Turning Payne (12 page)

The guard's brows drew down in a deep frown. He glanced back at Turner and scowled. "Put your weapon down now."

"Get out of our way." Turner's voice rumbled with a growl. His words were laced with enough primal power that she saw the guards hesitate and shift uncomfortably, but their weapons remained trained on him.

Riley placed her hand on his back, and swore she could feel the lion vibrating underneath his skin. "You can't win this."

"She's right, son." The guards parted, allowing a middle-aged woman to enter the room. She wore a black pantsuit and her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Her silvery blue eyes glanced briefly at the lifeless body, then locked on Turner.

Riley's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the woman from the picture in Turner's living room. A shiver raced across Riley's flesh.

"Put the gun down, Turner," the woman said softly, dangerously.

Turner lowered his gun slowly as his mouth dropped open and he shivered visibly. "Mother?"

The woman's smile was a cruel shadow of motherly affection. "It's good to see you again, son."

Turner reached for Riley's hand, tightening his grip when he felt his own confusion and fear mirrored in her thoughts. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he couldn't stop his own body from shaking. What the fuck was going on?

The woman who wore his mother's face took a small step forward. "I'm sorry that I had to come to you like this, but when my men alerted me about what happened"—she looked down at Boyd's body and gave a sympathetic shake of her head—"I knew I could no longer prolong our reunion."

Turner opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? He pulled Riley closer.

His mother raised her hand. "Lower your weapons gentlemen. My son poses no threat." Her blue eyes locked securely on Turner. It was more of a question than a statement.

He gave a brief nod and the guards lowered their weapons. Chills raced over his skin, his muscles tightened, and he fought back the emotions building in his chest. His mother was alive. But not just alive, she was somehow connected to the man he had been hunting down for years. The man Turner believed had abducted and killed her.

"What are you doing here?" The question fell from his lips before he could stop it, his fingers tightening on the weapon in his hand.

For a brief moment, her expression turned fierce, then softened once again. "There will be time for questions and answers later. Come," she held her hand out to Riley, her countenance almost motherly, but the mechanical tone in her voice made the hairs on the back of Turner's neck stand on end.  "You poor thing. You must be beside yourself with grief. Let us clean you up and then we can get better acquainted."

A faint whimper sounded in Riley's throat. She glanced up at him, her eyes large and glassy.
What's going on?

I have no fucking clue.
And he didn't, but he knew he had to get Riley out of the room and away from her father's body. He could feel her fading fast and was surprised her knees hadn't given out on her already.

Keeping Riley secured to his side, he allowed his mother to guide them out of the room. A million questions raced through his mind, but he couldn't think of one logical explanation that would explain what his mother was doing with Boyd.

Circe
. The guards had called her by the alias. An alias that suggested that she was somehow responsible for the recent random shiftings. It wasn't possible. Was it? He glanced sideways at the woman he had called mother, and an ache started in his chest.

She was older than he remembered. There were lines around her eyes and mouth, and her dark hair was laced with threads of silver, but it was the same face that had comforted him as a child, and yet there was a darkness behind her eyes he had never noticed before—maybe it had always been there and he'd just never wanted to see it.

"Here we are." His mother placed a manicured hand on Riley's arm as one of the guards opened the door to a large bedroom suite. "Go rest. We'll talk more at dinner."

Riley looked up at him, her face tight with grief and indecision.

"I'm staying with her," Turner said.

He could see the disapproval in the woman's eyes, but she merely smiled and tilted her head. "I'll have someone come for you when dinner is ready."

Turner shivered at the weight of her stare. "Thank you."

A thin smile stretched across her face, she nodded then turned, leaving behind two men to guard the door.

Riley let go of his hand and moved silently into the room, leaving him staring after his mother's retreating form. There was a small piece of him that wanted to trail after her. After so many years, he didn't want to lose sight of her, in case she disappeared again. But Riley needed him, and he was honest with himself that he needed her too. His mother was right, there would be time for answers—he'd make sure of it.

