Текст книги "Nauti Seductress"
Автор книги: Lora Leigh
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
THIRTEEN
“I have the information you requested earlier.” Eli was angry. “Do you want company?”
Doogan nodded. “Wait in the truck till I get there. I have a few things to check before we head out. Text me the information and I’ll be down when I’ve finished.”
Eli nodded. Glancing to Zoey’s door, he gave a shake of his head before turning to leave the living area.
“Eli?”
The young agent turned back to him slowly. “Yeah?”
“Stay angry all you want, but the insubordination is going to begin causing problems soon,” Doogan warned him. “It’s time to let it go.”
“Let it go.” Eli stared at him bitterly. “You think it’s that easy?”
“I didn’t kill her, Eli. I didn’t frighten our daughter to the point that she ran out in front of that car nor did I put that bullet in Catalina’s head. And I didn’t ask her to lie to her family. She was your sister, and I’ve tried to be patient because you were a fine brother-in-law. But it’s going too far. Protecting Zoey is all I care about at this point, and I need to know I can trust you to do that. I’d hope your anger toward me won’t affect that.”
Catalina’s lies and deceit during his marriage to her had nearly destroyed him. He hadn’t given a damn. Katie had been all that mattered to him by then, and she’d known it. Because of it she’d tricked the brother that resented him and tried to steal the child Doogan had loved.
“Zoey’s my friend,” Eli stated simply, and Doogan heard the loyalty he felt toward her.
“Let’s find out what the hell’s going on here, fix it for her, and then we’ll deal with the past,” he suggested. “Until then, let’s see if we can get along and do this right.”
Sliding his thumbs into his front pockets, Eli stared back at him for long, silent moments before he gave a short, decisive nod.
“Understood.” Eli nodded. “I’ll text that information as soon as I get downstairs. I’ll suit up and wait for you.”
Within minutes Doogan had all the information he needed and had dressed in the protective black mission clothes such as the ones Eli would be wearing.
Thigh holster, weapon, and extra clips were secured in place as well as various other backup weapons. Grabbing the rifle, he laid it on the bed and pulled his phone from the secured pouch attached to the thigh of the pants opposite the holster.
Pulling up the earlier contact, he texted.
Have a meeting. Cover Zoey, he ordered the shadow that had stood watch earlier. He knew it was Harley. Hell, he was 100 percent positive it was Harley, and he’d kick the boy’s ass once he showed himself.
Don’t you ever sleep? He could only imagine the quarrelsome tone.
Now!
Bullshit.
Doogan sighed, shaking his head.
Not debatable. Leaving in 20. Will inform Natches of your refusal should she be harmed, he informed the other man.
Fuck you! Will inform Natches of your sleeping arrangements!
Zoey won’t like that! 18 and counting, Doogan texted.
Not your fucking backup. The reply came quickly.
17, Doogan counted.
Fucker! The insult only had Doogan shaking his head.
AWOL, he reminded the other man. 16.
Been in place, asshole. Know you!
That had been Doogan’s assumption all along.
Never did like your ass!
Doogan snorted at the last message, shoved his phone back into the pocket, collected his rifle, and left the guest room where he’d stood it. Retrieving the earbud he’d connected to the listening devices and tied into his sat phone, Doogan secured it in his ear and strode to the staircase leading to the garage at the back of the warehouse where Zoey kept her motorcycle hidden.
He had a meeting with Billy Ray. From what he’d heard during Zoey and Natches’s confrontation, the bastard had crossed a line Doogan would make damned sure wasn’t crossed again.
“We have a problem.” The agent Doogan rarely saw in Eli snapped into place with a suddenness Doogan hadn’t expected as he eased the truck, lights out, along the back alley leading to Ray’s Garage and Motorcycle Repair.
“The truck isn’t here,” Doogan murmured while confirming the location of Billy’s phone. “Billy Ray’s inside.”
