Dark Descendant (23 page)

but—”

“I heard you talking to Maggie,” he replied, stalking toward me, muscles bunched to

pounce, eyes practically glowing with his hatred.

It took me a minute to figure out what he was referring to. When I did, my eyes widened.

He was talking about the day I’d found Emma’s ring. I suppose he’d been eavesdropping. I’d

speculated at the time that Jamaal would jump to the worst possible conclusion if he found out,

and it looked like I was right. I backed away from his approach but forced myself not to run,

despite the dangerous intensity of his expression.

His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. “I’m
glad
Maggie didn’t tell Anderson.

Glad she left you to me.”

“I know you don’t want to believe it, but I found that ring in the pot, just like I said.”

He shook his head hard enough to rattle his beads. “The truth is your boss Konstantin

sent you to kill Emmitt, then ordered you to spy on us. You’ve been leading Anderson on, telling

him you would find his Emma, but you never had any intention of finding anyone, did you?”

Sweat dewed my skin, despite the cold. Every moment I stood here talking to Jamaal was

a moment I lost in my race against time. If only I’d thought to bring my gun.

“If it’s within my power, I swear I will find Emma,” I said. “But right now, I have to help

my sister. She’s an innocent bystander, Jamaal, whatever you might think about me. Please let

me go to her, before Alexis hurts her.”

Jamaal turned his head to the side and spat like there was a bad taste in his mouth. “Don’t

try to sell me that crock of shit! Blake is with her, so Alexis wouldn’t get within a hundred yards

of her. You think you can lie to us, kill one of our own, and I’m just going to let you run away?

True, I’d catch up with you eventually. But I’m tired of waiting for my pound of flesh.”

I wanted to scream with my overwhelming frustration. In the distance, a car engine

gunned, and headlights headed down the main driveway toward the gates. This lot was too far

away from the clubhouse for anyone there to hear me if I screamed, but maybe when the car got

close enough, I’d be able to get the driver’s attention.

I sucked air into my lungs, preparing to let loose the longest, loudest, most

blood-curdling scream in the history of the universe. Tires squealed as the car I’d spotted gunned

the engine again, hurtling forward at a speed that would do a NASCAR driver proud.

Before I managed to get any sound past my lips, Jamaal’s fist connected with my jaw.

He’d been well out of arm’s reach when I’d allowed my attention to stray to the

approaching car for that brief fraction of a second, but that moment of distraction was all he’d

needed. His punch lifted me off my feet and threw me backward. Pain exploded through my

head, my vision dancing with fireworks as my legs turned into jelly.

My back slammed into one of the parked cars, foiling my second attempt to force out a

scream as the impact knocked the air from my lungs. The scream probably wouldn’t have done

me much good anyway, I decided as I sat on my butt and tried to blink the fireworks away. The

car I’d been hoping to flag down was going so fast I expected a sonic boom to follow in its wake.

It was well past us by the time I staggered to my feet to avoid Jamaal’s next attack.

My head was swimming from that first punch, but my desperation helped me hold on to

consciousness. If I blacked out, Jamaal would be on me in a heartbeat, and I’d never make it to

Steph in time.

Something trickled over my upper lip. I brushed at it with the back of my hand. Blood.

For the moment, I was glad it was dark, or I might have gone even more lightheaded with the

sight.

Jamaal was grinning like a madman—which is pretty much what he was at that moment.

As he closed the distance between us, both his hands clenched into heavy, dangerous fists. He

swung at me again, his right fist aiming for my nose. This time, I managed to duck.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared for the follow-up from his left, which caught me right in the

gut.

Gagging, desperate for air, I collapsed to the ground once again. I retained just enough

brain power to roll, this time avoiding a vicious kick from Jamaal’s booted foot.

I pushed myself up to my hands and knees, scanning the parking lot to regain my

bearings. My car was only a few yards away. I lurched to my feet and flung myself toward the

car, but Jamaal caught me in a flying tackle before I took more than two steps.