Turner snarled at the guards, satisfaction forming in his chest as he sensed their fear and the faint scent of urine as he passed by. He slammed the door, shoved the deadbolt into place, and let out a harsh breath.

Despite the intensity of his own emotions, he was keenly aware of the despair and fear that raged inside Riley. She sat crumpled on the edge of the bed. He placed the weapon he carried on a side table and strode towards her. The desire to protect her, to soothe her pain, overriding his own needs.

In one swift movement, he scooped her up, and carried her to the bathroom. He'd get his answers, but first he needed to take care of his mate.

"What are you doing?" Riley's body was limp against his, her voice a shell of what it normally was.

Turner kissed her forehead, and focused on using what little energy he had left to wrap her in a cocoon of warmth. She moaned against his chest, burying her face in his shirt.

"Getting you cleaned up, sweetheart." He turned on the shower and let the water warm as he undressed her. He watched her face, and spoke softly as he discarded his own clothes. It didn't matter the words he spoke, just that he continued to connect with her so that she didn't shut down completely.

He lifted her into the oversized shower, and she let out a soft whimper as the warm spray of water cascaded over their bodies. Turner scrubbed the dried blood from her hands and arms and the water at their feet turned pink.

Despite the heat, she shivered against him. She looked up at him, green eyes haunted, and he felt his chest tighten. He brushed the damp, red hair away from her face. She still hadn't cried, and it scared the shit out of him.

"You can let go now," he said softly, running his thumb along her cheek. "I've got you."

She closed her eyes and let out a long, quivering sigh. "He's really dead."

Turner nodded.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to feel." She bit her lip and studied her hands that were fisted against his chest. "I just feel numb."

"You're in shock."

"I keep seeing him, his gun pointed at you. I thought…" A thin sob escaped her throat accompanied by the tears she had held back. "I thought he was going to kill you."

"I know. You were protecting me." He tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Thank you."

She gulped in tiny breaths of air and he felt the strength leave her body. He held her snug against him until her tears subsided.

Shutting the water off, he pulled a large towel off the rack and wrapped it around her shoulders. He towel dried her hair, then picked her up and carried her to the king size bed. He crawled in behind her, and positioned himself so that her back rested against his chest.

They lay in silence for a few minutes.

Riley interlaced her fingers with his. "So. That was your mother."

He suppressed the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Yeah."

"And she was working with…my father?"

"Appears so."

Riley nodded weakly. "She wouldn't have let my father shoot you."

He cringed at the conclusion he'd already come to. Would Boyd have killed him knowing he was Circe's son? "I don't know."

She breathed out roughly.

"Nothing about this situation is your fault, Riley." He curled her deeper into his embrace so that his mouth was against her cheek. "No matter what happens, you aren't to blame."

Her fingers tightened around his. "I just wish I could go back to a time when everything made sense."

Had there ever been a time in his life when things made sense? Holding Riley in his arms was the only thing grounding him, stopping him from letting his animal loose to seek the answers they both deserved.

He brushed his lips against her temple and whispered, "Try to rest." They were both going to need their strength if they were ever going to find a way out of this hell.

Circe's men came for them a little after seven. With heavy limbs, Riley dressed. She watched Turner stalk around the room, his muscles tightly coiled under the thin fabric of his t-shirt and hospital-style pants the guards had provided. He scrubbed his fingers through his dark hair, making it stand on end.

Tension thickened the air around him. She placed her hand on his arm, making him stop and look down at her. The stiffness in his expression seemed to melt away as his gaze took her in, and Riley was certain her heart skipped several beats before she finally let her hand drop, breaking the connection.

He growled and pulled her against his chest in a hard embrace. She shuddered as his lips pressed against hers in a demanding kiss. He moaned hungrily, his grip tightening on her hips, grinding his already hard length against her. She whimpered at the instant arousal that flooded through her and opened her mouth to his demanding tongue.

He pulled away, breathless.

Despite everything that had happened, and the precariousness of their situation, she knew one thing—she was falling for him,
hard
.

"We should go," she said, her voice trembling, thick with desire.

"Right." He rubbed his palms over his face and exhaled unevenly. He returned her smile and held out his hand. "Let's go get some answers."

