Anew: Book Two: Hunted (7 page)

 “This is wrong,” I say, gesturing to our exquisite
surroundings and beyond--the park, the city, the world of excess and indulgence
that presses in on me with claustrophobic intensity. “Profoundly wrong.
Something has to change. The status quo isn’t just deeply unjust, it’s also
dangerous. However fearful people may be, when their survival hangs in the
balance and even their children are threatened, I have to believe that they
will act. The only uncertainty is when and how. That and how many will die in
the process.”

A glance goes around the table. I sense a silent
understanding that eludes me. “Another time,” Edward says softly. “Another
place.” He isn’t reprimanding me, only reminding me that the setting calls for
discretion. I flush, suddenly feeling very young but knowing that he is right.

The conversation moves on to less sensitive topics. I try to
be attentive to it but my dark thoughts about the world in which I find myself
entwine with my vivid awareness of Ian. I can’t help wondering where he stands.
He possesses enormous power but if it really came down to it, which side would
he choose--the privileged elite to which he undeniably belongs or the masses of
ordinary people for whom he seems to have at least some empathy?

I can’t answer that question. The man who has taken me to
the heights of ecstasy and the depths of despair is still very much a stranger
to me. That thought leaves me subdued through the rest of supper. When the
dancing resumes, my body feels unaccountably heavy. I go through the motions as
I did before but they require far more effort. My face hurts with the strain of
smiling. I’m feeling trapped when an all-too-familiar presence suddenly
appears.

Charles Davos gives my current dance partner a chill smile
and jerks his head slightly in a gesture of dismissal. The young man--who
presumably comes from an affluent, powerful family--doesn’t hesitate. He steps
aside at once, in effect handing me over to Davos.

Before I can get over my own shock at his sudden appearance,
I am in the arms of the silver-haired, seventyish patrician who is rumored to
control the city council and a great deal more. Despite his age, he is tall and
fit, the result no doubt of every longevity enhancement that money can buy.

My instinct is to wrench myself free and walk away. But if I
do that, I’ll draw unwanted attention. Stymied, I remain as I am.

 “Forgive me,” Davos says. He looks well aware of my
predicament and amused by it. “I couldn’t bear watching you stumbling about
with yet another hapless swain. I really don’t know what ails young men these
days. They are sadly lacking in both style and substance.”

He is holding me in a perfectly proper fashion, one hand
resting lightly on my waist and the other clasping my own. His skin is cool and
dry. He smells of citrus but underneath that is a musky, oily scent that makes
me recoil. His yellow-green eyes have an almost reptilian cast. I am truly ill
at ease around Charles Davos, not in the least because he had an unhealthy
fascination with Susannah that he seems to be transferring to me.

Above all, I’m afraid he knows that I have something to
hide. He may even have an inkling of what it is.

I glance over his shoulder, looking for Ian or Edward.
Neither of them would approve of my dancing with Davos but they are both absent
from the ballroom at that moment. Perhaps it’s just as well that I handle this
myself.

“What do you want?” I ask. The question is too blunt for our
gracious surroundings but I’m past caring. I just want to be done with him.

Davos raises a brow. “You’re very direct, my dear. I can
accept that…for now. I want to do you a favor. If you’re as smart as I think
you are, you’ll be grateful.”

The thought of owing Charles Davos anything makes my skin
crawl. “I neither need nor want any favors from you.”

Unperturbed, he says, “You should be careful about your
dealings with Ian Slade.”

I stumble a step. Ian and I have attended many of the same
social events but we’ve almost never been seen together in public except as
part of a larger group. Davos can’t possibly know what happened between us at
the estate or later in the city--at the opera house, the polo club, the gallery
at Pinnacle House. All those times and places that I absolutely must not think
of right now.

 “I’m friends with Helene and Marianne Slade,” I say,
proud that my voice is rock steady. “But I’m scarcely acquainted with Ian.”

Davos smiles. “That’s very good. If I didn’t know better, I
could almost believe you. Susannah was a remarkable young woman in so many ways
but sadly that didn’t prevent her from succumbing to Slade. I would hate to see
you make the same mistake, especially under the circumstances.”

Despite myself, I rise to the bait. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Ian has always walked a very fine line where the
law is concerned. I’m sorry to say that recently he’s crossed it. He will have
to be held accountable for his actions. No one can be allowed to operate as a
power unto himself. That simply isn’t good for society.”

“Accountable to whom?” The moment I ask, I know I’ve made a
mistake. I’ve tacitly acknowledged that there is something Ian could account
for, at least if he was so inclined.

“And for what?” I add hastily. “What are you claiming that
he’s done?”

“Besides lead his private army against civilians who had not
been charged with any crime, take them prisoner, and interrogate them himself
using who-knows-what barbaric methods? Make no mistake, such actions will not
be tolerated.”