At least his phone was. Eli was certain Billy never left without his phone.
Flipping the truck’s lights on, Eli accelerated out of the alley onto the street at the end of the block and into the next narrow lane across from it.
“Would Natches have taken the truck?” Doogan questioned him, pulling the phone free of his mission pants.
“No way. They’d let their fists discuss the matter with his head and leave it there,” Elijah answered.
Know Billy Ray’s truck? Doogan texted quickly.
Just pulled in the lot.
Stolen.
“I’m calling Billy.” Eli had his phone in hand as he drove quickly through the back streets.
“The truck just pulled in at the store across from Zoey’s,” Doogan stated.
“Dude, what’s your truck doing at O’Riley’s?” Eli snapped. “And Natches will rip your ass for trying to run Zoey down earlier.”
Frantic shouts could be heard coming across the line.
“Not you?” Eli laughed; the amused sound was a sharp contradiction to his expressions. “Hell, son, you better collect that truck and get with Natches right real fast, you feel me? Looks like you’re gettin’ a hard-on for his niece that has nothin’ to do with the happy-happy.”
A second later Elijah disconnected the call.
“Billy just woke big brother.” Eli grimaced. “Not good.”
“In what way?” Doogan pulled his weapon, checked the clip, and snapped it back into place before chambering the first round.
“Big brother?” Elijah snorted. “Billy’s stepbrother is Jack Clay, a big-assed tattooed biker Zoey rides with from time to time. Badass.”
Doogan snorted as a text lit up the screen of his phone.
“Two men just exited the truck. Driver and passenger,” Doogan told Elijah.
Eli accelerated, sped through another alley, then turned quickly onto a silent residential street.
“We’re close, how do you want me to go in?” Eli questioned. “Billy Ray, Jack, and God knows who else will be about a minute behind us.”
“Pull onto the street next to Zoey’s,” Doogan ordered. “No doubt Dawg and the others will be there before long. I need to hide my presence there before they go searching the place.”
“Won’t happen, but I’ll go in and make sure Zoey stays put.” Eli breathed out roughly. “They’ll check on her, but they won’t check the place.”
“I would,” Doogan growled. There wouldn’t have been a chance in hell he would leave without checking the entire building, just to be certain.
“Trust me.” Eli grinned. “Better yet, bet me. I’m broke. Hundred bucks says they check on Zoey, period. They won’t search the place.”
The confidence in the younger agent’s tone had Doogan’s brows arching in doubt.
“They catch me there, you’ll be out of a job. How’s that?” Doogan countered as the truck turned onto the street he’d used earlier.
Grabbing the rifle from the back, Doogan moved from the vehicle as Eli slowed the truck. Using the trees as cover, he ducked and moved for the apartment. Slinging the rifle over his back as he ran, Doogan pulled his Glock from the holster and headed to the back of the warehouse.
He was slipping up the stairs at the back of the apartment after doing a quick check of the garage, when a heavy, booming knock began sounding at the front door, echoing into the earbud he wore.
Hell, Mackays hadn’t had enough time to get there.
Doogan was beginning to think Zoey’s life was far too exciting, even for him.
Ducking into the unused guest room, he slid into the large closet, removed the mission clothes, and grabbed his jeans, grimacing at the hard blows to the metal door he could still hear through the listening device.
Jerking the denim over his hips, he headed quickly back.
“Son of a bitch!” Zoey cursed as the sound of movement in her room assured Doogan the pounding at the door had finally woken her. “Billy Ray? I’ll kill your ass!”
She was definitely awake.
Moving to the door but keeping it closed for the moment, Doogan let a smile tip his lips. At least her life wasn’t boring . . .
FOURTEEN
Stomping to the front door, Zoey was ready to rip Billy Ray’s head off his shoulders and shove it up his ass. Or at least make him feel as though she had. Until she flipped on the security monitor and glimpsed the man actually pounding on the door while Billy Ray yelled at her again. Why the hell was Jack there?