Four armed guards, two in front and two behind them, led them through a series of hallways to an old elevator shaft, which took them up several floors. There was a whole wing to the building that Riley hadn't seen before. It was completely separate from the windowless medical wing and dormitory where she had been staying. Riley was beginning to suspect that they weren't in a building as she had first thought, but rather an old, albeit massive house.

The hallways turned from sterile, whitewashed walls to Victorian-style marbled floors and cherry wood walls and ceilings. They were ushered into a large, elegantly designed dining room. A huge chandelier hung above the dark wooden table. An enormous fireplace blazed on the far side of the room. Floor to ceiling windows lined one side of the room, draped in thick velvet curtains.

Riley peeked out at the darkening sky. It was the first sight of the outside world she'd seen in days. She started to walk towards the window, but a guard grabbed her shoulder, stopping her.

Turner growled and grabbed the guard by the collar of his shirt, thrusting him backwards. "Don't put your hands on her."

Instantly the other men had their weapons drawn and pointed at Turner.

"That'll be enough." Turner's mother appeared at the doorway. She clapped her hands, then gave a dismissive gesture to the guards. "Leave us."

The men glowered at Turner before retreating from the room.

"It seems my son has a possessive streak when it comes to you." Circe walked towards them, her posture stiff, reserved. Her lips quirked up in what looked more like a grimace than a smile. "He was the same way with me when he was a little boy. Always the protector." She tilted her head and studied Riley. "And yet he hasn't marked you, even though his lion has clearly claimed you. Why is that?"

Riley's mouth dropped open. She shut it, biting her tongue.

Turner placed his hand possessively on Riley's shoulder, and a low rumble reverberated from his chest.

His mother clucked her tongue. "Always so sensitive. Just like your father." She turned her back on them and walked towards the large dining room table, running her long, manicured fingers along the glossy edge. "I knew the man was overemotional, but to take his own life, and leave you boys to fend for yourselves…" She shook her head, and for a moment, Riley thought she saw genuine grief in the woman's eyes. "For that, I'm sorry."

Turner flinched as if the woman had struck him. "Dad was your mate."

She chuckled and her features hardened. "Things aren't always as black and white as you want them to be, dear boy."

"Then explain it to me, because right now I can't think of one fucking reason that would make you leave your family." Turner growled, baring his teeth. "We're you working for Boyd all this time?"

Circe sighed, wearily. "Richard Boyd was a friend." She gave Riley a sympathetic smile. "I didn't always agree with his…techniques, but he was a brilliant man."

A vein pulsed violently at Turner's temple. He took a step forward, his hands balled into fists.

Would he strike his own mother? Riley didn't want to find out. There were still too many unanswered questions.

"He tortured and killed hundreds of innocent people," Riley said, placing her hand on Turner's arm.

"Like I said, I didn't always agree with his methods."

"So you worked for him?" Riley asked.

"No my dear, your father worked for me."

"You?"

"For years I believed that he kidnapped you. That you were one of his…victims."

"Always so stubborn," Circe muttered, sitting down at the head of the table. "I tried to protect you from yourself, but you just wouldn't let it go. Even when we orchestrated Richard's death, you still clung to the belief that he was alive."

Riley sucked in an uneven breath. "
You
, orchestrated his death?"

"Why?" Turner asked.

"You were too close to uncovering the truth. But you wouldn't let it go. There's only so much a mother can do to protect her child." There was a clear warning in Circe's tone.

A loud, choppy noise sounded just outside the window at the same time that an older man in a dark suit entered the room.

The man cleared his throat, his dark eyes trained on Turner. "It's time. They're almost here."

Circe stood and brushed her hands over her skirt. "I wish that our visit could be extended, but I'm afraid your brother has been persistent in his search for you."

Turner squinted his eyes and took a step towards her. "I can't let you leave."

Before she could blink, Riley had a gun pointed at her head. The older man licked his lips. "Not another step or I'll put a bullet in the girl's head."

Turner pushed Riley behind him.

