Edge of Darkness (33 page)

Christian mistakenly slammed the SUV into drive instead of reverse, shouted a curse, and wished, for not the first time in his life, but definitely the most fiercely, that he’d learned to drive.

The powerful engine propelled the car forward with a lurch, and he crashed into the SUV parked in front of him.

He’d been able to sneak undetected to the car from his hiding place behind the pines because there was still a gun battle raging at the bunker compound. Though the shooters led by Jahad—he recognized the big albino, but didn’t have a clear shot as the man bounded for the main entrance with Kamikaze determination and disappeared inside—had killed the
Ikati
left behind at the sedan they’d been chasing, dozens more had erupted from hidden holes in the ground all around the area like rats from a sinking ship.

Armed, angry rats.

Conveniently, Jahad’s men had even left the car running for him. Which was lucky, because Christian wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to locate the key, find the ignition and turn the engine over, on top of figuring out which direction to pull the shifter on the steering wheel column to make the car move forward and back.

Before this moment, he’d thought driving a car was a matter of simple common sense.

Too bad he hadn’t tested that theory under better circumstances.

He slammed the shifter in the other direction and stomped his foot on the gas pedal. The car surged backward with surprising force, throwing him into the steering wheel, and tearing off the rear bumper of the other SUV. Quickly righting himself, Christian eased his foot off the pedal, gripped the steering wheel, and executed a squealing 180-degree turn that miraculously managed to point him in the right direction down the hill. The demolished metal bumper went flying off into the darkness beyond the headlights.

This time when he punched the accelerator, he knew what to expect.

He didn’t look behind to see if he was followed. He didn’t look behind to get a better look at what sounded like a small munitions explosion, possibly one of the buried land mines. He
did
look behind just as he reached the bottom of the hill—a quick glance in the rearview mirror before he made the turn onto the main road—when a much larger explosion rocked the night, lighting it brilliant orange and crimson and blue like a tropical sunset.

Bodies flying in slow motion. A giant fireball of flame and debris. A spectacular flare of color against the sky, then everything fell dark and silent except for a few piles of flaming rubble and the squalling of a half dozen car alarms, oddly alien among the trees and grass and sky.

“Jesus,” muttered Christian, flooded with relief that Ember hadn’t been in that compound; apparently Caesar had the whole thing wired. With the amount of explosives it must have taken to induce that kind of light show, he doubted if anything identifiable would be left.

Then he smiled in dark satisfaction.
So long, Jahad. I bet the goats in hell have much sharper teeth than all the ones you killed up here, you miserable bastard.

He pulled the sat phone from his zippered pocket, set it on the seat beside him, and did his best to stay on the right side of the yellow line as he flew down the two-lane highway and into the outskirts of the city.

It took too long. His heart felt like it was eating its way out of his chest. The air had become too thin to breathe.

Narrowly missing oncoming traffic, he blew through three stoplights before he finally had to stop at a busy intersection near the marina. Seconds ticked by like hours as he waited for the light to turn, and as soon as it did, he was flying like a madman over the pavement once again.

Ember was with Caesar. He knew it. He felt it, deep in his bones.

Just as he knew he was going to tear that son of a bitch’s head right off his body.

He abandoned the SUV near the aquarium building in the marina parking lot and set off at a dead run with the rifle slung over his back and the phone in his hand, following the direction of the little red dot. The boat slips were at the opposite end of the parking lot with the smaller vessels nearest the lot and the larger yachts at the end of the wood slip decks. Barcelona was loaded with mega-yachts and their rich owners, so the marina was forested with sleek, gleaming ships, but he had the phone, and he knew exactly where he was going.

When finally he stood panting at the end of the dock eight boats removed from a sleek number ironically named
God of Vengeance
, Christian knew without looking at the mobile that Ember was inside.

He smelled her. He was so attuned to her scent now he could find her blindfolded in the middle of a huge crowd.

He expected to smell fear, but strangely she was angry. Angry and repulsed—Christian didn’t want to know what Caesar might be doing to her to make her feel that way.

He dialed a stored number. Caesar picked up on the second ring.

“Armond, talk to me. What’s happening up there?”

“You have something that’s mine,” said Christian, his voice deadly soft. A shadow moved across one of the windows inside
God of Vengeance
, and Christian’s gaze snapped to the movement.

Top deck. Gotcha.

“Well, hello, friend! I’ve been so
hoping
we could meet,” came the hissed reply. “In fact, your girlfriend and I were just talking about you!”

Christian curled his hand so tightly around the phone the plastic casing cracked. “If she’s hurt, you’re going to wish you were never born!”

“Oh, she’s fine, aren’t you, little rabbit? A little bloody, a few broken bits, but she’s none the worse for wear.”

Christian went hot with rage at the intimate tone in Caesar’s voice and the suggestion—he hoped to God it was just a bluff—that Ember was broken and bloody. The world went black for a moment as fury blinded him, but he inhaled slowly and deeply, calming himself, willing his anger to focus.

Wanting Caesar to think him still at the bunkers so he retained the element of surprise as he silently crept nearer, Christian said, “I know it’s me you want. So I’ll make you a deal. Tell me where you are and I’ll trade—”

Caesar laughed. “No deal. At this point, I couldn’t care less about you. The cat’s out of the bag. My colony is already compromised, so I don’t need to kill you to stop you from outing my location to your little coffee klatsch anymore.”

He was referring to the Council of Alphas. They’d just love hearing themselves called a “coffee klatsch.”

“And now that I have September…well, we can just call it even for the two men of mine you killed. You took two, I took two. Tit for tat, so to speak!”

