” he said, the memory of it still a burning hole of anger in his heart. “All for the sake of a mortal man.”

“Why didn’t you smite her where she stood?”

Seth withered the vines on his arm and threw them to the ground, a heap of dried husk. “Because she’s all but immortal. Besides, death doesn’t frighten her. There’s only one thing that would kill her, and it’s the one thing she wanted most.”

Isabel understood immediately. “The one thing you can’t give her.”

She reached out for his cheek. His skin wicked away the moisture on her fingertips and Seth considered biting her with his savage teeth. It made him angry to be comforted by her. To be pitied by her. “Unhand me, you filthy whore.”

She smiled sadly and withdrew her touch. “As you wish, Scorpion King.”

Nothing was as Seth wished it. Nothing had been as he wished it to be for a very long time.

But when he captured Layla and the minotaur, that would all change.