"I'm giving you another chance, son. Go, live your life. Stop this nonsense of searching after ghosts that don't want to be found."

"Even if I did, the Therian Council won't let you get away with this. If they found you once, they'll find you again."

Circe smirked. "They'll find me when I want to be found."

"
I'll
find you." His voice was low, a deep, grumbling promise of revenge.

"So much like your father." She shook her head and looked at him as if he was a petulant child worthy of scolding. With a sigh, she turned towards the exit. Before she reached it, she stopped. "Oh and Riley…" She glanced over her shoulder. "It appears your sister's condition has improved. You have twenty minutes before the medical facility self-implodes." She gave Turner a pointed stare. "If you have any hope of saving the girl, you better leave now."

Riley's stomach somersaulted and she thought her heart might crack her ribcage.

Turner cursed vehemently as Circe and her armed men disappeared. He started after them.

"Let her go," Riley pleaded, grabbing him when he tried move past her. She could see the pain and anger in his eyes, the animal clawing to get out, but she needed him. She punched his arm hard, and his head snapped to her. "You heard your mother. The building has explosives and Kiera is still somewhere in those tunnels."

Another set of curses ripped from his throat. "Stay here. I'll find her."

"No way. I'm coming with you."

He growled in exasperation, but thankfully didn't try to argue with her. "Let's go," he muttered, gripping her hand and pulling her behind him. "Do you know what room she's in?"

"Twenty-six B."

The halls were empty, as were the research labs and medical rooms.

Turner pushed the door open, and Riley let out a small cry of relief at the sight of Kiera's small body on a gurney in the center of the room. An IV was attached to one of her hands, and her wrists were strapped down to the bed. Her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell in steady breaths.

"Kiera." Riley rushed to her sister's side. She brushed her hand over Kiera's forehead, pushing the dark hair away from her face.

"Help me untie these," Turner said, unbuckling one of the wrist straps. "If my mother was telling the truth, we don't have much time left."

Riley worked at the other clasp, and gently removed the IV. Turner wrapped the blanket around Kiera's body and lifted her from the bed. In his arms, Kiera looked small and frail, but never in her life had Riley been so relieved. She swiped the tears from her eyes. Now wasn't the time to be sentimental.

"Let's go," Turner growled.

They were in the elevator shaft when the first explosion sounded. The vibrations shook the elevator. Riley pitched forward into the door, hitting her head. The lights flickered off, then back on, but they continued upwards. The door opened a few seconds later.

They spilled out into the large foyer as the second explosion blasted below them.

Pieces of plaster and molding fell from the ceiling.

"Cover your head," Turner screamed, cradling Kiera's limp body against his chest. "There's an exit up ahead."

They ran. Another explosion made the marble floors roll beneath their feet. Smoke and dust blinded their vison. She coughed and rubbed her burning eyes.

"Stay close to me," Turner growled.

Riley reached for the hem of his shirt, and had just grasped it when the material was jerked out of her hand and she was thrust sideways. Pain sliced through her leg and she swallowed a scream. Another series of explosions rocked the building.

"Get her out of here," Riley screamed, when Turner started back towards her.

He ignored her protests. "I'm not leaving you."

Painfully, she used his body as a crutch and hobbled the remaining distance to the door.

They pushed into the open air, and Riley sucked in a deep breath. She lifted her arm, covering her eyes, as the glare of headlights blinded her. Voices rang around her, yelling commands. Strong arms that weren't Turner's wrapped around her shoulder, pushing her away from the smell of burning rubble.

Riley looked around desperately for Turner, but everything was a blur. It felt like one of the explosions had gone off in her brain, and her eyes wouldn't stay focused on one thing.

Her feet lifted off the ground, and she let out a cry.

"I've got you." Chase held her. A frown creased his brow as he ran his hand over her forehead. "You've got a pretty nasty gash on your head."

"Turner?" Her voice was a rough, painful croak.

"He's all right."

They were safe. The nightmare was over, and all Riley wanted to do was sleep, to close her eyes against the stabbing pain that blinded her. She rested her head against his chest and let the darkness engulf her.