Invidious Betrayal (13 page)

Sal flinched, finally dragging his attention from Jasper to look at the floor submissively. His face had turned beet-red, sweat popping out over his brow. “No, no...uh I, I thought that talking in front of the secretary was a bad idea.”

No one in their right mind wanted Jasper’s attention. The man was tall, had large rippling muscles, a bad attitude, and was contracted by governments to kill in any way he saw fit as long as it wasn’t traced back to them.

Sal looked up to face Vincent, trying to control what seemed like his rising fear due to just a few seconds of dealing with Jasper. He lifted his shoulders and tried to give off an air of confidence but Vincent knew better. “Look, I hired the whore just like you said. How was I to know the kid would take a liking to her?”

“Do you expect me to believe that my nephew’s interest in a whore is what caused you to lose control of the situation?” Vincent reached for his drink and took a long swig before placing the glass back down and focusing on Sal. His eyes narrowed. “Let me tell you what I believe. I believe you went to Madame Elle’s to pay for the whore I requested. I believe that you being a regular of Elle’s found out that your ‘prized piece of ass’—your words not mine—was destined to be our fall girl. You gave her the heads up and you both put your mediocre brains together and chose a different victim.

Vincent crossed his legs as he continued. “Now what I can’t figure is what this girl did to you or your piece to warrant your actions. What I’ve found out is that this girl you chose wasn’t a whore at all. In fact, based on my information, she was young, pretty, and evidence shows she was as virginal as the virgin mother. And you and your men defiled and abused her. I also know that you used a trial drug from one of my laboratories to not only subdue her, but you also injected my nephew.” With a grimace, Vincent slammed his hand on his desk so hard that Sal jumped in his seat. “My nephew Sal, my blood!”

“Mr. Howl, I swear to you that I can fix this,” Sal began, “Ian’s fine. I’ll find and return him. The girl is as good as dead. No harm, no foul.” Sal even managed a smile as he shrugged his shoulders and spread his arms, palms up.

Vincent gave Carlos a subtle nod. Without a word, Carlos took a knife from inside his jacket and slammed it down into Sal’s right shoulder. Sal cried out, then yelped a curse as Carlos jerked his chair back and he hit the floor. Carlos placed his foot over Sal’s left shoulder to secure him to the floor so he couldn’t move.

Vincent stood and walked around to the other side of his desk to sit on the edge where he and Sal could see each other clearly. “You see, I’m the fool here Sal, not you. I should have waited for Jasper to get back in town to set my plan in motion.
Or at least I should have
cancelled that damn meeting and attended my nephew’s party to make sure this was handled properly. But I rushed things, and now I’m paying dearly for it. Sometimes, patience is the key.”

With a grim smile, Vincent continued, “My nephew is now suspicious of me, and has dropped completely off my radar with a girl who I bet has a family that is probably sick to death with worry. Do you know how that feels, Sal? To worry about someone that you had a hand in creating, a child that your blood flows through? Do you have any family, Sal?”

Sal, beet red and sweating profusely, grunted when Carlos dug his foot into his shoulder. It was clear that he hadn’t planned on answering. “No sir, I was an orphan,” he managed to snarl.

Vincent stood and walked back around his desk to sit in his chair. “Good, then no one will miss you.”

Sal cried out “Wait!” just as Carlos produced another knife and buried it in Sal’s chest, killing him instantly.

“We haven’t had any luck finding the whore Sal conspired with sir,” Carlos said, as he ushered two other men inside to get rid of Sal’s body. “The information Madame Elle had on Lace—that’s the whore’s stage name—led us to a shithole apartment on the lower west side. There was nothing inside that could identify her or the girl with Ian.”

“How original, a whore with secrets,” Jasper said, but didn’t look up from his cell phone.

Vincent took a therapeutic deep breath. Carlos had found out from Madame Elle that Sal and this Lace had been spending a lot of time together. For them to think they could get over on him was ridiculous. Unbeknownst to Sal, Vincent had hidden cameras placed in most of the rooms in his home, which was why he’d had the party there. Added insurance was always helpful in blackmail situations.