Despite my breathlessness, I did manage a rough imitation of a scream of frustration as I

went down once again. I kicked out blindly and got lucky, hitting Jamaal in the nose by the

crunchy sound of it. He absorbed the pain with no more than a stoic grunt, but at least it

distracted him enough to let me get to my feet again.

I had closed the remaining distance between myself and my car before I realized the fatal

flaw in my plan. My evening bag, which had been draped bandolier-style across my chest while I

ran, had come off sometime during the struggle. My car keys were in that bag.

Blood continued to trickle from my nose as I turned to face Jamaal once more. His

nosebleed looked even worse than mine, but I saw no sign that it bothered him. He had drawn a

knife from somewhere—his boot, maybe?—and was brandishing it in the occasional glimmers of

moonlight that escaped the clouds.

I swallowed hard, tasting blood in the back of my throat. I hurt everywhere, from the

punches, from the barefoot run, and from scraping off skin as I rolled around on the rough asphalt. My dress was in tatters, most likely indecent. Jamaal stood between me and the evening

bag, and I was so hurt and exhausted already I didn’t know how I could hold him off a moment

longer. But I had to. Somehow.

Jamaal wasn’t going to let me go. He’d long ago closed his mind to me, decided I was a

traitor and that I was lying about Steph. Which meant that if I wanted to get into my car and

drive away, I had to take him out.

It occurred to me that I’d been handling my fight with Jamaal as if I were no more than

human. Perhaps I was shrugging off my injuries better than I might have before, not worrying

that they would cause permanent damage, but I had abilities now that I hadn’t had when I was

mortal. And maybe those abilities would help me now.

If Jamaal closed with me, I was a goner, and probably would have been even if he didn’t

have the knife. So I didn’t dare let him close.

I started darting glances left and right, quick glances that were meant to suggest to Jamaal

that I was picking out an escape route. Only I knew better than to think I could escape. I edged

around the car at my back, giving myself room to move. Then, I feinted to the left.

Jamaal had been thinking of me as little more than a puny human female himself. A

not-too-bright one at that. When I feinted, he fell for it, lunging forward on what would have

been an intercept course if I’d really been making a run for it.

Instead, I took advantage of his distraction and threw myself forward, heedless of the

pain that seared my already tender skin as I slid face-first across the asphalt. My hand closed

around the discarded shoe I’d caught sight of when I’d been pretending to look for an escape

route. I rolled over onto my back.

The feint hadn’t bought me much time. I hadn’t expected it to. Jamaal had checked his

charge and now whirled to face me.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, a part of me horrified by what I was about to do. But

it was for Steph, and it was necessary. Wincing in anticipation, I took aim and hurled the shoe at

Jamaal’s face with as much force as I could muster.

I had gambled that my throwing would be as accurate as my shooting had been. The

gamble paid off.

Not surprisingly, Jamaal didn’t immediately think of a thrown shoe as a dangerous

weapon, and he made only a halfhearted attempt to avoid it. But my supernatural aim could make

a dangerous weapon out of a lot of ordinary objects, and those heels were fashionably pointy.

The spiky, three-inch heel slammed into Jamaal’s eye and lodged there. He screamed, a

sound full of pain and rage. Even a tough guy like him wasn’t able to retain his calm after having

his eye put out. He fell, wrenching the shoe out of the bloody socket and hurling it away. His

hands clasped the wound and he bent over until his forehead almost touched the asphalt, unable

to suppress his agonized moans.

Sobbing in pain, in terror, and in horror, I limped to my evening bag to get the car key.

Jamaal was still down when I collapsed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. My stomach

wanted to take a minute to empty itself out, but I’d run out of spare minutes about ten minutes

ago, and I swallowed to keep my gorge down.

Trying not to look at Jamaal and what I had done to him, I slammed the pedal to the floor

and pulled out of the parking lot at top speed.

