Grave Vengeance (25 page)

They were heading deep into the Everglades now, to a place off US-1 where the streets were dirt and rutted with potholes. A canal ran along the side of the road, and several alligators basked along the shoreline. When they got to within a few miles of the tracker’s location, Dmitri pulled onto the side of the road and popped open the trunk.

Drawing a deep breath, Dmitri forced back the growing alarm that threatened to consume him. Was she okay? What were they doing to her? Memories of his own captivity flashed through his mind, and his blood chilled to ice. God help that asshole if he harmed her in any way, shape, or form.

“Why are we stopping?” Sarah asked.

“We need to gear up before we get there,” David explained. He got out of the car and opened her door before following Dmitri to the trunk.

It wouldn’t have made sense to prepare their weapons earlier. Not when they’d been on a busy stretch of highway where someone might have called the cops on a car full of armed civilians. “What’s your preference?” Dmitri asked as David approached.

“That depends. What have you got?”

Dmitri leaned into the trunk and unzipped the bags containing the cache of weapons he’d retrieved from Ruby’s house.

Sarah’s jaw dropped open. “Holy crap, that’s enough firepower to take down a third world country.”

The corners of Dmitri’s mouth twitched as he shrugged on his load-bearing vest. The nylon mesh was equipped with multiple pockets to store his ammo, knives, and a few explosive charges. They had no way of knowing what they were stepping into, and he hoped it would be enough. “This is nothing. You should see what I have back home.”

David scanned the trunk’s inventory with marked interest. “Where’d you get the Kalashnikov?”

“Picked it up at a drug house a few years ago.” After sorting through the carnage and harvesting the souls of the deceased, he’d helped himself to one of the automatic rifles left behind. Since then, he’d added a tactical scope with laser sight to give the weapon a greater degree of versatility.

After a minute or so David gestured toward the nylon case in the back. “I’ll take the M4 and the Beretta. Give her the Sig Sauer.”

An uneasy feeling settled over Dmitri as he slapped a fresh magazine into the M4 and handed it to David. He did the same with the Beretta, checking it first to make sure it had a full clip.

“You sure you want her doing this?” he asked in a low voice. The last thing he wanted was to catch shit from David because his woman got involved in something she couldn’t handle.

“Yes, he’s sure,” Sarah answered for him, the irritation plain in her voice.

Experience had taught Dmitri not to argue with that tone. He racked a round in the chamber of the Sig Sauer and flipped the safety on before passing the gun to Sarah. “Not a word if you shoot yourself.”

Sarah nodded, her face filled with a steely determination that he couldn’t help but appreciate. “You got it.”

 

Gwen lifted her aching head. A thick, damp haze clouded her thoughts, but she still maintained just enough clarity to remember where she was and what was happening.

Her entire body hurt so much she’d moved into a whole new territory of pain. Glancing down at her ruined hands, she fought the urge to retch. The missing skin on top would regenerate in a day or two, but she had no idea how long it would take before her fingernails grew back. Broken ribs dug into her flesh, making every inhale pure agony.

Patrick had been right. Noah knew things about dispensing pain that she’d never even considered. More than once, she’d passed out from the wrenching agony, only to be revived for another round of questioning. And after everything they’d put her through, she’d be damned if she told them a thing.

The sun had set a little while ago, and the darkening sky was visible through the holes in the roof. Where the hell was Dmitri? He should have been here already. For hours, she’d clung to the hope that he’d rescue her, but now she wasn’t so sure. The possibility that he wasn’t coming hurt worse than all of the torture. Ruthlessly, she shoved the doubt aside. He’d make it stop, she repeated in her mind. He would. And after that, he’d make the bastards pay.

“State your name,” Noah said, his tone clipped and commanding. There was a guttural quality to his accent that she couldn’t quite pin down.

Gwen raised her gaze from her hands. She glared at Noah with a look of pure hatred, and something clicked in her mind. “You’re one of the Gutians, aren’t you?” It would explain the foreign thread in his life force that she couldn’t quite identify. He wasn’t demonic, and he wasn’t a mage. But he was most certainly evil. She could sense the malevolence in the core of his being. “You’re using Patrick to open the portal so your kind can invade our world.”

Noah didn’t confirm or deny her accusation, but the flicker of awareness in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

“State your name,” he repeated, and a wave of hostility radiated off his body.

A trickle of blood stung her eye, and she blinked to clear her vision. Thoughts of vengeance filled her mind, and a vicious grin stretched across her mouth. Oh, yeah. They were so going to pay for all this.
“Ya vam nichego ne skazhu.”

“Stop saying that!” The vein in Patrick’s forehead looked like it was ready to blow, which was a reward all in itself. “Give her another shot.”