He’d been in Virginia when he logged into the video feed and played the footage. Vincent was unable to see the girl’s face due to the blindfold, but he did see the blood from her torn hymen and heard everything. He saw Ian trying to help her and was enraged when he saw that Sal had injected Ian with one of his experimental drugs, immediately recognizing the labeling and colors of the custom vials.

But what was more disturbing to Vincent was watching some of the brutal treatment she’d endured. Then to top it off that idiot Sal had divulged the entire plan in the girl’s presence. He’d seen plenty of evidence of Sal’s incompetence and brutality before he became disgusted enough to turn the video off. He shouldn’t have killed the bastard so quickly. It was a shame that the girl had to go through what she did, and now she would have to be permanently silenced for what she knew. The only justice in this entire situation was that those other bastards that had violated her would suffer just as much, if not more, than she had, before they died.

“If this Lace shows her face anywhere, we will get her sir,” Carlos said, as he wiped his knives with a handkerchief.

Lace popping up was virtually his only link to finding Ian, especially since Ian ditched that car, his cell phone, and the microchip that had been implanted under his armpit when he was only six years old. “Damn it,” Vincent hissed.

How could I have been so stupid as to trust this project to anyone other than Jasper
?

He’d rushed because Victor’s absence was and still is the most opportune time to implement his plan. According to the plan, by the time Victor, who was Vincent’s twin and Ian’s father, returned to the states the whore’s body would have been discovered by the authorities.

But Vincent would have assured that the DNA evidence was held-up indefinitely during processing. No one would make a fuss over one dead whore, and the evidence to put Ian away for the murder would have been in Vincent’s hands. Only now, even with all his meticulous planning, Vincent wasn’t sure how things were going to play out, given Sal’s fuck up.

He desperately needed Victor’s influence in the Senate, because the science Vincent dabbled in was taboo and illegal. Victor wanted nothing to do with it, nor did the rest of his cohorts. Vincent knew that if he could win Victor over, he was home free. Victor was a good 'ol boy. Vincent’s twin had charisma, he was well-spoken, and was generally a good guy. Some had even pegged his brother as the next Kennedy, the new Camelot. Vincent, on the other hand, was forthright, impersonal, and had a dislike for ass-kissers, so he had never been a people person, let alone a politician.

Vincent picked up a pen and jotted down the names of Sal’s men—the rapists, on a piece of paper and handed it to Carlos. “Take care of this trash and make it painful. I want them to suffer before the end, and to know why.”

Carlos nodded as he silently read the names, then handed back the paper before taking his leave.

“You really fucked this one up, Vin.” Jasper chuckled. He reclined back on the sofa and turned the wall TV on, tuning in to the sports channel. “Since you’re on a losing streak, you want to bet on this game?”

I’m going to have to really rethink my ‘not surrounding myself with ass-kissers’ policy
. Vincent threw his heavy, round, metal paperweight at Jasper’s head. “Fuck off, Jas. And get your funky-ass feet off my table.” Jasper caught the paperweight without even looking and placed it on the coffee table while Vincent lit a match and burned the paper with the names. “What do you think about Carlos?” he asked.

Jasper shrugged. “He could be the best I’ve ever trained.”

“The best, huh,” Vincent said mockingly.

“He’s fast, strong, and doesn’t get weighed down with the issues of right and wrong.” Jasper shrugged again. “Like I said, he
could
be the best.”

Vincent heard the underlying statement in Jasper’s comment. Thing was, it wasn’t going to happen. They would never know because Ian was off limits. “Good to know.”

Aria stumbled into a grassy field wearing what once was a beautiful, long flowing white gown that was now ripped and stained. Her hair draped over her shoulders and down her arms in a tangled mess. The shoes she’d had on her feet were long gone. Her soles and knees were covered with dirt and blood from running and stumbling. Strangely, she felt no pain, just the desire to run as fast as she could. Maybe it was because her fear was overwhelming her senses.

