Hero Unmasked: 3 (Heroes of Saturn) (16 page)

The laughter welling through Kristos started slowly, then built like a fuse on a bottle rocket before shooting into the air with a loud crack. His knees buckled and he braced his hands on the floor as he continued to howl.

Let him laugh, Dhavin thought as he lay on the floor, huffing for breath like a fish out of water. There was a story about Kristos that involved Brett, a pair of handcuffs and a chain that sapped their strength. Odds were his cousin would find himself in a similar situation again. Oh, how Dhavin wanted to be the one to bail him out then.

He turned his head as he heard Kristos speak.

“Lucian.” He had his phone to his ear. “You won’t believe what I just heard.”

The peal of laughter that vibrated out of the phone after Kristos retold recent events had Dhavin gritting his teeth. Now his humiliation was complete. Who knew Lucian had the ability to laugh so hard?

“He’s on his way here.” Kristos pocketed the phone. “He said he wants to be here in person.”

Dhavin raised his fist and made a gesture that told Kristos whose ass he could go screw.

“You must really be in love with this girl if you allowed her to come at your manhood with a blade.” He held out his hand and helped Dhavin rise to his feet.

“I do.” He flopped back onto the couch and closed his eyes. “I hurt her feelings. Understandably she’s upset, but it will pass. This is but a small hiccup in our relationship. I am not giving up on her yet.”

“Good. I hope you know that we, and I do mean all of us, are rooting for you. If you need us, call.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Got any more of those beers in the kitchen?”

“Nope. Not a one.”

“Right. I’ll help myself.” He turned to leave the room and paused with a knock on the wall. When Dhavin met his gaze he asked, “Given the opportunity, would you let her do it again?”

There was no question what “it” was. The memory of Fiona, naked and flushed, kneeling between his legs with her pink lips stretched over his throbbing cock replaced the fire in his groin with a heat of a different sort.

Kristos chuckled. “I’ll take that smile to mean you would.”

In a heartbeat.

* * * * *

Five o’clock was the latest he allowed himself to stay away from Fiona. He didn’t want to think of the upcoming encounter as a confrontation, but he was ready to fight for their future. If a knock-down drag-out match was what it took, then the gloves were off.

He stopped by the shop first to see if she was steeping herself in work to avoid him. The store was dark and closed up tight, so he made his way to her home. The little house was just as black inside as the store had been. There was the possibility she decided to hide out at her aunt’s house, but something about the stillness in the air made his arms tingle and his brain jolt with a rush of adrenaline. As he rushed up the driveway he saw the front door stood slightly ajar. The lock was broken and a muddy footprint was stamped on the blonde wood.

Silence filled the house, the sinister weight clung to him like cobwebs as he crept from room to room. His didn’t sense anyone in the house, but that didn’t mean a malicious visitor wasn’t waiting to attack.

The sight in the living room made his muscles tense and his hands clench, ready to smash skulls. An armchair lay on its side and all the knickknacks from the mantel were scattered across the floor, mingling with shards of a broken lamp and pieces of firewood. A search of the rest of the house found nothing amiss, which made his hearts race faster as he realized this wasn’t a burglary.

He pulled out his cell phone to call Brett and froze when he saw a white envelope on the dining table, propped up against a crystal vase holding a blood-red rose. Scrawled across the parchment in an elegant hand was one word.
Chameleon.

His chest felt as if it were filling with concrete, weighing him down in a quick-drying dread, and his hand trembled as he reached for the envelope and withdrew the thick notecard from inside.

Dear Chameleon,

Darling Fiona requests you join her at the old Millstone building in the city. This is an intimate affair, so only your presence is required. She is waiting patiently for your arrival, but I must say I am enjoying her company tremendously. In fact, the longer you dally, the better acquainted she and I become. I heard her sweets are quite delicious and I’m feeling the need for a nibble.