“We can’t, we’ve already exceeded the maximum dosage.” Noah shined a penlight in her eyes before checking the pulse at her wrist. “What’s in her system hasn’t had enough time to reach the full effect. If we wait another ten or fifteen—”

“I gave you an order,” Patrick barked. “Now juice her again.”

“All right, you’re the boss.” Noah prepared another injection. After everything else they’d done to her, she barely felt the needle when it pricked her arm. A flare of fire burned in Gwen’s veins while the drug worked through her system, and then her muscles relaxed so fully the only things holding her upright were the restraints.

Surrendering to the pull of oblivion, her eyes rolled back in her head. Funny, how she could hear everything clearly while the rest of her body shut down. For the first time in over an hour, she felt no pain. Actually, she didn’t feel anything, and she embraced the loss of sensation.

“I told you.” That was Noah’s voice, just to her right. “Now she’s overdosed.”

“Bring her back!” Patrick said. The bastard had the nerve to sound upset.

Someone yanked her head up by the hair. Smelling salts were shoved under her nose, and in spite of the noxious odor, her body refused to respond.

“She’s not coming out of this until the drugs wear off,” Noah said, sounding thoroughly put out.

“How long will that take?”

“Hour, maybe sooner. It’s hard to gauge with your kind.”

“An hour?” Patrick’s voice shot up an octave. “I don’t have an hour. I need that information now!”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. I can’t override the laws of biochemistry. Until the drugs wear off, we’re dead in the water.”

Suck it, Patrick
, Gwen thought with a sick sense of satisfaction. She’d give anything to see the look on his face.

Patrick cursed. There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, followed by fading footsteps. A door creaked open, and then he said, “Call me the second she comes around.”

W
hen the compound holding Gwen came into view, Dmitri pulled onto the shoulder and cut the engine. Primal instincts demanded he take back what was his, but common sense told him to stay smart. Gwen was depending on him. The last thing he needed was to rush in half-cocked and fuck up the entire operation. Reaching under the seat, he retrieved a pair of night vision binoculars and scanned the area.

A chain-link fence surrounded some sort of warehouse covered with graffiti. Who knew what its purpose was originally intended to be, but now it was probably used by smugglers to bring narcotics into Miami. It looked to be about two stories tall, with a smaller building attached on the northern side. A dock connected along the eastern wall, with a twenty-foot speedboat tethered to one of the pilings. Two package vans were parked out front, right next to a four-door sedan.

“What are we dealing with?” David asked.

Dmitri narrowed his focus to search for signs of movement. “Got a guy at the gate armed with a pistol and three with rifles walking the perimeter.”

“I can handle the one at the gate,” Sarah said from the back seat.

Dmitri’s gaze cut to the rearview mirror. She was five foot six and a buck thirty soaking wet. Before becoming a reaper less than two years ago, she was a scientist working in a lab. She had no military training, had never fired a gun, and now she thought she could take down an armed reaper nearly twice her size.

“You sure you can handle him?” David asked.

Dmitri shot him an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.”

“She has a gift,” David insisted.

“A gift for what, becoming an organ donor?”

Sarah and David exchanged one of those looks—the kind where an entire conversation takes place without a single word being spoken.

“Tell him,” David finally said. “He won’t say anything to Samuel.”

“Won’t say what to Samuel?” This had to be good if David was nervous about the big boss finding out.

“Uh . . . well.” The column of her throat moved when she swallowed. “I can kind of mess with people’s heads.”

Dmitri gave her a blank stare. “That’s it?” The love of a good woman must have made David soft if he considered that impressive.

“She’s better at it than any reaper I’ve encountered,” David said.

That got Dmitri’s attention. David had been around a long time and had seen a lot of weird shit. “How strong?”

“She can do it to me without trying,” David replied, not looking happy about it in the least.

“When Patrick’s men came for us,” Sarah added, “I immobilized three of them before I ran out of juice.”

Okay, now that could be useful, if she didn’t get herself shot in the process. Dmitri stared through the binoculars at the guard manning the front entrance. From this far, it was tough to gauge the guy’s size, but he didn’t look like a pushover. “You won’t get a second chance. Are you sure you can take him out?”

Sarah nodded. “It shouldn’t be a problem. What do you want me to do to him?”

Personally, he’d rather ventilate the bastard, but since they needed the element of surprise, it was better to slip in quietly. “I don’t care. Just make sure he doesn’t get in our way or sound any alarms.”

Something hardened in Sarah’s eyes. She nodded. “You got it.”

Turning his attention back to the compound, Dmitri searched for signs of activity. There was a guy standing sentinel near the door to the warehouse, staring at something in the distance. “Looks like they’re holding her in the main building.”

