Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) (29 page)

Slider hung on
to
every word Creed said.  He was piecing together all that he had gathered from life at the Facility with what he was being told and had to admit there was a lot of truth to what this guy was saying. 

“What’s your take on this?” Slider nudged the barrel of his gun into the back of Gavil’s head.

“Me?  Hell, I'm just here for the free drinks,” he growled.

Slider wasn’t in the mood.  He cocked his gun and said, “Don’t screw around with me, Gavil.  I know how much you hate your brother.  You can’t fake years of beatings.  Why are you taking his side now?”

Gavil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I hate the golden boy.  Always have.  But this time we have the same enemy.  Williams is number one on my hit list, and my reasons for that are my own.  We take out Williams, then we all go our separate ways.  Let pretty- boy over there have the white picket fence and house in the ‘burbs with snot-nosed mutant meta kids.  I don’t give a shit.  All I want is Williams’ head on a
damn
stick.”

Slider hesitated for a moment before stepping off Gavil’s back and lowering the gun to his side.  “I’ve seen some seriously
messed
up shit at the Facility myself.  I just want my freedom.  If I went AWOL, Williams would hunt me down.  I know that.  Yeah, I have reasons of my own to want his ass dead.” Slider grimaced slightly.

“I know you know this is a serious decision.  Once made, there’s no turning back.  If you betray us, I’ll make it my life’s work to hunt you down and kill you.  Clear?”  Creed’s blue eyes crackled with a blaze of fire as he felt an overwhelming wave of protectiveness for the people in the next room.  He had no memories of them other than the dreams of the dark-eyed beauty, but somehow he knew he would lay down his life for them.   He was walking on faith now.

Gavil stood his full height, dusted off his fatigues and rolled his shoulders working out the tension there from being held to the floor with a bullet trained to the back of his head for the last ten minutes.  

Creed watched Slider’s face for signs of treachery, but only saw a look of resolve.  The three soldiers, who had been sent to kill the Winter clan, stood in a loose triangle.  Creed held his hand out to Slider who regarded it with thought before slipping his weapon into its holster, freeing his right hand, and reaching out to meet Creed in the middle.  They clasped hands and shook on their agreement. 

“I’m not looking for a family, but we have the same goal.  I’m in.”  Slider cocked his head thoughtfully before adding, “You have my word on it.”

Creed nodded, respecting the soldier’s stance.

“Great.  Glad we got that settled.”  Gavil reached down and picked up the nearest weapons, securing them in the holster at his waist.

Creed turned and walked back to the people in the other room, desperate to see the girl.  The two metasoldiers followed.

She was laying on her back next to the two other metahumans—her brothers.  She wore black running shorts and a black T-shirt.  He had the impulse to reach out to touch her skin, but didn’t.  Somehow, touching her when she was unconscious seemed very wrong.  Instead, he crouched beside her and studied her face.  She was absolutely beautiful in her sleep.  Her suntanned skin was perfectly smooth.  Her lips were shaped like a bow, plump and soft.  He wondered if he ever kissed those lips and frowned as he tried to remember.  How could he forget kissing this angel? 

“We’re going to have to contact Williams soon.  He’s expecting us to check in,” Gavil’s voice interrupted Creed’s thoughts.   

Creed nodded, not removing his eyes from the girl.  “Yeah, we need to buy some time.  The female here may wake soon.  The males will need at least another thirty minutes before they wake.  The humans are going to need more time.”

“You know he’s going to want to hear from you,” Gavil prompted after another moment of silence.

Creed stood abruptly, ripping his eyes away from the girl of his dreams and pulled his cell phone from one of the many pockets in his fatigues.  He punched one number, and the speed dial handled the rest.

“Yes?”

“Sir, Creed Young checking in.”

“Mr. Young, tell me you have good news for me.”

“The ranch is secure; we caught them completely off guard and suffered no casualties ourselves during the siege.  All three metahumas have been tranqued.  Margo Winter is dead.”

The wicked scientist was actually giggling.  Creed wanted to reach through the phone and choke the life out of the bloody monster.

“Excellent, Mr. Young.  Please put your brother on the phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Creed held the phone out to Gavil who took it with a grimace.  His voice gave nothing away.  “Gavil here, sir.”

“Gavil, my boy!  Is everything Creed said, true?  Have you captured the three metahumans?  Is the woman dead?”

“Yes, sir.  We’re working on loading the metahumans into vehicles for transport.”

“Wonderful!  You have truly proven yourself, Gavil.”

“Just following orders, sir.”

“Yes, of course.  Call me once you’re airborne to check in.  Put Creed back on the line.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gavil handed the phone back to Creed.  “Creed here, sir.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

His words felt like a punch to the throat.  He had been trying not to stare at Meg and felt caught in the act.

“Sir?”

“Oh, come now, my boy.  We’re both men.  A beautiful woman is a thing to behold.  And Meg is especially precious because of her gifts.  She is my masterpiece, my magnum opus.  I imagine her children would be just as exceptional, but no one can compare to the original M57.  Treat her with care, Creed.  Bring her home to me, and I will reward you well.  I may even allow you to have your way with her so we could create the next generation with fresh DNA strands.  What do you think of that, my boy?  Wouldn’t it be lovely to have that creature forced into submission?”

Creed’s face had been turning deeper and deeper red as he listened to the vile filth spewing from the scientist’s mouth.  He wanted to rip the blackened heart from the man’s chest with his bare hands.  But right now, the monster was waiting for a response.  He couldn’t.  He just couldn’t open his mouth for a moment because his jaw was locked in rage.  How dare he sully the act of loving this
angel?
 

Creed swallowed hard. 

“Sir, we’ll contact you once we’re airborne.”