I look forward to our meeting,

S

Dhavin crushed the paper in his grip. This was his worst nightmare. Hell, it was everyone who wore the mantle of the Chameleon’s worst nightmare. As a police officer it was expected you hunt and detain criminals as part of the job. Threats were often made toward those on the force and their families, but there was a solidarity in the department. But as the Chameleon, he was on his own. Any fallout from his actions landed squarely on his shoulders. And this time it grabbed Fiona in its spiteful grip, using her to punish him for his contributions to the community.

Gods, he had been so stupid. Why did he think his alter ego had no effect on his personal life? He should have taken more care to protect his privacy and his woman. Actually, he should have done a lot of things, but now his priority was getting his woman back.

He punched the number on his cell phone as he ran back toward town. “Kristos. Where are you?”

“I’m home. What’s wrong?”

“Is Lucian with you?”

“Ya.”

“Good. I need your help. Fiona’s been kidnapped.”

Where had she gone wrong? Fiona didn’t consider herself a greedy person. She only had a few wishes in life. A successful business, good health, close friends and maybe a man to share it all with.

Well, two out of four wasn’t bad. Having a successful business left little time for friends, but Mags and Aunt Bridget were true.

The man to share it all with… Ha!

Fiona sighed and hung her head. She flexed her fingers, attempting to work out the cramp in her hands caused by the bindings strapping her wrists to the arms of the old wooden office chair.

Was it good fortune or a curse to have the man of your dreams be a manipulative alien with superpowers and had enemies who did not hesitate to use you in their plans for retaliation?

Yep, every girl’s fantasy.

How many hours had passed since that punk kid she had seen in her shop and two other men burst through her front door? Who were they and what did they want from her? Besides the obvious. One was not made to don a skimpy silk slip for shits and giggles. The only thing that had stopped Trevor from copping more than a feel while he stripped off her clothing was a reminder from one of the goons that Mr. Smithwick had ordered she be dressed in the clothing of his choosing and presented to him untouched.

Who this Smithwick was, she hadn’t a clue, but the Chameleon’s name was whispered in the car as they drove her to God only knew where. She had been blindfolded, unable to track where they had traveled, and the office she waited in could have been any old brick-and-mortar building.

The room’s furnishings were worn, and appeared mid-twentieth century, but the heavy drapes that covered the windows where she was held were brand new. The interior wall was half plaster and half glass, overseeing the maze of empty desks that comprised the rest of the floor. The layout reminded her of the Daily Planet in the Superman movie.

One man, armed with a rifle, stood guard at the elevator while another blocked the door to the stairway. The goons who took her and Trevor the punk took up space near the worn mahogany desk. Even if she managed to free her hands and make a run for it, that was a lot of muscle to power through. Depending on the next few minutes, it might be a risk worth taking.

“Why so sad, beautiful lady?”

The question brought her focus around and her fingers dug into the arms of the chair.

A shudder that had nothing to do with the drafty room shook her until her teeth chattered. In her relatively young life she had witnessed meanness, bitchiness and an occasional moment of cruelty, but never had she encountered someone who oozed such ruthlessness as the man who glided into the room.

Though he was slight of build and almost frail-looking in stature, he had a snakelike aura that made her stomach pitch with impending doom, and the way the other, much larger, men straightened to attention added to her terror. His suit was impeccable and his strides were just as smooth as the top of his shiny bald head. Malicious amusement sparkled in his dark eyes but otherwise his tan face was a blank slate, which reminded her of the scene from
Silence of the Lambs
when Clarice Starling met Hannibal Lecter for the first time, only Fiona didn’t have the protection of prison bars between her and the deadly gentleman circling her chair like a cobra toying with its prey.

He lifted his hand and slowly reached out to trace the curve of her cheek with the tip of his well-manicured finger. The slight pressure against the bruise made her flinch. “Who touched my property?”

Trevor was shoved to the forefront by one of the guards. “Skeeter did, Mr. Smithwick.”

“I was just trying to contain her, Mr. Smithwick, sir.” Trevor shook and wrung his hands together. “I promise.”

“Hmm.”

Although the sigh was soft, the contemplative hum evoked the promise of hours of groveling and beatings. Poor schmuck. Fiona winced, partly glad the little shit was going to be reprimanded but at the same time sorry for whatever awaited him in the future. Bet the kid wished he hadn’t groped her now.

