Reid's Deliverance (25 page)

The helicopter hung cockpit down, suspended in mid-crash. An innate sense of knowing the undeniable erased Thane’s disbelief. His body, severely injured and on the cusp of death, existed across the desert. His consciousness, perhaps his soul, hovered where he stood.

“This is where fate and chance intersect.” Dalir looked to the impending crash. “Fate decided you will die, but chance has intervened. You and your brothers can die as honorable men. Heroes remembered and rewarded for bravery.” The warrior pointed to a swirling mist. “Or you can follow me there. You and your brothers will give up all you love for a life where no one will cherish your existence. You will sacrifice everything, but you will have more than honor. Come with me, and I will give you the gift of mastering time.” Dalir’s direct gaze held his. “And you will save the world.”

* * * *

Passing seconds flowed through Thane as easily as the air moving in his lungs. He materialized near the oak staircase on the main deck of the super yacht
Loelle
. Nausea rolled in his stomach. Reid phased in beside him. The pallor of his friend’s face contrasted with his dark buzz cut, but he signaled good-to-go and popped a TUMS. After five years of working for Dalir, phasing onto moving targets was still a bitch.

Shelving the worry of losing dinner on his tac boots, Thane focused on priorities. The empty passageway, the MP5 in his hands, and the latest intel on the hostages. Red Path Anarchy had taken Jerrold Fineway and his daughter. The specs for the luxury craft designated the section below as the accommodations deck, but Red Path had turned it into a lab. They’d find the molecular biologist there. His twenty-one-year-old daughter, held as an incentive for him to complete his work, was on the lower deck.

Thane signaled for Reid to take point, and they crept down the stairs. No opposition in sight. The crew and a few hired guns snoozed peacefully in their beds, not expecting trouble miles out in the Pacific. Reid took a peep down the passageway and signaled he saw one guard, armed, in front of the door.

Mace’s voice came through their headsets. “Ghost Rider, this is Casper One. Package is secure.”

Thane cued one squelch into his throat mic in response. They had Fineway’s daughter—time to move. He squeezed Reid’s shoulder, and his friend quick-phased. An arch of golden light, caused by speeding short distances in time, followed him. The guard’s mouth dropped open, and he fumbled for his weapon. He jerked and went limp. Reid shimmered back into form. Using the same deft touch making him a master on the keyboard, he sat the unconscious man on the floor.

Heart pumping with adrenaline, Thane advanced down the passageway and phased into the lab with Reid. Sensing movement to his left, he spun and aimed.

Sitting on a cot, the balding, middle-aged man raised his hands.

Thane lowered his weapon. “You’re safe. We’re here to get you.”

Doctor Fineway’s expression wavered between bafflement and concern. “What about my daughter?”

“We have her.”

The scientist’s shoulders slumped with an exhale. Blinking, he sniffed and slid his glasses up his nose. “I have to destroy my samples.”

“That’s the plan, but bring your notes. We leave in twelve minutes. Do you need help?”

Fineway shook his head. “Everything is in the cleanroom, and there’s only one bio suit.”

He hurried to his suit, put it on, and went into the glass-enclosed area sectioned off from the main lab. The door slid shut and pressure locks bolted into place.

Reid glanced at Thane. “I’m with you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to.” Reid’s eyes narrowed. “Your face says exactly what I’m thinking. This should have been a simple phase-and-go with some fireworks left behind to blow up the boat.” He shook his head. “It would have been easier to prevent this from happening in the first place. If Dalir really wanted us to handle shit—.”

“We’d have the power to go back in time and not just forward.” The thought had crossed Thane’s mind often, but there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. “I hear you, but keep your head in the game. Take a look around and make sure we don’t have unexpected visitors.” He cued up his throat mic. “Casper One, what’s your sit rep?”

“We’re at rally point with the package.”

“Rally point. Roger.” Mace and Colby had made it back to the ship.

One of the many knots in Thane’s gut eased. Once Fineway destroyed the samples, they’d reunite him with his daughter. Then they’d turn over all the information about Red Path Anarchy to the proper authorities.

This time tomorrow, instead of an MP5, he’d have his guitar and a shot of whiskey in his hands.

Alarms sounded from the cleanroom, and hairs rose on Thane’s nape. He ran to the observation window and switched on the intercom. “Dr. Fineway, what’s happening?”