“Yes, yes…so much planning to do.  So little time!  Goodbye, son.”

The line went dead.  Creed resisted the urge to smash the phone like tinfoil in his hand.

“What the hell was that about?” Gavil and Slider had been busy collecting dead meta bodies, stripping them of their weapons and dragging them into a pile by the back door.

Creed shook his head, heart pounding in his ears as he relayed Williams’ conversation.

Gavil just stared at his little brother with narrow, hate-filled eyes.  “He’s one sick bastard.”

Slider’s eyes slowly widened and darkened.  “You guys haven’t told me the half of it, have you?  There’s a lot of sick shit going on with Williams, isn’t there?”

“I’m worried even
we
don’t know the half of it, but the more I learn, the more sure I am he needs to stop walking this Earth with the rest of us.  He belongs in hell.”  Creed reached down and carefully slipped his strong arms under the girl, lifting her easily and walked her to the sofa to lay her there.  He couldn’t stand seeing her lay like an animal on the ground…especially not after what Williams just said. 

He grabbed the throw draped over the back of the sofa and carefully covered the girl’s body, now feeling self-conscious for
looking
at her long bare legs and bare midriff peeking out from the cropped Lycra running shirt she wore.  Everything about her was precious to Creed, and he needed to help her maintain that purity especially as she was so defenseless right now. He would never let anyone hurt her again.

The three got back to work cleaning up the ranch.  All fourteen bodies of the dead soldiers were gathered.  Creed was worried about how the family would react to the pile of bodies, so he asked his brother to take care of them.

“What do you suggest I do with them?” he asked after they loaded the last body.  They had stacked them inside two vans. 

“When we were driving, there was construction going on at the south side of
Dallas
.  It looked as if they were pouring a cement foundation for a new structure.  Do you remember the area I’m talking about?  We talked about the traffic it was causing with all the construction vehicles.”

Gavil was nodding as he thought back to a few hours
ago
.  “That could work perfectly.  Good idea, brother.”  He slapped Creed on the back before calling over to Slider.  “Yo, Slide.  You ready?”

Slider sauntered to the brothers and nodded.  “We got a plan for them?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Gavil climbed into the driver’s seat of the nearest van.  “Just follow me and be careful.  Getting pulled over by the cops could add a lot of unnecessary excitement to our day.”

Slider smirked before sprinting back to the other van and starting the engine.

“Gavil, you’re going to have to be real discreet at the site.  Can you do that?”

“Dude, are you asking me if I can be a sneaky son of a bitch?” he shook his head laughing.  “Good luck with them when they wake up.  If I come back and they have you hog-tied, it could make the next part of our plan a little difficult.”

Creed nodded.  “Yeah, this is going to be tricky, but it would be trick
ier if they woke to a pile of
bodies in the back room.  Thanks for taking care of them.”

“You can thank me when I get back.  Dude, if something happens, I need to say something to…”

“We can talk more when you get back.”  Creed interrupted.

Gavil breathed deeply and glanced again at the brother he’d felt so much anger toward for so many years.  “Right, later.”

He put the car into drive and pulled away from the ranch house, Slider following closely behind.  Creed watched the two white vans bounce down the gravel drive for a moment before turning back toward the house and walking in.

First thing he noticed when he stepped into the living room was that Meg wasn’t on the sofa where he’d left her ten minutes before.  He scanned the room quickly noting all the others were accounted for, even the coyote.  The throw he’d placed over her was tossed to the ground.

Uh, oh. 

“Meg?” he called.  “Meg, where are you?”

Her head was pounding, but Meg forced herself to open her eyes.  She looked around and realized she was on the sofa in the living room, but had no memory of how she got here.  Meg sat up and held her head for a moment trying to remember what happened. 

Cole and I were running together.  We started racing. 

She pinched her eyes closed trying to see through the fog on her brain that wouldn’t dissipate fast enough. 

Something happened to Cole.   He was hit. 

Oh my God!  We were under attack!

She flew off the sofa, heart racing at the flood of adrenaline and that’s when she saw her entire family laying on the floor behind the sofa.  Meg ran to
her mother
first and shook her.

Frantic, she pressed her mouth to Margo’s ear and whispered, “Mom, wake up!  Mom!”

Her body felt warm, but she had to know for sure.  She felt around carefully for a pulse in her mother’s neck.

Oh, thank God.

She darted to each of the others checking their pulses and trying to rouse someone.  Everyone was alive, but unresponsive.  She knew she must only have a matter of minutes if Williams’ metasoldiers were here.  That’s when she heard a car’s engine start in the back of the house.  Then a second engine started. 

They’re coming
back
to get us.

Meg ran to the window to peek.  Two white vans were parked in the back of the house, idling.  She couldn’t see anyone yet, but they had to be there.  Maybe they were in the lab looking for more serum. 
Maybe they were setting explosives around the house to blow us up.  Maybe they’re coming in to torture my family into submission.
  Her mind was racing with the plausible and implausible.  She heard the back door open and footsteps.  She ran toward the kitchen to find a weapon.  Meg was reaching for a knife from the butcher block when she heard a low distinctive voice call her name.  Meg froze.

Creed?   Creed did this to my family?
  Her jaw locked with a fury she could barely contain.

Slowly, she slipped the eight inch, razor-sharp knife from its sheath and held it behind her back in a white-knuckled fist before walking toward the living room on silent feet.  She peeked around the door frame and saw him.  Meg had to stifle a gasp.   Creed was alive and standing right in her living room.   He was dressed for battle—fatigues, weapons dripping off his narrow hips.  Black leather straps crossing his chest harboring more weapons.  The handles of the knives glinted sunlight into her eyes.