Smithwick returned his attention to her. “Are you otherwise unharmed?”

“Mentally or physically?” The words croaked out of her dry throat. “Why am I here?”

“You and I have a mutual acquaintance. The Chameleon. I’ve been wanting to meet with him, but he’s rather elusive. You will ensure our introduction.” His accent was just as unnerving as his stare. There was a musical lilt that clipped each word at the end like a cleaver hacking through bone. It gave her no indication of his emotions, which had her tensing in preparation for him to strike at the slightest provocation.

“The Chameleon?” She forced a laugh and prayed he’d buy her bluff. “Right. I’ve seen him a few times, but I don’t know him.”

His eyes narrowed. “Be careful with what you say, Ms. Corrione. Mr. Skeeter said he saw you together in your shop and at your home. What was the phrase he used? Ah, yes, balls-deep I believe it was.”

Heat engulfed her face. Even her earlobes felt as if they were on fire.

It wasn’t her actions she was ashamed of, rather the knowledge some pervert had peeped in her windows and leered at her jiggly parts that had bile churning in her stomach. Dear God, how mortifying.

“Oh. Him.” She focused on saying every word strong and steady enough to sell the lie. “Well, we were going out, but we broke up. He’s a liar and a sleazeball and I never want to see him again.”

Well, it wasn’t all a lie.

“I see evidence that belies your words, Ms. Corrione.” His unnerving finger dipped lower and traced the lacy border of the slip across the slope of her breast then pulled down the cloth to expose a rosy nipple fringed with red nip marks left by Dhavin’s teeth. “Unless you’ve taken another lover so soon.”

One of the other kidnappers spoke up. “She has hand-shaped bruises on her ass too, boss. I think she likes it rough.”

Fiona pushed against the back of the chair to try to gain some distance from the probing digit. “Stop touching me.”

He scooped up her tender flesh in his palm and squeezed the mound tight in his grasp until she cried out. “You do not give me orders. You are mine to do with as I please, when I please.” The pressure loosened and he rubbed his hand over the tip as he took a step back. “Make no mistake, I will have you. But not tonight. When I fuck you, you will not bear the mark of another man.”

Gee. How encouraging.

Fiona pressed her lips together and fought against the tears making her vision blur. This was ridiculous. Women like her do not find themselves in such incredible situations. Hysteria seized her brain and made her feet bounce with adrenaline as she fought to remain calm and in control.

“Please let me go,” she pleaded. “I’m telling you the truth. What the Chameleon and I had was just a fling. He’s not going to come for me.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll still have a use for you. Either way, I win.”

“This is crazy. I mean nothing to him. I’m a nobody.”

“No, my dear. I believe you are the heart of my greatest enemy. That makes you my most valuable possession.”

Dear Lord, if Dhavin has any love for me, please let him find me and get me to safety. Then grant me the strength to kick his ass for dragging me into this mess.

The knock at the office window brought her head up with a startled gasp. At Smithwick’s command, the door opened and a guard leaned in far enough to announce, “The jeweler’s here.”

Smithwick smiled. “Let him in.”

Fiona didn’t know who to expect to walk through the door with such an innocuous name, but fear closed up her throat and her teeth chattered together. The man who entered the room was dressed in black slacks, Doc Martens and a black cotton long-sleeved shirt. His blond hair was clipped short and the glacial stare made her think the nickname Iceman was better suited. Whoever he was, he was definitely not going to be an ally in helping her escape.

The silver metal briefcase in his beefy hand held her attention like a pregnancy test taken after a one-night stand. Whatever was inside, she did not want to know.

She flinched when the latches clicked open like twin gunfire. Nestled in the foam interior was a strip of metal cases joined together to form a thin belt. The man fitted the strap around her neck like a collar. An electric charge buzzed under her ear and her terror increased tenfold.

A fob passed from the jeweler to Smithwick, who attached the device to a chain he then placed around his neck.

“Do you know what you’re wearing?” He smiled and her gaze remained glued to his thumb circling the red button.

Fear held her tongue. She couldn’t form a word if a gun were pointed to her head, and she feared that was exactly the case.

