“Cade!” Abigail’s psychic shout stabbed into his brain as he lay on his side, spooning Val’s sleeping warmth. “You’ve got company!”
He rolled out of bed before he was even fully awake, lunging for the sword and shield he’d left propped beside the bed. After Hirsch’s attack at the motel, he’d made sure his weapons were always close at hand.
Throwing his mind out in a quick scan, he frowned. Ridgemont was nowhere around. “Who is it?” he demanded, putting down his weapons to grab a pair of jeans and shove his legs into them.
Val jolted awake, lifting her head in alarm. “What? What’s happening?”
“Ridgemont’s sent a hit squad.” Abigail flashed them images of men, at least thirty of them, all with AR-15 semiautomatic rifles. They’d broken into teams -- one to disable the security system, one to search the house, another to surround it and block escape. A smaller squad was creeping up the hallway even now.
“Hell, Abigail, it would have been nice to have a little warning before they were in the damn house!” Cade lunged toward the door, where he could hear a gang of men on the other side, about to break it down. There was no time to get the guns out of the closet. He’d have to make do with his sword.
“I was Beyond! I didn’t sense them until now.”
“Dammit. Where’s Hirsch?”
“Not here.”
Judging from the sunlight pouring through the stained-glass windows, it was afternoon. Probably didn’t want a tan. “Get behind the bed and hit the floor,” he instructed Val. “There’s going to be gunfire.”
He jerked open the bedroom door and lunged. His sword speared through body armor into the chest of the man who was about to force his way in. The merc howled in agony as Cade picked him up on his blade like a cocktail sausage and thrust him into his mates, who instinctively grabbed him with startled shouts.
This bunch had come into his house to kidnap his woman. Their lives were bought and paid for.
Pivoting, he slammed his shield into the face of the nearest mercenary as the man took aim. Blood sprayed. The gunman toppled, dead before he hit the floor. Cade jumped between the three remaining invaders, snarling into their terrified faces with bared fangs.
In this situation, the mercs’ numbers worked against them. They couldn’t shoot those high-powered weapons without risking the bullets would punch right through Cade and into their own allies.
So for thirty crucial seconds, they held their fire. The closest lashed out with a rifle butt, but Cade was quicker. His fist shattered the mercenary’s skull. Blood and gore splattered his face as the weapon hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter. It went off, firing a volley of bullets as mercenaries dove aside.
“Fuck!” somebody screamed. Cade’s shield jolted and rang in his hand as one of the three surviving mercs panicked and fired his AR-15 into it. The shield had been designed for vampire combat, and its space-age alloy surface didn’t even dent. But the merc adjusted his aim and fired again, and this time the bullet grazed Cade’s thigh. He snarled in rage, swinging his sword as he whirled. The blade bit deep and the invader screamed and toppled.
But before Cade could finish off the last two men, the rest of the team thundered into the hallway from the opposite direction. “Shit!” one of them gasped as they took in the carnage.
Cade brought up his shield and bared his teeth at them from behind it. Doing a silent count, he felt his heart sink. There was at least eight of them. There was no way he could take them all before they blasted him to hell and gone. And if they put enough bullets in his chest to destroy his heart…
Immortal or not, he was dead.
* * *
Cringing at the sound of screams and gunfire from the hallway, Val crawled on her hands and knees toward the closet. She was damned if she was going to cower under the bed while Cade fought for their lives.
As she hoped, she found Cade’s athletic bag sitting in the floor next to his tall leather boots. She thought she’d spotted a sawed-off shotgun in the bag the last time he’d opened it.
When she unzipped it, Val sighed in relief. There was the shotgun, short, black, and deadly in its nest of money. She grabbed it. Spotting a nine-millimeter half-buried in the cash, she scooped that out too, made sure the safety was on, and stuffed it down the front of her jeans. Shotgun aimed and leading the way, she scuttled toward the door, bent double to avoid any random bullets from the hall.
As her heart pounded in hard, sickening lunges, Val peered around the doorframe, praying none of the mercs would shoot her by mistake before she shot them on purpose.
Bare-chested and blood-splattered, Cade fought a mob of black-clad men, pivoting and lunging as he chopped his sword into the invaders like Conan the Barbarian in a really bad mood. Several bodies lay at his feet, none of them moving. Arcs of blood flew in the air with each slash, splashing the white walls. Huge, spreading pools of crimson soaked the cream carpet.
We’re going to have a hell of a time cleaning that up, Val thought, with the illogic of shock.
“Fall back!” somebody bellowed. “We need some fucking room!”
She ducked behind the doorframe and flattened her back against the bedroom wall, her shaking hands clenched around the shotgun. If she opened fire, she could hit Cade. But if she didn’t… Cautiously, she peered around the corner.
The men around Cade tried to back off, three going one way, two the other. He pounced on the pair, bringing his sword across in a hard, diagonal slash that took both men down.
Behind him, one of the retreating trio spun and lifted his rifle.
