Warrior Betrayed: The Sons of the Zodiac 3 (25 page)

Montana fought down a wave of nausea as his eyes filled with an odd, manic glee at the taunt.

Don’t show a reaction. Don’t show a reaction. Don’t show…

The cot tilted wildly as Arturo grabbed her by the forearm and dragged her to her feet. Montana stumbled forward, off balance from the stiffness that still suffused her body.

“They were cowards, you know. Jackson sniveled for his life, the little loser.”

Montana stood to her full height and looked him in the eye. She couldn’t change what had happened, but she could defend Jackson’s memory. “No, he didn’t. I saw it. Every bit of it. He was smart enough to get you on the house video cameras. You and your bull.”

Arturo’s dark gaze went wide at her words and Montana felt a momentary shot of victory until he shoved her away. The ground rushed up to meet her and she landed in an awkward heap on her left side.

Staring up at him, she felt her newfound strength pumping through her veins. Strength and an absolute certainty that she would find a way out of this.

She was a rising immortal and she was a woman in love. And she’d be damned if she was going to give it all up without a fight.

Quinn would find her. And in the meantime, it was time to do a little damage to Arturo Veron.

“You think you’re so clever. Well, you’re not. You’re a fucking waste of skin and my mother was right to leave you. To get away from you.”

“You dare speak of the whore?”

Montana shifted, struggling to a sitting position. There was no way she’d lie at his feet like some defeated opponent. Arturo was nearly on her—his fist lifted in threat—when a loud clapping noise rose up from across the room.

“Nice try, asshole. You beat up women, too? Well, doesn’t that just add to your list of desirable qualities?”

Montana’s gaze never left Arturo’s, but she saw a look of fear skitter across his features before he turned toward the open door.

“This doesn’t involve you. I told you to meet me at the boat.”

The taller of the two stepped forward. She was long and lean, and clothed in a Chanel suit Montana recognized from this year’s collection. “Actually, it does involve me.”

Who were these women?

Montana couldn’t help but stare at them as they moved across the room. Both looked like models…with murder on their minds.

There was no doubt they were sisters, but where the one in Chanel had a sexy, worldly vibe, the other one, clad head to toe in leather, looked like a serious ass kicker.

The woman in Chanel moved forward, her gaze speculative as it roamed over Arturo’s body. She laid one long finger against the black T-shirt he now wore, her bloodred fingernail pressed against his heart. “You’ve been especially naughty, Arturo. Normally, that’s a trait I admire in my men, but you’ve lied to me, and, oh yeah”—the woman moved up into his personal space—“you’ve stolen my Destroyers for your own use. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Enyo. We had a deal. We made it just this morning.”

“Oh, I have no problem keeping my end of the bargain. You know as well as the next person I have no love for Themis’s boys. But if you think you’re running the show, guess again. We head to the
Dreamtime
when I say we do.”

At that, a needle-sharp prick of awareness speared through her. The
Dreamtime
? The Grant yacht? That’s where they were taking her?

Arturo’s voice wavered between anger and clear touches of madness. “You bitch! This is mine. I’ve waited too long to have my revenge and you don’t get a say in it.”

“Actually, I do.” Before Arturo could reply, a long stream of blue fire lit up the air around them. Montana stood still as visible sparks shot from the woman’s fingertip into Arturo’s chest.

The man’s body jerked from what had to be a jolt of electricity that would kill a human. Montana watched in increasing horror as Enyo kept up the current, slowly driving the asshole to his knees.

Although her curiosity ran high to understand what was happening, Montana knew she needed to get out of there.

Whatever was going on, she didn’t want any part of.

And she needed to get to Quinn.

Think. See. Know.

The air around her seemed to wiggle, like the heat rising off of asphalt on a hot day.

Damn it, Montana. Focus!

Thinkseeknow. Thinkseeknow. Thinkseeknow.

The light tugs of gravity at her feet grew stronger. Drowning out her surroundings—the warehouse, the immortal fight taking place before her, the threat to her general well-being—Montana put everything she had into focusing on her port out of there.

Thinkseeknow.