I struggle to conceal my shock. To the best of my knowledge,
only a handful of people know about Ian’s involvement in the destruction of the
HPF. How does Davos?

He draws me a little closer. “I would hate to see you caught
up in the official reaction to Slade’s disregard for the rule of law. You have
a chance for a wonderful life here but that won’t be the case if you are linked
to him.”

The anger I experienced earlier returns in force. How dare
the likes of Charles Davos claim that being associated with a man of Ian’s
courage and honor could harm anyone? He isn’t fit to wipe the mud off Ian’s
boots.

I’m about to tell him so and the consequences be damned when
my breath catches. Ian has returned to the ball room and seen us. He is
crossing the dance floor on a missile-like trajectory. Anyone who doesn’t get
out of his way is in danger of being flattened. The rage on his face makes me quake
even as I know full well that I’m not the target of it.

Ian

“G
et the fuck away
from her.”

I don’t even try to keep my voice down. All I can think of
is ripping Davos’ hands off Amelia and hurtling him against the nearest wall.
Dimly, I’m aware of the shocked looks of the couples around us. They’ve stopped
dancing and are either standing frozen in place staring or--the smarter among
them-- prudently backing away. All I really see is Amelia’s white, strained
face. She knows perfectly well that I’m revealing to anyone with eyes to see
how involved we are. I just can’t bring myself to care.

Being with Amelia, holding her, hearing her voice has me on
a kind of high that I can’t really understand and sure as hell can’t control.
Worse yet, I don’t even regret it. For a guy whose kept such a strict rein on
his emotions for years, I’m a mess. Anger, worry, arousal and a bizarre giddy
happiness are at war in me.

By forcing my hand, Davos has done me a favor in a weird
way, although he’d be enraged if he realized it. Thanks to him, I’m doing what
I’ve wanted most even as I’ve moved heaven and earth to avoid admitting it. I’m
claiming Amelia as my own and the world be damned. I’ll deal with the
consequences later.

The look that flits across Davos’ face confirms that his
stratagem in approaching Amelia has worked. Any doubts he had about the nature
of her relationship with me have been answered once and for all. If he puts
that together with the fate of the replica-hating HPF and draws the correct conclusions,
we’ll have a real problem. But at the moment, I can’t give a shit. Let the
whole world know how I feel about her. I’m not the only danger to Amelia, far
from it. If I can hold the others at bay by making it clear that she’s mine,
then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

“Just as I suspected,” Davos says with a sneer. “You haven’t
changed at all, Slade. You’re still a savage.”

Ordinarily, I’d never consider striking a seventy year-old
man but Davos is in a league all his own. He has been ever since I encountered
him at the club my father ran. Some of the men had to be drawn in slowly,
perverted step by step. Not Davos. He took to it all like the proverbial duck
to water, the sick bastard.

But he’s gotten as much from me as he’s going to get. I take
Amelia’s arm and draw her away. To my great relief, she doesn’t resist. I
wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. Yet I can’t forget how she felt in my arms
a few hours ago, the fear that consumed me when I thought she might be ill and
my relief that she isn’t. Right alongside all that is the passion she unleashes
in me, making a mockery of the self-control I’ve practiced for so long that I
was arrogant enough to think it had become second nature. Now I know better.

I should find Edward and leave her with him. Walk away and
don’t look back. But every fiber of my being rejects even the thought of that.
Without moving, I watch as Davos vacates the dance floor, oozing arrogance with
every step.

The music pauses, then begins again, a slow, languorous
melody with sultry undertones from a sax that coil through the air and settle
deep down inside me. I can feel the warmth of her body so close to mine. My
gaze drifts to the swell of her breasts, rising and falling with each breath
she takes. From the first moment I saw her, I’ve desired Amelia with an
intensity that I’ve never experienced with any other woman. Even at our most
intimate moments, when I’ve been deep inside her, pouring my life into her, my
need for her has never eased. But it has changed, becoming as much emotional as
physical in a way that frankly scares the shit out of me.

I raise my eyes and meet her gaze, seeing in it a depth of
longing that I don’t deserve but can’t resist.

Hell, with all the damage I’ve just done, what’s a little
more? “Dance with me,” I say.

She doesn’t hesitate but instead flows into my arms as
though they’re the one place where she belongs. The realization is humbling
even as it troubles me deeply. This woman is a lot of things, all of them
remarkable, but she definitely comes up short on self-preservation. I thought
that she’d accepted once and for all that I’m bad for her but now I’m wondering
if I’m wrong.

As relieved as I am that she’s got a full measure of free
will and then some, I’m not totally sold on how stubborn she can be. When she
gets that steely look in her eyes--

“Davos knows that you’re behind what happened to the HPF. He
claims that you’re going to be held to account for it.”