The three mercs were standing so close together, she thought their bodies would protect Cade if she fired. Without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Val leaped into the hallway. She met the startled gaze of one of the squad less than a foot away and fired.
The pellets punched into him. A sickening rain of blood arced across Val’s face as he screamed, half blinding her, but she was already blasting the second attacker. One to g…
An AR-15 fired twice in a thunderous, rolling boom. With an agonized yell of her own, Val scrubbed a hand desperately across her eyes, trying to wipe away the sticky blood. The smell made her stomach heave. Blinking hard, she managed to clear her vision just enough to see the two she’d shot were down.
So was Cade.
Throwing aside the now-useless shotgun, she jumped over the bodies of the dead men and ducked around the third assassin, who’d shot her lover. The merc pointed his weapon at her, but held his fire. Val couldn’t have cared less.
Cade lay sprawled across one of the fallen mercenaries. He must have rolled or bounced, because the bastard had shot him in the back. The wound in his abdomen looked the size of her fist, bloody, revealing cracked ribs. Something bubbled.
“God, Cade…” she moaned.
The muzzle of a gun nudged her back. She froze.
“Okay, bitch,” said the merc who’d shot Cade, “hands up before I --”
Cade spat blood and gasped. “You. Freeze.”
Licking her lips, Val dared a glance over her shoulder. For a moment all she could see was the muzzle of the AR-15 yawning like the pit of hell, but she managed to drag her gaze to the mercenary who held it. He was staring down at them with wide, panicked eyes, still holding the gun. She jerked away from the muzzle, but he didn’t move. With a sigh of relief, Val realized Cade must have used his power to lock every muscle in the merc’s body.
Staring into the man’s beefy face, she felt her lips peel back from her teeth. This bastard had shot Cade in the back. Her hand went to the grip of the pistol in her waistband and jerked it free. She leveled it right between his wide hazel eyes.
“Better not, bitch.”
At the strange male voice, Val whipped around. “Oh, hell,” she whispered. A fresh crowd of mercenaries stood in the hallway. Reinforcements.
One of them aimed his gun at Cade. “Put it down or we’ll see if the vampire can heal a missing head.”
Acid invading her mouth, Val threw down her gun and raised her hands. The mercenaries advanced cautiously, wary eyes on Cade, guns leveled and ready. Their leader grabbed her wrist and hauled her roughly to her feet. She gasped as a shaft of pain stabbed up her arm from his grip.
A low growl rumbled. Despite the bloody hole in his belly, Cade snarled up at the mercenary, fangs bared. The big man stepped quickly back, dragging Val with him.
“Look, buddy, don’t push it,” the merc told him, aiming his weapon between those blazing brown eyes. The guy was damn near as big as Hirsch, with iron gray hair that stood up in untidy, sweaty spikes. Despite his size, his beady blue eyes were nervous on Cade’s savage face. “Mr. Hirsch wants to do you personal, but if you try me, we’ll put so many bullets in you you’ll clank when you walk.”
She wondered why Cade didn’t compel him to let them both go, then realized that even if the leader had tried to give that order, the others wouldn’t have obeyed. Especially if they’d been warned about vampire abilities.
When Cade only lay there and panted, his black eyes feral, the merc commander nodded in satisfaction. “Smart choice, vamp. Now, you just stay there and bleed.” Hauling her with him, he backed down the hall, waving to his men to accompany them.
A growl rumbling in his throat, Cade lifted his head to watch them go. For an instant his eyes met Val’s, and she saw the agony in them. His voice was too hoarse to hear, but she could read the movement of his lips: “I love you.”
Before she could sob a reply, the merc leader stopped in his tracks, jerking her to a halt. He swore. “We’ve got cops on the way. Move it.” Val noticed the spiral cord of an earpiece looping into his collar. He must be wearing a radio.
The whole pack surged down the hall. As they dragged Val with them, she stared over her shoulder at Cade. Bloody and helpless though he was, his hot black eyes shot her a fierce message she could almost hear: I will save you.
“Get a move on.” The merc gave her wrist a jerk that almost pulled her arm out of its socket. “We don’t have time for longing looks.”
“What about the wounded, sir?” a tall Black mercenary asked, hurrying behind them.
“If we hang around here trying to move ‘em all, we’ll be ass-deep in law before we’re finished,” the leader grunted. “Let the cops take care of ‘em. They won’t talk.”
“Jameson isn’t even hurt.” the merc pointed out.
The leader glanced toward the merc Cade had immobilized and shrugged. “We’d still have to carry him. And he’s still an insubordinate piece of shit I’m really sick of. Sirens gettin’ closer, boys. Let’s go.”
Hope stirred faintly in Val. Apparently the police were on their way, no doubt alerted by some neighbor who’d heard World War III going on next door.
And that meant Cade was safe. The cops would make sure he got a blood transfusion. Considering his vampire recuperative powers, by tomorrow night he’d have healed his injuries.