David took the binoculars Dmitri offered and fixed his gaze on their target. “You think? The smaller one would be easier to defend.”

“Yeah, but the lights are off in the smaller building. Knowing Ziegler, he’ll want to interrogate her immediately, and he can’t do that in the dark.” The thought of that asshole touching his woman made every muscle in Dmitri’s body tense. He grabbed the Kalashnikov from the back seat and slung the strap over his shoulder. They’d cover the remaining distance on foot, using the dense vegetation outside the compound for cover. “Think you can create a diversion on the northern side while I slip into the warehouse?” he asked David.

“Not a problem.” David’s expression turned to stone as he shoved the Beretta in his shoulder holster and double-checked the M4 to make sure the safety was set. “Give me about fifteen minutes so I can cover Sarah and get into place.” He turned to Sarah and held out his hand. “Ready?”

She looked nervous, which was good. It would keep her from getting cocky. Taking David’s hand, she turned to Dmitri. “We’ll get her back.”

He had no doubt in his mind. To save Gwen, he’d cut down every damn reaper who dared to get in his way. And if they’d hurt her? He’d tear them to pieces.

 

How long had she been out? A minute? An hour? It didn’t feel like long, but she honestly couldn’t say for sure.

Gwen felt Noah’s presence but couldn’t muster the strength to open her eyes to see what he was doing. He hadn’t spoken, hadn’t made a sound. But she sensed his life force lurking nearby, close but not touching, and the knowledge thoroughly unsettled her.

“I know you can hear me,” he said at last, his breath hot against her temple. Something hot and wet dragged against her cheek, and she fought back the urge to shudder. “The drugs should have worn off by now.”

He was right. Already, her nerves had started to reawaken, sending fresh waves of pain through every synapse.

“You’re stronger than I anticipated. It’s never taken me this long to break a woman.” The backs of his fingers brushed her neck and if she could have moved, she would have jerked away. “But you’re only delaying the inevitable. I’ve been stuck on this world for over four thousand years, and I’m not about to let some pissant reaper ruin my chance of going home. I’ve broken warriors and kings, and I will break you.”

Now that they were alone, he apparently didn’t feel compelled to conceal his Gutian ancestry. It must suck to be stranded on an alien world, and she understood why he wanted the portal opened so badly. But if he opened the rift, he could return with reinforcements and inflict untold harm on humanity. No way could she allow that to happen.

With a groan, Gwen pried her eyes open. Everything around her appeared fuzzy and dull, but after a few seconds her vision pulled into focus. A pulsing ache throbbed in her hands, and it still hurt each time she breathed. “Not happening,” she said, her words slurred and unsteady.

Noah chuckled. “We’ll see.” He waved the smelling salts under her nose again, and her head recoiled from the odor. The jolt was enough to clear her mind and bring the pain front and center.

“Welcome back.” The sadistic bastard grinned as he picked up a pair of pliers. “Shall we continue?”

“Sure, why not, the last round was a barrel of fun.” Gwen glanced at the door, and her hopes began to fade. Maybe Dmitri couldn’t find where they’d taken her. Or maybe he just didn’t care. There stood a good chance she’d die in this warehouse, her soul ripped to shreds and her body fed to the gators.

No. With a shake of her head, she wiped the doubt from her mind. Dmitri wasn’t a man who gave up easily. If he had to, he’d tear the state apart until he found her.

She only hoped that she’d still be in one piece.

An explosion outside shook the warehouse walls and made the overhead lights dim. Dust fell from the rafters and coated everything in sight. There was the faint sound of people yelling in the distance, their voices muddled and confused.

Could it be? She strained to listen and grinned when she heard a burst of automatic gunfire. It had to be. No one else could create that much chaos in such a short period of time.

Visibly worried, Noah grabbed his phone and dialed. “What was that?” he asked the person on the other end of the line.

“That’s Death,” Gwen replied. Another explosion rocked the building, followed by a burst of gunfire that ricocheted off the metal exterior. A high-pitched shriek pierced the night, right before the lights flickered. For a second or two, darkness cloaked them in shadow, and when the lights came back on she saw genuine fear on Noah’s face. “He’s coming for you, you son of a bitch, and he won’t take no for an answer.”

 

Dmitri fired at the reaper positioned on the roof, satisfaction filling him when he heard a sharp cry of pain. He waited, listening for signs of movement. Nothing on the roof, but he heard footsteps behind him, and he turned in time to see two more reapers running in his direction. Shielding the bulk of his body behind the back of a van, he took aim and fired twice, dropping both men.

The sound of bullets crackled about fifty yards away, followed by a thunderous boom. Judging by the way the ground vibrated, David had just blown up something pretty big. Dmitri didn’t know what, and he really didn’t care, so long as the former soldier kept Ziegler’s men occupied while he searched the buildings for Gwen.