All I want to do is sink myself into her and-- “What’s
that?” I ask belatedly.

She shoots me a chiding glare that, heaven help me, makes my
cock twitch. But then so does everything about her.

“Davos. You. HPF. Government. Trouble.”

“Oh, right, that. Don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not?” she demands. “You did it because of me and
now--” Her voice trembles. She looks truly concerned. For me.

My throat tightens. With an effort, I say, “Amelia, Davos is
bluffing. He doesn’t know anything, at least not for certain. He’s just trying
to frighten you. The government is glad to have the HPF eliminated without
getting their own hands dirty. They’re not going to question who did it. Even
if they were inclined to do so, they’re not going to pick a fight with me.”

I’m not bragging, although it could be taken that way. The
men and the few women who run the government--really run it unlike the puppets
who front for them--don’t care about anything except their own well-being. Some
of them shelter behind the notion that what’s good for them is ultimately good
for everyone. I can only laugh at their vanity and arrogance. Others, the ones
I consider more dangerous, have an even more self-centered vision of how the
country and the world should be. Anything done to make that vision real is fine
with them. They’re a classic case of the ends justifying the means. Tangling
with me is a complication they don’t want. On the contrary, I know full well
that they still hope to co-opt me to their side.

Amelia tilts her head back and looks at me directly. “Why is
that, Ian? What reason would the government have to fear you?”

I shrug, partly because I’m uncomfortable with the question
but mainly because I don’t really know the answer. Not yet. My gut says that
the time is coming when I’ll have to make a choice. But for the moment, I duck
the issue, saying only, “The government is happy enough to use defense
companies like mine when they want to avoid public accountability. If they’re
waking up to the fact that there’s a downside to so much power being
concentrated in private hands, that’s their problem.”

“But they could still come after you,” she insists. “They’re
hardly without their own resources and they can be influenced, can’t they? By
someone like Davos, for instance. He isn’t making any secret of how much he
dislikes you.”

I choose my next words carefully, wanting to make her
understand but also wanting to put an end to the subject.

“The authorities won’t come after me just because of Davos.
It would take a whole lot more than that. I haven’t sought a direct
confrontation with them and they have every reason not to do so with me.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, I draw her closer,
inhaling her scent. The effect almost pushes me over the edge. If we weren’t in
the middle of a crowded dance floor--

Not trusting myself with that line of thought, I look around
for any distraction and stumble across the most obvious one.

“Nice diamonds,” I say.

She flushes a little and shrugs. “I don’t think anyone has
seen past them all night.”

She’s serious, which has me shaking my head if only
inwardly. Amelia is the least vain woman I’ve ever known. In a very real sense
and despite everything we’ve shared, she truly doesn’t understand the effect
she has on me.

Or on other men, yet another thought that I don’t want to
entertain just now.

We sway to the slow, sensual throb of the music. I forget
about Davos, the HPF, all of it and just concentrate on the pleasure of holding
her. I’m wondering why we didn’t do this before, back at the estate or since.
Too busy having mind-blowing sex, I guess. But there’s something to be said for
just being like this, surrounded by other people but still alone together in
our own bubble.

It doesn’t last, of course. Nothing that good ever does. Too
soon, I catch sight of Edward. We left the floor at the same time so that I
could update him on arrangements to deal with any possible threat that could
arise this evening. Davos must have been watching and seized his opportunity to
go after Amelia. I won’t repeat that mistake. The bastard’s never getting
anywhere near her again.

Edward’s talking with Marianne. No surprise there. Our
mother is standing nearby, smiling. She’s well aware of my sister’s interest in
my old pal and apparently approves. I’m not there yet but I’m getting closer.

“She cares for him, you know,” Amelia says softly. Her gaze
has followed my own but I’m looking at her now and I see the wistfulness in her
eyes. It puzzles me. Why would the sight of her brother and my sister together
spark such an expression of longing in her unless…

The answer hits me hard. Edward’s a fundamentally decent guy
with the patience to bring an innocent young woman along gently. Any “wooing” I
ever did of Amelia happened in bed…or against a wall, on a floor, anywhere that
happened to be convenient. I regret that now. She deserved better.

I’ve sent her away twice--once from the estate and the
second time supposedly out of my life altogether. Yet here we are.

Third time’s the charm? I almost laugh at the thought.
Nothing about my life has been charmed and for sure nothing about Amelia’s has
been either. Riding off into the happily-ever-after may be fine for Edward and
Marianne. If he makes a move on her that had damn well be what does happen. But
it’s not for us.

Us. I turn the word over in my mind. It hurts but I take the
pain and hold on to the idea. That feels good enough that I let it linger as
the music picks up again. Amelia and I dance on.