EIGHTEEN

My hands shook and
my teeth chattered as I drove, fear chewing a hole in my gut. How

much time had Jamaal cost me? It seemed like forever, but my sense of time was completely out

of whack.

My entire body throbbed from the beating I’d taken, and my stomach was still attempting

to stage a rebellion. I’d fully intended to take out Jamaal’s eye when I threw that shoe at him, but

even in my fear for Steph, I couldn’t help shuddering at the memory.

“He’s
Liberi
, Nikki,” I told myself, clenching my teeth, hoping that would make them

stop chattering. “He’ll heal.”

At least, I hoped he would. For all I knew, the wound would heal and leave an empty

socket. My gorge rose, and I swallowed fiercely. I’d done what I had to do. Besides, who knew

what Jamaal would have done to me if I’d given him the chance? I suspected he had more than a

beating in mind, a suspicion made stronger by the knife he’d brandished at me. He couldn’t have

killed me, but I knew I’d have been in for a world of hurt.

I’ve said before I’m a bleeding heart. No matter how much I told myself Jamaal had

deserved what I’d done to him, I couldn’t help feeling awful about it. Which is why I called

Anderson while I was barreling down the street, trying to keep my speed to something that

wouldn’t inspire the cops to pull me over. If the way my own wound had healed after the car

accident was any indication, Jamaal would be in pain and without an eye for at least a couple of

hours, and I didn’t want to leave him alone in that parking lot. Aside from any pity I might feel

for his pain, I also didn’t want any innocent bystanders to stumble on him. I didn’t imagine

having his eye taken out had improved his mental health.

Anderson answered on the first ring. “Nikki! Where are you?”

I blinked in surprise at the alarm in his voice. “On the road,” I said. “Alexis—”

“Has your sister. I know. I just got off the phone with Blake.”

Anger overwhelmed my fear, turning everything red. “Where the fuck was he?” I yelled.

“He was supposed to be
protecting
her.” I couldn’t restrain a sob, and I had to blink away the

tears that obscured my vision. I couldn’t afford tears, not now.

“Explanations later,” Anderson said curtly. “Do you know where he’s taken her?”

I blurted out the address. If one of Anderson’s people was closer than I was, then maybe

they could get there in time to help Steph.

“And where are
you
?” he asked.

“Still in Chevy Chase, but going as fast as I can.”

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line, as though Anderson was surprised by

my answer. But then, if he’d already talked to Blake, he knew when Steph was taken, and he had

to wonder why I wasn’t already halfway to the rendezvous.

“Jamaal delayed me,” I said, no longer caring if that made me a tattletale. “You might

want to send someone to the country club to pick him up. He’s not in very good shape at the

moment.”

“I’ll call you back,” Anderson said, then hung up abruptly.

I frowned at the phone. Why had he hung up on me like that? Even in those few words,

I’d been able to hear the rage in his voice, but it was
Jamaal
he was angry at, not me. Right?

I closed the phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat. It didn’t matter who Anderson

was angry at or why he’d hung up. He was at the mansion, too far away to help. I’d deal with the

fallout from my fight with Jamaal later.

The phone rang a couple of times as I sped through the streets of the city, cursing every

red light I couldn’t afford to run for fear of police intervention. I ignored it, because at the speed

I was driving, it was safer to keep all my attention on the road. I wouldn’t do Steph much more

good if I wrecked the car than if I got stopped by the cops.

The minutes ticked away, and though I tried not to, I couldn’t help checking the clock on

the dashboard every time I could spare the attention. I let out a sob when Alexis’s deadline came

and went, although I’d known from the moment I’d run into Jamaal that I wouldn’t make it in

time. I prayed Alexis would hold off for just a little while, give me a little grace period, since he

knew just how unreasonable his deadline had been.

I turned the final corner a good ten minutes past the deadline. The street was quiet and

secluded—which, of course, suited Alexis’s purpose. There weren’t any legal parking spaces