Keeping his head down, he slapped a fresh magazine in his rifle before crossing the short distance to the warehouse. He tried the door; found it locked. He raised his foot and kicked with all of his strength, and the door groaned but held. Another kick, the frame splintered, and the door swung loose on its hinges. Dmitri went in low, his eyes scanning the darkness for signs of Gwen. Moonlight cast shadows across the cavernous structure, and the scent of gasoline lingered in the air. He sensed a weakened life force at the far end of the room, but he couldn’t see that far. Moving cautiously, he felt along the wall until he found an electrical outlet.

The room flooded with light when he flipped the switch, and what he saw clawed at his heart.

Bloody and bruised, Gwen was bound to a chair with duct tape covering her mouth. Her eyes squinted against the light, only to widen when she saw him. A muffled scream rose in her throat as she fought against the restraints.

Dmitri rushed to her side and inspected the damage. Her face was bruised, and a gash bled along her forehead. There were patches of skin missing on the tops of both hands, the raw flesh swollen and bloody. Her breathing sounded shallow, like it hurt to draw air, which might indicate broken ribs. She looked up at him through bleary eyes, the whites so bloodshot they made Dmitri’s own eyes burn in sympathy.

Ziegler was a fucking dead man. In the darkest part of Dmitri’s mind, the place he usually kept locked tight, he imagined what he’d do to the bastard. He’d tear that asshole limb from limb, and then let him heal so he could do it all over again.

But revenge would have to wait until Gwen was safe. Inside, he cringed at the extent of her injuries, but he refused to let it show. She wouldn’t want his pity, and even if she did, now wasn’t the time to give comfort.

“Hold tight, Gwenya. I’m going to get you out of here.” He holstered his pistol and set his rifle on the ground so he could concentrate on unlocking the handcuffs.

Gwen’s eyes bulged as her focus flicked to something over his shoulder. She let out a loud “Mmph!” but he couldn’t tell what she was trying to say through the barrier of the tape.

A flash of movement caught his eye. He ducked on instinct, barely escaping the knife that sliced through the air where his head had just been and hit the metal wall a few feet away. Dmitri grabbed for his pistol as he whirled around and came face-to-face with a tall, skinny guy who reminded him of a scarecrow.

Before he could fire, the guy head-butted him. His head whipped back, the gun went flying, and for a moment he saw nothing but stars. Dmitri shook his head to clear his vision. He recovered in time to avoid the second blow and then landed a punch of his own.

It felt like he’d just hit concrete.

The bastard grinned, flashing a set of fangs as he grabbed Dmitri by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall. The impact echoed across the room and put a dent in the metal.

“Lesser species,” the guy sneered, derision thick in his voice. He lunged, but Dmitri dodged his grip, using his momentum to whirl around and land a kick to his opponent’s kidney.

The asshole grunted as he stumbled forward. Unleashing his rage, Dmitri moved in close for a knee to the ribs and a punch to the face. Blood spurted from the scarecrow’s broken nose, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

With a growl, he rushed at Dmitri, catching him by the waist and dragging him to the ground. They rolled on the floor in a tangle of limbs, punching, kicking, scratching and biting, each trying to gain the upper hand. There were no rules in this kind of conflict. Whoever fought dirtiest got to live.

For someone so skinny, the guy was remarkably strong. Judging by his life force, he also wasn’t human. But he was mortal, which meant he could die. He punched Dmitri in the chest, and it felt like he’d been kicked by a mule. Ignoring the pain, Dmitri slammed his fist into the guy’s face again and again. He was riding a surge of adrenaline now, barely aware of the blows to his own body as he pounded relentlessly on his enemy.

Spitting out blood, the guy rolled to the side and grabbed Dmitri’s gun. Dmitri locked his fingers around the man’s wrist and yanked the barrel hard to the right. The gun discharged, and the bullet ricocheted off the floor. As they wrestled for control, the pistol fired again, and this time pain bolted through Dmitri’s left thigh.

Enough of this shit. He needed to take care of Gwen. Dmitri slammed an elbow into the bastard’s chest, and the impact was enough to loosen the guy’s grip on the weapon. With a grunt of exertion, Dmitri wrenched the gun free. He jammed the barrel under the scarecrow’s chin and emptied half of the clip. Spasms racked his opponent’s body before it went limp and all traces of his life force extinguished.

“Lesser species my ass.” Dmitri grimaced as he pushed up from the floor. The pain in his leg was a throbbing burn now, and he glanced down to assess the damage. Blood soaked his pants around the point of entry on his upper thigh. No exit wound meant the bullet was still lodged in his leg, but he’d have to deal with that later.