Sliding the inside bolt free and keying in the security code, Zoey threw the door open.
“Jack.” She frowned up at the hard, tattooed all-around bad boy fiercely. “What the hell are you pounding on my door at three in the morning for?”
“Sorry, Zoey.” Jack frowned. “Had to make sure you were okay, sweetie. Can we come in?”
It was too early for any of this to make sense.
“You can.” She shot Billy a glare. “He can keep his ass outside for all the trouble he’s caused me tonight.”
Billy rolled his gray eyes at her, though concern filled his expression. “I didn’t do a damned thing, Zoey; you always think the worst.”
“Because you usually do the worst,” she snapped as Jack moved around her, striding into the apartment. “And what are y’all doing in my house at this time of the morning?”
Turning, she moved quickly along the short hall when she realized Billy’s stepbrother had disappeared.
Gripping the front of her knee-length robe, Zoey looked around the living area and, not seeing him, swung on Billy.
“Where did he go?” she demanded suspiciously.
Billy shrugged, frowning. “Probably checking the garage or something. Dammit, Zoey, we got problems here.”
“Dammit, Billy, you are a problem here, and evidently so is Jack.” Dammit, Doogan’s truck was in the garage.
“Zoey, it wasn’t me that tried to run you down tonight.” Billy stepped quickly in front of her, his expression creased in concern. “Listen to me, someone stole my truck and it’s been sitting in the store lot across the road, facing your place. Someone used my truck to try to hurt you.”
It hadn’t been Billy? She stared up at him, feeling shock rolling through her.
“It wasn’t you?” she whispered. “You weren’t just trying to play one of your stupid pranks?” Fear tightened in her belly.
“Dammit, Zoey, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he protested, his expression darkening painfully. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you. Elijah saw the truck when he drove by earlier and called me. Jack called Natches to let him know we thought someone was watching your place. That’s when Natches threatened to rip my dick off and shove it down my throat for trying to run you over earlier.” A shadow of remorse flickered in his gaze. “Zoey, girl, you know I wouldn’t even act like I was going to hurt you. You should have known that wasn’t me. Come on.” His voice lowered. “We’re friends, Zoey. I’d fight for you if I even suspected who did that.”
It wasn’t Billy? He hadn’t pulled out behind her and nearly run over the ass end of her car?
For a moment, shadows whirled through her mind and pain lashed at her senses, nearly stealing her breath.
“Get out of my house.” She could barely breathe enough to force the words past her lips. She had to get them away from her. Get Billy out before panic set in.
Turning, she moved to rush across the room to the metal staircase she assumed Jack would have used, when Billy gripped her arm and pulled her around.
“Don’t touch me!” Crying out, Zoey jerked away from him. “Get out, Billy. Now.”
“Zoey, listen to me . . .” He grabbed her arm again, confusion filling his expression.
At the sound of her cry, Doogan’s bedroom door flew open and before she could process how quickly he moved, he had Billy’s wrist in his hand, forcing him to release her before placing himself between them.
“Who the fuck are you?” Billy snarled.
It wasn’t Billy who had her attention, though. Jack Clay stood in the doorway, having obviously been in the room as well.
He’d known Doogan was there. He had known and they were obviously just chatting it up, no doubt about her and Billy’s stolen truck.
“Get them the hell out of my house, now,” she ordered Doogan, fear and fury clashing inside her. “Now. Or I will call Natches myself and have all of you thrown out.”
Fists clenched, her voice harsh from the tightness of her chest, she turned, stalked to her bedroom, and slammed the door closed.
Leaning against the closed door, Zoey dragged in a shaky breath. It was okay, she assured herself. This was all okay. Whoever stole Billy’s truck must have thought she’d realized it had been stolen. And leaving it at the store across from her home was coincidence. That was all. It was a deserted lot, dark and easy to slip away, perhaps steal another truck. It didn’t have anything to do with her. It didn’t have anything to do with the nightmares that seemingly had no basis in reality.