He laughed, a self-congratulatory, maniacal sound that sent something unpleasant crawling down Christian’s spine.

Tit for tat? What the hell was he talking about?

Then the yacht’s idling engines changed gear, and it began to glide away from the dock.

Christian had two choices. If he approached in human form and jumped on before the gap between the dock and the yacht widened too far, he’d give himself away; they’d hear him
and
scent him. If he Shifted to Vapor, not only would he have to stage a surprise attack totally nude, which was less than appealing, but he’d lose the weapons he’d gained from the guard’s clothing—a wicked folding blade, a handgun and the rifle. None of those would take care of Caesar permanently, but they’d certainly take care of whoever else was with him, and at least Christian would have a chance to snatch Ember and get the hell off the yacht before Caesar could heal from the magazine of ammo that had been unloaded into his brain.

But until then, there really was only one other option:

Swim for it.

Like all his kind, he hated getting wet in his animal form, and avoided it at all costs. But as a man, Christian was a strong, fast swimmer. And water had the added benefit of dampening his scent. If he was quick and lucky, he could swim to the stern and climb aboard unnoticed, all while keeping his weapons.

Decision made.

Christian growled into the phone, “We’ll
never
be even, you piece of shit. And I’ll see you in hell before I let you have her!”

Then without even bothering to disconnect the call he dove into the cold water of the marina with a neat, noiseless splash.

Caesar smiled at the look on Ember’s face as he lowered the phone to his side.

“In case you’re getting the wrong idea, your boyfriend isn’t coming to the rescue. He’s looking in the wrong place. Even as we speak, he’s probably sifting through dead bodies to find you far, far away. But he’s never going to find you, rabbit. You and I will have
plenty
of time to get to know one another properly.”

This was spoken in a tone of gleeful delight as he swaggered toward her. Halfway there, he stopped, frowned, and looked down at the phone in his hand. “Though I’ll have to jam the locator on this, we don’t want him figuring out—”

He cut off abruptly. He punched something into the phone, paused for a beat while he stared intently at the screen, then screamed “
No!
”

Nico darted in from another door behind her. “Sire? What is it?”

“
He’s here!
”

The instant he spoke those words, Ember saw a flash of movement in her peripheral vision. With an animal snarl, a dripping wet Christian bolted into the room and dropped Nico with a brutal fist to the face before he could turn. Nico crumpled to the floor at his feet, Christian grabbed the rifle he had slung over his shoulder, and Caesar turned and began to run.

Christian fired a volley of rounds that pierced Ember’s ears like cannon fire. A spray of bullets punctured the walls and shattered two windows before the gun jammed and Caesar vanished down a hallway. Blood misted the corner of the doorway he’d just disappeared around.

“Shit. Saltwater,” muttered Christian, jerking the magazine out and peering at it. Then, as if he’d just noticed her cowering on the couch, he spun and stared at her.

He dropped the rifle. In a heartbeat he was beside her, vibrating rage and danger, big and brawny with scalding green eyes as he knelt down and grasped her arms, his expression horrified, tender, and furious all at once.

“Are you—Jesus, your face. Baby,
what did he do to you?
”

“I’m fine! It’s worse than it looks—my hands—”

He saw her bound wrists, removed a folding knife from a pocket of his cargo pants and, in one quick move, cut the plastic zip tie. She moaned as her hands slipped forward and sensation came flooding back into her numb arms.

He touched her face and growled, “Get off the boat! Jump off the back—swim—we’ll talk about your stupid fucking plan later—”

“It was
your
stupid plan first! And I can’t swim!”

At his look of disbelief, Ember said, “I grew up in Taos, for God’s sake. It’s seven thousand feet above sea level! Nobody even had a pool!”

But he didn’t respond to that. He’d frozen, and was staring in what looked like horror at her face. At the blood smeared all over her broken nose, mouth, and chin.

“I told you, it’s not as bad as it looks—”

He knocked aside the hand Ember covered her nose with, put his face nearer to hers and inhaled. Then he jerked back as if she’d stabbed him. He went pale. His eyes burned with some unidentifiable emotion.

Without another word, he lifted her in his arms and took off through the living area, headed to the stern of the yacht.

Just as they flew through the open glass doors to the rear patio and stepped onto the teak deck out into the cool night air, they were hit by something hard from behind, and they went down.

Christian landed on top of her, but immediately rolled off and started fighting with Nico, who’d jumped on his back. They rolled over and over on the polished teak deck, punching and hissing savagely as they went, until they hit the low deck wall with a muffled boom, and Christian gained the advantage. In one blinding motion, he was atop Nico, pummeling him in the face with his fists.

Across the deck, a slender, silver shape rolled toward Ember and came to rest only inches away.

Her mouth fell open. Her lungs stopped working. Her heart jumped up into her throat.

The detonator. Nico must have been carrying it.

“Jump, Ember, jump! I’m right behind you!” Christian screamed, still punching Nico, who was barely managing to keep his arms in front of his face to ward off Christian’s blows.

But then Caesar appeared in the doorway. Ember snatched up the detonator and hid it behind her back.

In his hand Caesar held a gun. Which he pointed directly at Christian.

“Stop!” he shouted.

Christian froze, looked up at him, and his lips peeled back over his teeth. “A dozen bullets won’t stop me from taking you down,” he growled, murder in his eyes. Nico lay bloody and unmoving beneath him.

“Okay,” said Caesar mildly, “but this might.” Then he turned the gun to Ember and smiled.

Everything screeched to a halt. Her heartbeat, her thought processes, time itself.

Christian’s livid face burned with hatred. “Son of a—”