An inhuman howl shattered the silence around Aria, marring the soft glow of the setting sun. Something fast moved to the side of her as she dodged the tall trees. The huge wolves were closing in, and the muscles in her legs burned from being pushed beyond their limit.

One of the abnormally large beasts nipped at her heels, causing her to fall forward and roll into a large tree. The pack took no time in circling her as she pressed her back against the rough trunk. Jagged bark dug into her soft skin. Dried leaves and broken branches crunched under her feet as she tried to kick back and away from her fast approaching death. The lead wolf lowered its head and growled, showing black cruel lips and razor sharp teeth.

She tried to cry out for help but her scream was caught in her throat. Aria held her hands out, fingers apart, and her nails at the ready. She knew there wasn’t much she could do to the beasts, but she wasn’t going to die without a fight. One lunged forward. Aria closed her eyes and tensed, but she never felt its hot breath on her face or its teeth cutting into her skin. She did hear a loud yelp, so she slowly peeled her eyes open.

“Ian,” she breathed. His name was a prayer on her lips.

He stood in front of her dressed in nothing but a pair of linen pants that tied at his waist. His sculpted back was to her, so she wasn’t able to see his face, but then he tilted his head and she could see his profile. He looked like a furious vision of beauty. The wolf that had jumped at her was laid out a few feet away, its large form unmoving, its head twisted at an odd angle.

Aria watched as Ian defeated three more wolves before the rest were on the run. When he focused on her, she tried to say something, but he moved too fast, pulling her into his arms. With her chest still heaving and sufficient oxygen still eluding her, he put his lips to hers. To her horror, she actually moaned with satisfaction. Aria was so swept up in the taste of him and the solid body holding her that the loud ungodly ringing hardly even registered in her brain.

Ignoring the constant tone, she wrapped her arms around Ian’s shoulders to stroke his close cut hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled her nearer, and all she wanted was to melt into him. But his hands gradually fell away. As he began to back away from her, Aria reached for Ian, begging him not to leave her alone, but he wasn’t listening.

And that damn ringing was driving her crazy.

Tearing her eyes open, Aria grunted as she slammed her hand down on the alarm until it stopped blaring. She threw her arm over her eyes and took several cleansing breaths. It was a dream. They haunted her every night since she’d gotten home nineteen days ago. At first, the dreams were just Ian saving her from whatever big bad thing that was after her. He never touched her in those dreams. A little over a week ago, her nightmares began to morph into something more. The terrifying parts remained and Ian was always there to save her, but now he touched her, kissed her, and she kissed him back.

Slowly, Aria sat up in her bed and rubbed a hand over her face.
Why can’t I keep Ian out of my head
? Why couldn’t she keep him out of her dreams? What was it about him that she couldn’t let go?

“You awake?” Her mother tapped on her bedroom door twice.

Aria groaned. “Yeah, I’m up.” She scooted off the bed and went into her bathroom. Stripping her night clothes off, she turned on the shower and jumped in, not caring that the water wasn’t yet warm. When she was done, she combed her damp hair into a loose ponytail and threw on something that lay on her floor.

“Dragging this fine Saturday morning, Ree?” her father asked. He didn’t move his morning paper which rested on her side of the table until she sat across from him. “And what on earth are you wearing?”

Aria’s mother shot her a reassuring smile as she placed a plate of toast and scrambled eggs in front of her. “Leave her alone, Gavin. Every woman deserves a glamour-free week.” She poured Aria some juice in a glass and placed it near her hand. “It’s that time of the month, right, baby?”

“Yeah, 'cause she hasn’t been looking like a stoner for a while now.” Her father turned from her mother and gazed at Aria suspiciously, his brows coming together. “What exactly did you get into while you were in the big city, Ree?” he asked, tilting his head.