“Don’t come in. I’ve flooded the cleanroom with a contaminant. I’ve also destroyed the antidote along with my samples.” Fineway took off his protective headgear. He gestured to a bin with burning papers and the lab oven on the counter. “My notes are gone, and I’ve fried my laptop. The work they made me do isn’t finished, but what I’ve done can never get out. The only place it exists now is in my mind.”

Thane’s blood ran like an icy river through his veins. “Doctor Fineway, don’t. We’ll protect you.”

“I won’t take the chance of having people I care about used against me. This is the only way I can keep them safe.” The scientist lifted a syringe and tears filled his eyes. “Please tell my wife and daughter I love them. And I’m sorry.”

Celine struggled in the middle of a best-friends-forever sandwich. “This is harassment. You can’t barge into my apartment and order me around.”

“No, this is an intervention.” Ari shoved her mammoth-sized purse against Celine’s butt, and they stumbled into the bedroom. “You’re not spending another depressing Friday night snoozing in front of the television.

“I have plans.” Thai-fusion takeout, a bottle of wine, and lusting over hot actors in her favorite crime drama. It wasn’t exciting, but it was the perfect plan. Or at least it had been until Ari dropped an earring in the trash and discovered the tickets.

“You’re going out. Deal with it.” Lauren looped her blond hair into a haphazard twist. “Ready, Ari?”

Ari’s brown eyes narrowed as she twirled a pair of crystal-studded handcuffs. “Yep.”

“Hold on a minute.”

Instead, they pounced, stripped off Celine’s sleep shirt, and secured her to the bedpost.

They’ve lost their minds.
Why else would two grown women raid her closet as if hunting down the last Prada on Earth? Celine pulled on the cuffs. “If you don’t let me go, you’re back on my shit list.”

“Didn’t know we were off it.” Lauren, carrying a red, strapless mini dress, stepped over a mound of clothes. “Let’s do this.”

Ignoring Celine’s protests, they uncuffed her and dragged her into the bathroom where the two painted, curled, sprayed, and spritzed her into submission. Grinning, they put her in the dress and slipped a pair of stilettos on her feet. Done. They high-fived the result.

“You both suck.” Celine snatched her clutch from the dresser and stomped out.

A half hour later, they shuffled through the crowd at the hottest new martini club in town, The Song.

“Table on the right, near the stage.” Ari raised her voice over lively conversations, clinking glasses, and one of the hottest pop music tracks playing over the house speakers.

“Got it.” Lauren, stunning as usual in a white dress and gladiator-style sandals, turned her hellified get-out-of-my-way attitude up a notch. The crowd rolled back like the parting of the Red Sea.

Dodging elbows and drink servers, Celine made her way to the table. She sank into her seat, silently cursing the shoes, the dress, and the two master intimidators who’d made her squeeze into them.

“Wow, it’s packed.” Ari sat down and tucked her bag next to her jean-clad thigh with room to spare. “I still can’t believe you won tickets for tonight and threw them away.” She smoothed a strand of short, wavy, brown hair behind her ear. Her gold earrings winked accusingly in the low light of votives on the table.

“Will you
please
let it go?” Celine dropped her clutch in front of her. “I honestly don’t remember entering the contest.” With a mound of mail to sort through after a long day at the shop, she’d considered the red envelope junk. “You usually go clubbing in Orlando or Miami, anyway. What’s so special about this place?”

“Thane’s Redemption.” Lauren flipped her hair over her shoulder. “They’ve been playing here for the past few weeks.”

“Yeah, and everybody loves them.” Ari added. “They’re the main reason I come to this place.”

“No.” Lauren smirked. “You come here for Mr. Hot-Ass-Scorching-Twelve.”

Considering Lauren’s pickiness when it came to men, Celine’s curiosity was piqued. “Exactly what does a hot-ass twelve look like?”

Ari adjusted her bronze shoulder strap and leaned in, clearly dying to spill the deets. “He’s tall—”

Lauren hooted a laugh. “Maybe you shouldn’t lead with that one. My eight-year-old nephew is taller than you.”

“Please. Your whole family including your nephew’s ugly dog is a giant.” Ari turned to Celine. “Anyway, as I was saying. The lead singer has long, dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and his voice—” She moaned. “When he sings, all I can think about is—”

“Sleeping with him.” Lauren said.