“Insurance, my darling,” Smithwick answered for her. “If you stray more than one hundred feet from this fob…” He pressed the device and white-hot lightning wrapped around her throat, stealing her vision.

Smoked filled her nostrils and her jaw locked as the excruciating pain burst through her skull. The agony lasted mere seconds, but her teeth continued to ache after the power was disrupted.

Tears poured down her cheeks, wetting the silk covering her chest and soaking the fabric until it was transparent. Fear paralyzed her, making it difficult to do more than wheeze and shake like a tiny mouse before a horrifying lion. Any pretense to maintain the appearance of control was obliterated, gone like light sucked into a black hole.

This scenario was wrong, all horribly wrong. Torture did not exist in her world and her mind was ill equipped to withstand such violence. Maybe if she were a strong, macho solider like Dhavin, she’d be able to spit in Smithwick’s eye and dare him to do his worst.

But she wasn’t strong, and she wasn’t macho.

She was terrified and wanted to go home.

“Ah.” The delighted smile in his voice choked her as effectively as the necklace. “I see you understand. Now, now, don’t cry. As long as you behave, no harm will come to you. But keep in mind, do not attempt to remove my gift. If you separate the links without this key, the collar will detonate.”

Her eyes snapped opened. Detonate?

As if he could read her silent scream he answered, “Yes. Detonate. You may or may not survive the blast, but I can guarantee you won’t be as pretty.”

Her lips trembled and more tears fell. She felt conscious thought drift away but she found the will to whisper, “Why?”

Smithwick slithered closer and wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “I told you, sweet. To defeat your enemy, you must rip out his heart.” His hand moved from her hair to her cheek, his fingertips swirled in the wetness. “Stop these tears. I have a meal prepared for us and I want you to enjoy it. Come.”

The bonds around her wrists were released, yet she didn’t feel the change in pressure. Fog invaded her body and mind in a dense cushion, leaving her numb to the world and the surreal environment of her new prison. Nothing existed. Not Smithwick. Not the bomb around her neck, nor thoughts of Dhavin to give her comfort or hope. Nothing.

Not even herself.

* * * * *

“You are sure you trust these men?” Dhavin asked Brett as they approached one of the city police’s safe houses located a mile from the Millstone building. “I’d rather we
Llanos
handle this ourselves.”

“Yes, I trust them. And there is no way in hell I’m letting you or anyone, including my husband, walk into another’s jurisdiction and take the law into their own hands. Don’t think that just because you’re family I wouldn’t lock your ass behind bars if you don’t follow orders.”

“This is my fight, Brett. I don’t want anyone else to come to harm.”

“You’re wrong. When it comes to crime, the fight belongs to all of us who wear a badge.” She lifted her hand to knock on the door then paused to nail him with a suspicious eye. “You tell me right now if I have to worry about you killing our suspect.”

“Smithwick is more than a suspect.”

She silenced him with a harsh hiss between her teeth and jabbed her finger in his face. “I will send you back to Cedar right now. Promise me you will not kill anyone.”

Dhavin could not, in good conscience, make such a promise. His woman was in danger and the anger and guilt boiling inside him wanted to explode and level the building floor by floor until he had Fiona safe in his arms and Smithwick buried under the rubble. Only his lack of knowledge about the city and his family’s interference contained the rage calling him to action.

Deep in the recesses of his mind he knew Brett was right, and he fought to hang on to that thread of sanity. While he’d be justified in killing Smithwick, it wasn’t justice. Bale was a prime example of what happened to a man driven by vengeance and the outcome was a sad existence. Fiona needed a man at her side, not in jail. Somehow he was going to have to dig deep and drink from the well of patience. Gods have mercy on those who try to test his restraint.

“Are we leaving?” Brett asked.

He pushed past the lump in his throat to answer. “I can only promise I will try. Fiona’s safety is my priority. I will not kill anyone unless we are attacked first. That’s the best I can offer.”

She nodded then turned to the door and rapped a double beat. “We all want her back safe, D, but we need to do it the right way. Just know we have your back.”