The heavy pull of gravity suffused her body in thick, lapping waves and then it morphed into a fast weightlessness that set her free.

The room disappeared, but just as the image of Enyo standing over Arturo faded from view, Montana felt long, slender fingers wrap around her ankle.

Quinn mowed through the plate of lasagna Callie had pressed on him as he listened to Drake’s reconnaissance report. He knew he needed the strength the food provided, but the thick noodles and rich cheese tasted about as delectable as day-old socks.

He needed to get to Montana.

Every second away from her was agony.

And no matter how many times his brothers assured him he needed to act with as much knowledge as they could gather, it galled him to remain inactive.

Their Pisces had spent the last twenty minutes in the harbor around the
Dreamtime
, getting the lay of the land. Between his superior swim skills and the protective bubble that surrounded him whenever he was submerged in water, Drake was best suited for the job.

Add in the fact the Pisces had spent a great deal of time in the Florida Keys and knew the location of the boat dock for an immediate port in and they had the perfect person for reconnaissance.

“What do you have?” Quinn barked the question as soon as Drake materialized in the kitchen, still dripping onto the floor. “Does he have Montana there?”

“I didn’t see Montana and I didn’t hear anything to suggest Arturo was onboard. I did defuse the explosives he’s got rigged under the boat, but I couldn’t get on the ship. There are a horde of Destroyers walking the decks and no doubt a shitload of security cameras to boot.”

“And the hostages?” Quinn barked the order.

“All accounted for. I already gave your lead man in the Keys a heads-up and the team’s going after them now.”

“Does Arturo actually think we’re just going to appear onboard?” Rogan snorted as he took the last bite on his own plate.

“We don’t have a choice and he knows it.” Quinn slammed his empty plate on the table. “How are we going in?”

“There’s a string of warehouses along the docks. It’s the same place he’s had the hostages and they’re being cleared out now so we don’t have to risk any collateral damage. I’ll port a few of you there so you have visuals, then everybody comes back with a buddy. We’ll head in from there.”

The time for planning was over. They had secured their weapons and everyone had eaten as much food as Callie could put in front of them. “Let’s go.”

“Quinn. I’m ready to leave when you are.” Eirene’s quiet voice penetrated the tense atmosphere from across the room. Indecision still warred within him. Quinn respected the woman’s desire to be a part of the rescue effort, but he didn’t want to take her into the battle and he didn’t want her slowing them down. They’d already lost precious hours as it was.

She’d fallen asleep a short while ago and he’d hoped they’d be able to depart unnoticed.

“Eirene—”

“Young man, I am not having this discussion with you again.” The thin sound of her voice strengthened with each word, her determination unmistakable. “I know I’m weak and I know I’m a liability. Leave me behind there if you need to get Montana out, but you are taking me with you.”

Brody and Kane hid twin guffaws behind heavy coughs and the rest of the room suddenly found other things to do as Eirene continued her castigations. “This is it for me, Quinn. Arturo has set this all up because of me and I’m going to see it through.”

He nodded. He wasn’t going to win this argument and, in a rare moment of remorse, he had to acknowledge it wasn’t fair of him to try to leave her behind. “Of course, goddess.”

Eirene walked across the room, her gaze clearer than he’d seen it all day. Whether it was a burst of strength or simply determination and renewed purpose, Quinn didn’t know.

As she reached his side, she laid a hand on his forearm. “Let’s go kick Arturo Veron’s slimy ass.”

A round of shouts went up around the kitchen. Quinn lifted Eirene in his arms and moved to stand next to Drake. The shouts echoed in his ears as the three of them ported from the brownstone.

“What the hell?” Montana kicked her legs, but the tight grip on her ankle wouldn’t lessen. “Get off me!”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Who are you?”

“You don’t need to know who I am or anything else.”

“Yeah. That’s a comforting answer.” Montana gathered herself and then shook her leg, finally dislodging her ankle from the woman’s hands.

The sister—the shit kicker, as Montana had come to think of her—had grabbed her ankle just as she ported out of the warehouse.