So why was she shaking? Why was panic tightening her chest and making it so hard to breathe? Why did she suddenly wish Doogan would just hold her and make it all go away?
Just for a little while . . .
–
Jack Clay, the tattooed biker, had arrived earlier than Doogan had expected. He hadn’t expected the other man to be in town for several more days. Before heading to Somerset, Doogan had called in markers rather than agents and favors over agency resources. His team was compromised by Mackays. That was a weakness now rather than the strength it would have been otherwise. He needed allies in Somerset outside the Mackays.
Mackays were damned fine allies whether they liked who they were backing or not. As long as the battle they were fighting was a mutual one, then Doogan knew they could be trusted. To a point.
This battle? Their love for Zoey would be a detriment. They’d jerk her away from him and hide her so deep he’d never find her. But they trusted Jack. Trusted him enough that when Jack called regarding his stepbrother’s truck and Jack had learned she and Natches had disagreed, as Natches described it, over how to approach Billy, Jack had suggested checking on her himself.
When Zoey had learned it hadn’t been Billy who had attempted to slam into the back of her little car, Doogan had seen those oddly colored eyes flash with a deep haunted fear.
Just as he’d feared last year, that sheer Mackay stubborn will and determined strength was overcoming the drug she’d been given and suggestions posed while she was under its influence. She was beginning to remember, but just enough of those suggestions remained that she was as yet unable to talk to anyone that could really help her.
The experts in that particular drug all agreed that all Doogan could do was ensure her trust in him and be there when the memories returned. When the trigger needed to push aside the suggestions and reveal the truth engaged, that he be there to help her through it. To help her distinguish between memory and fear. Something he’d been too late to do with his brother.
Damn Catalina and her traitorous lover. The bastard had ensured her guilt over the death of her daughter didn’t convince her to betray him by putting a bullet in her head. He’d killed her before escaping himself, his identity still unknown. All Doogan knew was the bastard had eventually made his way to Somerset, and to Zoey. The last person that could be taken from him. And he still didn’t know why. All he knew was that she was in danger because of him. And if he didn’t save her, then saving himself would be impossible. Losing her would be the final blow. It would kill him.
FIFTEEN
Zoey hadn’t slept well, but at least she hadn’t overslept. She was awake and dressed far earlier than she needed to be for a meeting with one of her buyers in Louisville the next day.
Meeting him alone wasn’t something she wanted to do, though. The past few years hadn’t been the safest for Dawg Mackay’s sisters.
Glancing at the clock, she sighed heavily. Doogan was gone, Eli hadn’t answered her earlier text, and everyone else in the family was gone to pick out supplies for the family reunion. That didn’t leave a lot of options.
Picking her phone up, she considered the only other male she knew who could be the least bit intimidating if he had to be. And after the night before, he owed her favors in spades.
“Zoey, you okay?” Billy answered on the first ring, his voice concerned.
“I’m fine,” she informed him shortly. “Look, I need a favor.”
“Whatever you need,” he promised.
“I have to meet a buyer with a few of my paintings and this is my last chance to sell to him. I’m not comfortable meeting him alone. Everyone else is busy . . .”
“Can I drive your car?” Eagerness filled his voice.
Everyone wanted to drive the little roadster she’d bought with its powerful little motor, especially Billy. He’d rebuilt the motor and customized the interior for himself before he was forced to sell it the year before. He jumped at every chance he could get to drive it. Hell, he begged to drive it sometimes.
“You can’t speed in my car, Billy.” She was resigned to this. The few times she’d asked Billy to go anywhere with her, the price was always her car. “I’ll drive over to your place. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Gives me time to clean up nice for you,” he laughed. “See you in a bit.”
She still had to wait for him, but not as long as she had to wait last time.
