A Touch of Crimson

Page 20

“Gotcha.”
The food arrived and Adrian sent it back to be boxed. It took the waiter several minutes to see to it, and Helena failed to return during that time. But Adrian had known the chances of her doing so had been fifty-fifty at best. He understood what she was going through and he knew what he would do if there had been anyone capable of stepping between him and Lindsay—he’d grab her and run, buying what precious little time he could before they were caught.
He tossed cash on the table to settle the bill. He collected the bagged food containers with one hand while rubbing at the constriction of his throat with the other. He’d given Helena an hour’s head start. It was a pitiful concession, but the only one he could make before the hunt for her and her rogue lycan would begin.
Adrian hoped she’d had the foresight to have Mark waiting nearby. The alternative—that she might have thought, for even a moment, that he would condone her decision—was too painful to contemplate.
If he’d fallen that far in the eyes of his Sentinels, the trials they would face in the days ahead would be insurmountable.
CHAPTER 14
Vash wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and bared her fangs at the lycan she’d pinned to a pine tree with a silver-coated blade. Forced into his human form by the silver’s poisoning of his blood he slumped naked with his head hanging, breathing shallowly.
“You know whose blood this is,” she said again, nursing her own myriad collection of deep bites and gouges. She waved the rag with the telltale bloodstain on it under his nose. “Which one of your packmates took the pilot from the airport in Shreveport?”
“Fuck. You. Bitch,” he gasped, gripping the hilt of the sword but too weak to pull it free of the wood behind him.
“We’ll be at this all day.”
He looked up at her from beneath a hank of red hair that was lighter than hers by a few shades. “I’ll be dead in an hour. And you’ll have nothing.”
“You really don’t want to keel over before you tell me what I want to know.”
“Barking up the wrong tree.” He managed a croaked laugh at his lame pun.
“You’re a real comedian.” She gripped his chin and forced his head up. “I see recognition in your eyes. If you’d just spill the name, your pain would be over.”
He flipped her the bird. “See this, too?”
Vash stared at the lycan with a clenched jaw, wondering if he could possibly be responsible for the death of her mate. It was a question that haunted her with every lycan she met. She had to believe the responsible party was still alive and out there somewhere, waiting for her to exact retribution for the atrocities committed against her beloved Charron. “How many vampires have you killed, dog?”
“N-not enough.”
“He’s young,” Salem said beside her, momentarily distracting her with his latest blinding hair color of primary blue. It was fortunate for him that he possessed classical bone structure; there was a regal quality to his handsome face that transcended whatever crayon hue adorned his head. He was also a badass motherfucker. If he hadn’t been, the bull’s-eye on his noggin would have seen him killed long ago.
She examined the lycan’s face. Beneath the agony and exhaustion that marred it, she could see youth. Perhaps he was too young. “How old are you?”
“Suck my dick.”
Bending forward, she aligned their gazes. “I’m teetering on the brink of releasing you, stupid. Don’t fuck it up.”
The redhead glared. “Fifty.”
Not him. He would have been a five-year-old pup at the time of Char’s death. She yanked her blade out of the tree and watched the lycan crumple to the forest floor. “Go to the asshole who kidnapped my friend. Tell him Vash is coming for him. Tell him he can meet me like a man, or he can cower like a dog and find himself with my blade in his back.”
The lycan’s skin began to ripple with the shadow of fur, a last-ditch attempt to save himself by shifting into his lupine form. In the process, his altering flesh would knit back together faster than it would without a shift.
“You’re letting him go?” Raze asked, his massive biceps bulging as he cleaned the lycan blood from his blade.
“If he makes it out of the woods alive, he deserves to die another day.”
She turned away and began tracking the path the two lycans had taken as they fled from her. The two Fallen captains fell into line behind her.
A mile away, Raze caught her arm and looked down at her through his sunglasses. Vash was a tall woman, but the captain towered above her. “Syre wanted us to bring the lycans back to Raceport.”