With a quick look around to ensure she was where she had intended, Montana saw the comforting lines of a hard teak countertop in the yacht’s library-slash-bar.

Backing away, Montana knew she couldn’t outrun the woman, nor could she go head-to-head in any sort of immortal battle, so her best bet was to forage for food and increase her strength. With slow movements, Montana inched her way toward the bar, casually flicking her eyes at the dish of bar nuts that sat perpetually full on top.

Thank God for regular cleaning service and the yacht’s active role in entertaining clients. She’d been here only a few weeks prior and things were still in good order.

And food was out on the counter.

Arm extended, Montana reached for a handful of nuts, idly tossing a few in her mouth in a casual gesture. “Who are you? And was that woman Enyo?”

“You don’t need to know anything.”

“Actually, I think I do. Especially seeing as how you all look at me with the barely repressed urge to kill me. I at least have a right to know who I’m dealing with.”

Shit Kicker shrugged her shoulders and took a seat on the couch. Although her pose looked casual, Montana had no doubt the woman could move faster than a cobra.

And she looked about as mean to boot.

“I’m Eris. And yes, that woman giving Arturo a good ass kicking is my sister, Enyo.”

Montana made a big production of waving a hand, even as she reached for another handful of nuts. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m a bit rusty on my Greek mythology. I know she’s the goddess of war, but that makes you who?”

“The goddess of strife and discord is my official title.”

“And your unofficial title?”
Miserable bitch
crossed Montana’s mind, but she kept the jibe to herself.

“Eris works just fine.”

Montana saw her hesitation for the briefest of moments—really, if she hadn’t been concentrating so hard, she wouldn’t have even noticed it. But there was something in the gray depths of the woman’s gaze that Montana recognized.

Feelings of inadequacy and discontent with life had a way of doing that to a person. Although Montana couldn’t ignore the fact the woman who stood before her personified those traits, she acknowledged those two feelings seemed to have fully disappeared from her own life.

Because of Quinn
, a small voice whispered in her ear. Even the thought of his name filled her with joy and she knew it was true. Quinn Tanner had showed her what she was missing and forced her to look at her life—and herself—in a completely different way.

So what was up with Eris?

“Let me guess. You hate your job and you’re sick of being stuck in middle management. The boss doesn’t appreciate you and you haven’t had a date in a year.”

Okay, maybe she needed to dial it back a bit. Riling this woman up was not the way to make things easier on herself.

So why was it working?

A small smile ghosted Eris’s lips and the look was oddly transformative. She was almost…pretty?

“You’ve got style, heiress. I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you. I think.” Montana grabbed another handful of nuts, even choking down the walnuts she hated in hopes of getting as much fuel in as possible. “So really. How’d you get involved in all this? I’ve heard your sister’s name but not yours. How’d this become your problem?”

“I’ve been bored and I needed something to do. Enyo mentioned the Warriors and I got interested.”

“Lucky me. And why do the Warriors interest you?”

“No reason in particular.”

Montana heard the lie from a million miles away, but decided to hold on to that line of questioning. “So what does Enyo want with me?”

Eris leaned toward her, several long locks of hair falling forward. The woman really was pretty. If she’d ease up on the dominatrix look, she might actually be
really
pretty. “Look. Enyo couldn’t give a shit about you other than the fact that screwing with you pisses off Themis. She wants the Warriors. But she also wants to fuck that little shit Arturo over. You’re just caught in the middle.”

“And you and Enyo want to help us?”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

As answers went, it wasn’t a comforting response, but it was something.

If she could only get out of there and warn Quinn and the others. If they could regroup and find a way to have this battle on their terms instead of whatever Arturo had already orchestrated, the situation might not seem so bleak.

Might not
feel
so stacked against them.

Did she have enough energy to port again? Montana tossed a quick glance at the bar nuts and realized she’d polished off about half of them.

Was that enough protein to boost her strength? Enough to complete another port?

She’d managed the trip here, but that whole shimmering thing at the beginning wasn’t very helpful. And it was probably the reason Eris had known she was about to escape.