“Zoey, you’re my favorite girl-buddy,” he laughed, sliding over the door instead of opening it and settling into the driver’s seat.
“Knowing that makes my day,” she snorted. “I’m meeting the buyer in Louisville, and then we’ll stop in Danville so I can deposit the check.”
“Sounds great.” Running his hands over the leather steering wheel as a sigh of pleasure passed his lips. “Aint she just so pretty. Damn, Zoey, letting this beauty go hurt.”
“So you keep telling me.” She shook her head though she couldn’t hold back her grin. There was a reason why she let him drive the little car. He might get a little fast in it, but she knew he’d never risk actually wrecking the car he put so much time and love into. “Good thing you like driving her I guess, you’ll be behind the wheel for a while today.”
“Awesome,” Billy sighed, sliding the car into gear and accelerating away from the curb. “Man, I am so glad everyone else was busy.”
With the top down, a hard rock station on the satellite radio, and Billy’s smile of pure delight as he drove the sleek, little black two-seater, Billy headed out of town. It usually took a while for him to get over the boyish giddiness at driving the car. He wasn’t much for chitchat during those times. But Zoey found she wasn’t much for it herself. The night before had been too damned unsettling.
Her brother had made it to the apartment before Jack left, his pale green eyes somber and intent when he pulled her into his arms for a hard hug. Doogan had made himself scarce, making calls, he’d told her, while Dawg was there. Dawg had been unusually quiet though, his expression heavy, concern for her or suspicion she wasn’t certain. When he’d left he’d made her promise to call him if she even thought she needed him.
“Let me help you, Zoey,” he’d whispered as he hugged her, his voice quiet at her ear. “I swear, we’d work things out however you need. Don’t hide from me, sweetie.”
She’d wanted to sob against his chest, wanted him to help her. The closer she’d come to doing so, the heavier the pressure had built in her head, though.
The pain made no sense. Almost as though it were a programmed response.
The pressure was there now, just behind her temples, threatening to develop into the agonizing strikes of sickening pain.
Programmed.
Rubbing at her temples Zoey fought to find a way around it. Natches and Chaya played a little game whenever they couldn’t tell each other something directly. They proposed a little story to the other. A “what-if,” their daughter Bliss had laughingly confided. Zoey understood imagery, imagination, painting words into pictures, but she couldn’t find an image to push past the pain to the truth. If she could, she’d sketch it, paint it, give a picture to the hell she knew waited beyond the pain, then she’d do just that. She could face it, if she knew for certain what the truth was. Was it blood and death? Or was it a voice whispering in her ear, painting memories into her brain that weren’t really memories?
The pain was building in her head, sapping her strength, her ability to think.
Pushing back that particular angle of the problem facing her she turned back to Doogan instead.
He was there because of an investigation, he’d told her. Top-secret stuff she’d thrown at him, irritated at the answer. Somber, filled with regret, his gaze had remained on hers as he nodded at the description. Then he’d pulled her into his arms and drew her to bed. Not for sex, though. How he’d known she’d needed him to just hold her, just protect her for a few hours while she slept, she didn’t delve into at the time. But he’d done just that. He’d held her, his arms wrapped around her, her head tucked against his shoulder as he sheltered her while she slept.
Her thoughts held her until Billy pulled into the parking lot behind the gallery and activated the retractable roof to slide into place.
Davis Caston was waiting for her, just as he promised, a check already made out to her when she turned over the paintings. He eyed a quiet, brooding Billy warily.
She had to give Billy credit, though. Every time she’d asked him to accompany her anywhere, he’d always played Mackay bodyguard perfectly. Just as he did this time. Albeit silently. Mackays rarely did so silently.
Thanking the gallery owner as well as the buyer, Zoey felt satisfaction fill her. It had been months since she’d made a really good sale. And this one rated there at the top. She might even be able to squirrel a little away.
“We did good then?” Billy flashed her a smile as he opened the car door for her.