“That one isn’t going to crack, not even for Syre. If we want him to be useful, we need to give him his freedom.”
“The chances of him making it back to civilization are practically nonexistent,” Salem pointed out drily.
Her returning smile was grim. “He’s motivated. He was willing to die to protect whoever it is we’re after. He’s going to want to get back and give a heads-up that we’re coming, and when he does, he’ll lead us right to the one we want. If necessary, we’ll help him along and make sure he survives long enough to give us a trail.”
They located the remnants of the lycan’s clothing two miles farther. In his pants pocket, they found his wallet. Pulling out his Mitchell Aeronautics identification card, Vash smiled and waved it. “I thought so. His home address is Angels’ Point. I knew Adrian was involved. Now maybe we’ll be able to prove it.”
“Mr. Mitchell.”
Adrian paused as he moved past the Mondego’s registration desk. “Yes?”
The front desk clerk reached for the phone. “Mr. Gadara would like to see you when you have a moment.”
He gave a curt nod and continued toward the elevators. His cell phone beeped with a text message just before the doors opened. He pulled it out of his pocket as he stepped inside the waiting car.
The principal’s on the move, via Gadara. Heading to airport to intercept, but may have to follow to CA. Will report ASAP.
Because he was partially distracted by planning the logistics of the hunt for Helena and her lycan, it took Adrian a split second to register who’d texted—Elijah—and who the principal was—Lindsay. “Shit.”
He thrust his hand out just before the doors slid closed, then exited the car in a rush. “I’ll see him now,” he said to the front desk clerk, who directed him to another elevator, which required a key code from the occupant or the front desk to activate it.
The elevator had only two stops—Raguel’s office and the roof. The doors slid open directly into a massive reception area that kept visitors at bay until Raguel was ready to receive them. Adrian set the bag of food on the receptionist’s desk, then walked right through to Raguel’s office.
“Adrian.” Raguel rose gracefully to his feet from behind his desk and waved off his secretary with an insolent flick of his wrist. Behind him, a wall of windows offered a panoramic view of the city, creating an impressive backdrop for the overly ambitious archangel. “I am afraid the test results have yet to come back.”
“You’re fucking with the wrong seraph.”
“Ah, I see.” Raguel’s smile was knowing. “You are here about Ms. Gibson. I had assumed your thoughts were focused on more pressing matters.”
“Right now my thoughts are focused on making your life hell. You don’t want me to do that. Where is she?”
“There is no emotion at all in your voice, yet your words are so fierce. Which is it, Adrian? Does Ms. Gibson’s departure truly upset you, or have you simply failed to acquire suitable social skills?”
“You can’t bait me, Raguel. Where is she?”
The archangel sank back into his seat with an elegant economy of movement. “She took my helicopter to the airport, where I believe she intends to catch a flight to California. She was most eager to begin her work as the Belladonna’s assistant general manager.”
“Your interference in my matters is exceptionally foolhardy. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I had no right to detain her. Once she stated her desire to leave, I had no choice but to allow her to go. What would you have had me do? Restrain her?”
Adrian’s back rippled with his aggravation. “You didn’t have to assist her.”
“She works for me. How could I not help her when she asked?”
“Did she ask? Or did you offer?”
“What does it matter? She accepted eagerly.” Raguel’s smile was filled with calculation.
Pulling out his phone, Adrian sent a quick text to Elijah. Find the principal. Protect her until further notice.
“I am more than happy to lend you my helicopter as well,” Raguel offered.
“Perhaps. If something pressing comes up.” He was almost decided that he shouldn’t go after Lindsay even when it became possible for him to do so. She would be safer if he stayed away. He no longer needed her to lure Syre—the vampire leader was giving him all the excuse necessary without her help.