“Oh, don’t pretend you haven’t fantasized about Thane.” Ari gave Lauren a look. “Celine’s right. In the past, you wouldn’t consider going to a small club, but you love coming to this place, and we know why.”

“I never said I wouldn’t mind sleeping with him. I just don’t drool every time I think about it.” Lauren stood and returned Ari’s mock glare with a syrupy smile. “I’ll order us a round of the usual.”

“What’s the usual?” Celine asked as Lauren headed to the bar.

“A Jamaican mangotini.” Ari’s light brown face grew even prettier with a smile. “It’s got mango nectar, lime juice…and the bartenders here are very generous with the rum.” She looked at Lauren standing at the bar on the other side of the room and chuckled. “Of course, Blondie will make sure they use top-shelf liquor instead of that house-brand crap. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“No worries. By the second one you’ll be on board.”

A laugh made its way past Celine’s lips, but weak from disuse it lost steam and died away. Memories intensified the tug-and-pull between happiness and heartbreak. Maybe the alcohol would help.

Ari squeezed her arm. The compassion in her gaze brought tears to Celine’s eyes. “It’ll be okay.”

“Here we go, lovelies.” Lauren set three martinis down without spilling a drop.

Celine took a sip of her drink. The triple hit of alcohol, tangy sweetness, and coolness washed the tightness from her throat.

“So…” Lauren peered over her glass. “From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you’re talking about the whole depression thing?”

“No,” Ari said, “we’re actually talking about how good it is for her to be out with us again.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Lauren fixed her attention on Celine. “I know it’s hard, but you’re twenty-six, sexy, and single. If you don’t get back out there, you’ll end up like the woman I read about the other day. She’s so lonely she hoards cats and knits sweaters out of fur balls.”

Ari groaned and her friends exchanged eye rolls and subtle gestures.

On some level, she appreciated Lauren’s candor. At least she knew where the conversation was headed even if she didn’t want to go there.

“Trust me. All you need is a hot guy to get you back into the swing of things.” Lauren pointed to the bar. “And the perfect one is standing over there. He’s been checking you out since we walked in the door.”

Celine took a long sip from her martini glass. Twenty-six, yep—she’d celebrated her birthday last month. Sexy—with Lauren and Ari’s help, she had to admit she looked damn good. Single—not the best word to describe her more complicated status. No, she wasn’t a grieving widow, but after almost a year, she was still a brokenhearted fiancée.

Relationships weren’t unthinkable, and she’d tried getting back out there a few times, but her hang-ups weren’t the problem. Once she told her story, most guys never made it past the obligatory, “I’m sorry.” The rest elevated her to untouchable sainthood or smothered her with pity. Or worse, they thought she’d sleep with any man who showed up in exchange for drying her tears. She set her drink down. “Not interested.”

“Talk to him,” Lauren insisted. “We can squeeze in another chair.”

“I don’t want to talk to him.” She’d let them drag her out of her apartment. What else did they want?

“Come on. It’s not a date.” Lauren looked toward the bar and smiled. “Besides, he’s cute and—”

“Damn it, Lauren. I said no.” Moisture welled in Celine’s eyes. Would the tears ever stop? “I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t need your help.” She bumped her glass, and a splash of mangotini landed on her lap. “Shit.” She rolled the chair back and grabbed the least soggy napkin on the table. As she dabbed at the dress, Celine avoided her friends’ open-mouthed stares and stood. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“Wait, I have wet wipes.” Ari searched through her purse. “I’ll go with you.”

“No!”

Ari recoiled.

Working up a smile to soften the blow, Celine took the small packet from her friend. “Thanks. I’m okay. I’ll be right back.”

Refusing to look at the people around them, she left the table and followed the signs down a corridor to the ladies room. Not interested in chitchat or commiseration, she walked past them to the adjoining hallway and leaned back against the wall. As she rubbed away the stain, indignation cooled to regret.
Being a bitch to your friends won’t make it better.

If they only understood.

The one-year mark of losing Dominic didn’t earn a gold medal at the finish line on the race to normal. Losing the future she’d looked forward to with him haunted her every day. Swells of hurt and loss filled her chest. At times like this, he’d have been her sounding board. After talking to him, she’d always known what to do.