“Yes, we did. I can now officially pay my bills next month,” she stated happily, sliding into the passenger seat of the little convertible.
“And your loss in the race.” He winked cheerfully, closing her door and striding to the driver’s side. Minutes later, the top down once again, they were heading out of town to the bank Zoey used. One outside Somerset, and she always hoped, her family’s nosiness.
Billy cleaned up good, she admitted. Black jeans and a dark gray cotton shirt buttoned conservatively, the cuffs rolled back only twice and neatly at that. Dark blond hair, a little long with the slightest wave. At twenty-three, he was considered one of Somerset’s newest bad boys. Zoey considered him a friend, except on race nights.
On race nights she didn’t let friendship interfere.
“I’m going to beat your ass next race,” Zoey promised, smothering a yawn.
“Sure you will,” he laughed, glancing at her as she leaned her head against the headrest tiredly. “Take a nap, Zoey, I swear I won’t speed. I’ll wake you when we get to Danville.”
“Make sure of it,” she muttered, letting her eyes close as she slid her dark sunglasses over her eyes. “Or I’ll tell Natches.”
“You’d think those boys would get weaker as they got older,” Billy sighed. “I think they get stronger as they get older.”
Zoey had no doubt in her mind. They also got more protective and confrontational. Not to mention more nosey.
The lack of sleep the night before and the pure irritation had exhaustion tugging at her. With the easy speed Billy kept the car at and the warmth of the day, she was nodding off, slipping into a light nap despite her best intentions.
How long she’d slept, she wasn’t certain, but before she knew it they were pulling into the bank’s parking lot. Depositing the check, she glanced around the bank casually. She swore she could feel someone watching her. No one in the bank paid any attention to her, though. Shrugging the feeling away, Zoey collected her receipt and returned to the car. Once Billy got on the road again, she slipped back into a light nap.
She could hear the music, and Billy’s low voice as he sang along with it. She was comfortable, the music soothing. For a while.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Billy suddenly yelled, fury pulsing in his voice as the car surged with speed and her eyes snapped open in alarm.
“What . . . ? What the hell?” Zoey came awake in a snap as she was suddenly staring at a hole in her windshield.
“Get down!” Billy screamed furiously, shifting gears and pushing the little car harder.
Turning her head, Zoey peeked between the two sports seats, eyes wide as she saw the car racing behind them and the male passenger aiming at them with a handgun.
“Oh God!” Flipping around, she stared at Billy in horror. “Dawg . . . they’re all out of town, Billy. Dammit, I didn’t bring my fucking guns either,” she cried, suddenly terrified.
“Jack. Call him.” Tossing her his phone, his hand went back to the wheel, the other one shifting gears as the little car screamed around the curves. “He has friends close. Call!” he screamed as another shot hit the windshield.
“Billy?” Jack answered, his dark tone curious.
“Jack, help us!” Zoey yelled above the whine of the motor as the windshield shattered in front of her face. “We’re about three miles past the county line heading back from Danville in my car . . .”
The line disconnected.
“He hung up on me.” She turned shocked eyes on Billy. “He hung up on me.”
“He’s getting help!” Billy was fighting the steering wheel, pushing the car as hard as he could, the back end fishtailing around a hard curve. “Jack don’t waste time.”
She wished she’d texted Doogan before she left. Hell, now she wished she’d had Dawg go with her after all. No one would have dared attack her in this way.
Billy’s phone rang.
“Jack . . .” she answered desperately, nearly crawling into the floor as a bullet whined close to her ear.
“Zoey, listen to me.” Doogan’s voice was calm. “Billy’s coming up on a side road on his right. Take it.”
“Side road ahead on the right,” Zoey cried out as more shots rang out. “Take it.”
“Oh man, that road will kill the car . . .” he moaned.
“Take it!” she screamed as a bullet shattered the dash between them.