And maybe letting Shadoe go was the lesson he’d never learned. Maybe she’d been his test at selflessness and he’d failed to pass it over and over again. Maybe freeing both Shadoe’s soul and the vessel carrying it was the true sacrifice he was expected to make. There was no reason Lindsay Gibson couldn’t live a life separate from him. He’d given her the choice between relative normalcy—a secular job and the cessation of her hunting—or training with him. If she’d chosen the former, there was no good reason for him not to let her go. He knew where she was; he could keep Syre away from her until the time came when he could end this.
That time was coming soon. Very soon.
In the interim, he had Helena to contend with. Finding her wasn’t something he would delegate to anyone else. He respected his Sentinels too much to not see to them personally. And when he did find her and separate her from her lycan, it would be best if he could look her in the eye and tell her that he’d made the same sacrifice to his happiness that he was demanding she make to hers.
“You surprise me,” Raguel murmured. “You have risked so much for something you relinquish so easily.”
“You don’t know me, Raguel.” He pivoted to leave the room. “But I know you. Your ambition will be your downfall. Especially if you make an enemy of me.”
“I believe you will find,” the archangel called after him, “that I am a friend worth having in your corner.”
“Unlike you, I don’t have a corner.” Adrian stepped into the elevator and faced Raguel, baring his teeth in a feral smile. The archangel’s territory extended only across North America; Adrian had no such limits.
The elevator doors closed, shutting out the look of sharp consideration on Raguel’s face.
Shadoe had never run from Adrian before. From the first time she’d seduced him past all restraint, rules, and better sense, she had been ferociously determined to keep him enthralled. It had taken her a long time to break him down initially, a relentless and passionate assault on his senses that led to him falling on her in a mindless rut, driven past all reason. Since then, her incarnations had been consummate seducers and she’d relished his every surrender.
Until now.
Now he was alone, stripped of the people he’d relied on for support. First Phineas. Then Simone. Lindsay’s departure was equally hard to take. He’d found comfort in her presence and he missed her already. But Adrian refused to allow his losses to impact his ability to carry out his mission.
He did concede, however, that they were likely the first of many signs that his retribution was nigh.
Lindsay was still kicking herself when her plane landed at John Wayne Airport. It wasn’t like her to run. She was a doer. A woman who faced things head-on. She didn’t like leaving things to chance or not knowing the score.
Yet the minute an escape route had been opened to her, she’d bolted. Not because she was frightened. No—that was a lie. Everything about Adrian Mitchell scared the shit out of her. The way he affected her was damn scary. She was so used to making do by herself, keeping to herself, and he got under her skin so deeply, she was already beginning to forget what it felt like without him there. She couldn’t forget, however, what it felt like to be herself. The experience had been freeing, and now she was returning to the cage of the “real” world.
The sense of loss was almost like grief.
But she would learn to deal with it. Having Adrian’s soul on the line was powerful motivation. He was too valuable to waste on her.
The wind, that fickle bitch, taunted her with soft whispers. Adrian . . . Go back to Adrian . . .
“Fuck you.” She exited the terminal with no more than the designer clothes on her back, her cell phone and emergency charger she’d bought at McCarran Airport, and a ridiculous amount of cash in her messenger bag. She intended to pay back every penny she spent, but she hadn’t had the luxury of leaving the money behind. Not while Adrian had her suitcase at his house. Which made it inevitable that she’d see him again. At the very least she had to retrieve her luggage. She could ask him to send someone down the hill with it and spare them both the awkwardness, but she wouldn’t. They had unfinished business, and he deserved the courtesy of hashing it out in person.
She headed to the nearest taxi stand. For a single surreal day, Adrian’s life had felt like it could be her life. But that was a ridiculous fantasy. His existence was filled with private jets, presidential suites, Maybachs, a home that was showcased on television, dragons, demons, vampires that foamed at the mouth, skies filled with angels, guys that turned into wolves, and regenerating limbs. Meanwhile, she was a mentally scarred, slightly crazy, middle-class mortal with a death wish. Nary the twain shall meet.