Before Montana could finish weighing the pros and cons, another thought tripped past the others. What if Quinn was already on the boat? She couldn’t leave him here to fend for himself.

And she had no doubt Arturo had already given her Warrior the address for the final showdown. If there was anything she knew from Arturo’s scheming, it was that this had been building for far longer than any of them knew and the ex-Warrior was ready to close the deal.

Montana avoided looking at the nuts again, even as she prayed the fuel had done its job. With sharp focus, she remembered Ilsa and Ava’s instructions and…

Didn’t even attempt to move as Eris slammed her hand forward, gripping Montana’s wrist.

“Look, heiress. You might have a poker face in business, but I’ve seen you eyeing the door and scarfing those nuts for the last five minutes. You’re not getting out of here, so you may as well sit down for a while. Besides, Arturo planted a horde of Destroyers up on the decks. I know my sister has a fondness for them, but they creep the shit out of me, so I, for one, would rather stay here until your cavalry arrives.”

Montana could only stare and wonder why the lack of poker face comment was so insulting. She had a damn good poker face.

Black Jack Grant had made sure of it.

So put it to your advantage, Grant.

If she couldn’t get herself above deck, maybe it was time to do a little digging of her own. This woman had secrets. She’d bet her life on it.

Eris continued, obviously unaware of the poker face insult as she dragged Montana over to the couch. “This little showdown’s been a long time in the making, so sit back and relax. Your boyfriend will be here before you know it.”

“Why are you bored? Nothing at home keeping you busy?”

Eris shrugged, but her stare went a hard, gunmetal gray.

Direct hit.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I mean, it must be hard. Humans seem to have no problem doing strife and discord all by themselves these days. Not much for a girl to do in that situation.”

And then Montana went in for the kill.

“You have a husband? Kids?” It was the question she hated above all others, so she projected every single ounce of pity into it as she could.

Eris’s back was stiff against the couch cushions. “I’m not married.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. Boyfriend?”

“No.”

Ooh, this just got better and better. “Shame. But it must be hard in your line of work. Hard to find time to date. Or a man who’s willing to put up with your professional life.”

“I do okay.”

“Oh sure. Sure.” Montana pushed even more sympathy into her tone. “Is the dating scene on Mount Olympus decent?”

“What do you care?” Eris squirmed on the couch, but her grip never wavered. “You’re seeing one of the Warriors, aren’t you? Quinn? That’s what Arturo said.”

“What does he know? The Taurus has been my shadow, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested.” The lies tripped off her tongue and even as she knew why she said them, Montana couldn’t help but feel the words burn.

She loved Quinn. Loved him with everything she was and everything she would ever be.

And she might never see him again.

Even if the lies saved her, the words hurt.

“Besides, they’re all some serious eye candy. I can’t believe they’ve been around so long and so few of them have been snatched up. It’s a travesty, actually.”

“They are fine-looking men,” Eris admitted.

Finally! Montana nearly pumped her fist in excitement. Something other than ass kicking lay under the surface with this one. “Which one is your favorite?”

“No one in particular.”

“If you say so.” Before Montana could say anything else, the entire boat rocked as if they’d hit a huge swell. Eris dropped her wrist as both of them were thrown to opposite edges of the couch.

Since she knew they were docked in port, that could only mean the cavalry had well and truly arrived.

Quinn.

Screams erupted above deck and Montana stared at the ceiling of the room, hope slamming through her in lockstep with abject fear for Quinn.

Unable to bear another moment wondering about him, Montana launched herself into a port. She knew this boat better than anyone on it. It was time to put the knowledge to good use.

As the rush of air took her, she heard a long string of curses from across the room.

Quinn slammed his elbow into the windpipe of the closest Destroyer and tried to assess the space in the center of the deck. Although the yacht was large, there was a literal horde of Destroyers on deck.

Where the fuck was Montana?

Quinn swung his arm, sword fully extended, toward the shoulder of his current opponent. Although it wasn’t a death blow, it should damn well slow his fire. The guy had lasered a series of fireballs at Quinn’s chest and he was now gritting his teeth through the pain and the heat. It was about fucking time the asshole got a little something-something in return.