Billy cursed furiously as he slung the little car into the turn. The back end fishtailed as Billy fought the wheel, the veins in his neck standing out, a snarl on his lips.
“Jack there?” Billy yelled.
“He’s here,” Doogan answered.
“Yes,” Zoey answered, bracing herself with one hand on the dash, her feet digging into the floor as the car rocked, tires sliding before biting into asphalt and propelling the car forward.
“Oh, my poor car,” she cried as more shots rang out, pelting the back of the car as the pitted road banged the undercarriage.
“Zoey, ask Jack if he remembers what happened in San Diego,” Billy yelled.
Before she could ask, Jack’s voice came over the phone.
“Tell him I got it,” Jack growled. “You’re almost there, Zoey.”
“We’re almost there . . . Billy!” Turning, she saw his head slump. “Billy!” she screamed. “Oh God. Doogan . . .”
The car was still racing hard and fast as dozens of cycles poured from the trees bordering the road. Zoey ignored the sound of return gunfire and a crash of metal behind them as she fought to control the steering wheel.
Suddenly, a tall lanky body jumped from one of the cycles to the back of the car and lifted Billy, tossing him literally on top of Zoey as the other man slid into the seat and seconds later brought the roadster to a smooth stop.
Peeking over the unconscious Billy’s shoulder, she stared at the biker. Frosty blue eyes filled with joy, he was young, maybe Billy’s age. A do-rag covered his hair; a teardrop was tattooed beneath his left eye.
“Motor still sounds good.” His deep baritone voice was a complete shock. “The body, though.” A crooked grimace pulled at his lips. “Maybe Natches’s boys can fix it.” He grinned. “Come see me if they can’t, we’ll work something out.” A wicked wink and he brought his boot-shod feet up to her seat and launched himself smoothly from the car.
Helping hands pulled Billy from her, rushing him to a van as Doogan strode across the small clearing toward her.
He was in Brom clothes, dammit.
He moved to the car, leaned against the frame of the shattered windshield, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Dawg is probably going to have those pups now,” he stated calmly.
She craned her neck to stare behind her at the men being dragged from the other car and thrown over the shoulders of two of the larger members of Jack Clay’s group and carted off.
Zoey’s teeth clenched. “The world just ain’t right anymore.”
“Hmm.” He nodded. “I guess we better get the blood cleaned off you before Dawg . . .”
Blood?
There was blood?
It was everywhere. So much blood.
Zoey screamed.
The blood was on her hands, on the knife. . . .
Harley.
She couldn’t escape the sight of the scarlet fluid. It soaked his shirt, her hands.
She screamed his name. The knife fell from her hands and there, coating her palms, was the crimson proof of her crime. Or was it?
She stared at her hands, only vaguely aware of Doogan rushing her from the car and into the cool silence of the woods surrounding them. Jack Clay moved ahead of them, his expression hard-core pissed off from what she saw of it. When she saw it.
The images shooting through her head like crazy fireflies were far more terrifying than the nightmare. They flashed between nightmare and memory, strangling her with fear and pain, paranoia and fury.
Tied to the bed, helpless, gagged. The syringe pushing into her arm, the drug the color of sunlight as it was pushed from the plunger into her vein. And once it hit her system, it boiled in her blood, like lava inching through her, ripping through her mind with agony. She tried to scream, but the sound was blocked, smothered by the gag over her mouth. Instinct had her fighting, her fingers curling into claws, fighting to reach the smirking, malicious face of the bastard staring down at her.
She stared into the eyes of the man drugging her. Ice blue, a jagged scar running down his face. She knew him. He’d been there at the party the night she had danced with Doogan. There hadn’t been a scar, but she remembered his face and his eyes, and the malevolence that filled them.
And when his partner stepped to the bed and straddled her, she stared into his green eyes, into a face from the past. He’d smiled. He’d enjoyed her pain, enjoyed making certain it hurt as much as possible.