It should be obvious the mercenaries had broken in, and as a homeowner attacked in his own house, Cade wouldn’t be charged with killing them. But the police could and probably would detain him for hours with uncomfortable questions like, “Why the hell did a gang of mercs attack your house? Are you a drug dealer or what?”
He might be able to magic his way out of custody if he could get hold of a commanding officer he could compel, but if a group ganged up on him, he wouldn’t be able to quash the investigation.
In any case, he wouldn’t be able to mount a rescue until tomorrow night at the earliest. The thought of what would happen to her in the hours until then made her feel sick and cold.
Damn it, she should have tried to persuade Cade to Turn her earlier.
On the other hand, at least if he came after her tomorrow, there’d be no time for Ridgemont to finish the process either. But what if the monster killed him during the rescue attempt?
It might be better if Cade didn’t try to get her back. If he died, they’d have no hope at all. But if he waited long enough, she’d eventually be able to free herself from Ridgemont’s control. It might take a century or so, but she’d manage sooner or later. Then they could figure out a way to kill the bastard. She could withstand a century of abuse if she knew she had Cade waiting at the end of it.
Unfortunately, Val knew him a little too well to believe he’d just leave her in his sire’s hands. He’d attempt a rescue, even knowing he couldn’t possibly win. And if Cade died, she might as well die herself. In fact, judging by the images Abigail had shown her, she’d probably long for death before Ridgemont got through with her.
And what about her sister? Would the vampire leave Beth alone once he had Val, or would he come after her too?
Had she lost everyone she cared about?
As Val’s thoughts churned in despair, the mercenaries hustled her outside to a huge white moving van parked at the mouth of the garage. They’d backed the truck in so closely the men could enter and leave without the neighbors realizing they were carrying enough firepower to invade Mexico. Craning her neck as the men filed on board, she saw the truck’s back gate was lowered, revealing the bench seats, communications equipment, and weapons racks that filled it.
Val’s captor pushed her down on one of the benches and sat down beside her as the rest of the men settled in. Sunk in misery, she barely noticed when they closed the gate and the van lurched down the curving driveway.
Closing her eyes, she fought tears, knowing that even as they drove away, Cade lay helpless in his own blood.
* * *
Pain blazed through Cade’s chest in throbbing waves. He gritted his teeth and ignored it. The bullet had done extensive damage to his stomach and intestines. He had to focus all his power on stopping the blood loss before he passed out. He’d do Val no good if he dropped dead in mid-rescue. But he’d damn well better get himself healed as fast as possible. Every second added to the time Val was at her captors’ non-existent mercy.
Focusing his power despite the waves of pain ripping through him, he managed to block off the hemorrhaging filling his abdomen with blood. God willing, he could hold the psychic bandages long enough to let him get somewhere he could concentrate on more permanent repairs. Of course, his body would eventually heal the damage on its own, but that would take time Val couldn’t afford.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Cade could hear the distant wail of sirens. Fortunately, the house was so far out in the country, it would take sheriff’s deputies another ten minutes to arrive on the scene. He just hoped he’d have enough time to get into hiding.
Which meant he’d need the help of his would-be murderer. The mercenary still stood there in the hallway like an abandoned android, paralyzed by Cade’s last compulsion. You must have been a real pain in your commander’s ass to get left with me, Cade thought in grim amusement. Guess that makes you lunch.
He eyed his captive. The merc had a stone killer’s hard, square features, but oddly, his hair was carrot red, and freckles speckled the bridge of his nose. Despite the Opie Taylor coloring, he was a big bruiser, just under six-foot six, with the thick, powerful musculature of a body builder.
Just what Cade needed to get him the hell out of the house before the law arrived. “Help me up,” he ordered silently, diverting enough power from his injuries to make sure the man obeyed.
Eyes wide with terror, the mercenary knelt and looped Cade’s arm over his own shoulders, then wrapped a thick arm around his waist and heaved him to his feet. Agony detonated in Cade’s guts in waves of alternating heat and cold. Wheezing, he tightened his grip around the merc’s thick shoulders. “My sword and shield.” Blood surged against the patches he’d created. “Get ’em.”
As obedient as a robot, the merc bent and picked up the sword as Cade clutched his shoulder to keep from falling on his face. The man handed the weapon over, and he managed to force his weak fingers to close around the hilt. Collecting the shield, the mercenary straightened.
The hallway spun, and Cade had to fight back a wave of blackness. “Let’s go.” He wrapped his slick, bloody fingers more securely around his weapon.
The mercenary -- whose name was Hank Jameson, Cade saw from his thoughts -- obediently helped him stumble through the house. Each step set off rolling reverberations of agony, and he had to use every last erg of his power to keep blood from bursting through the patches.
It was a damn good thing Val had let him take her. Without the blood and energy she’d given him, he’d never have been able to hold himself together like this.
When they stepped outside into the morning sunlight, Cade hissed. As weak as he was, it was like walking into a furnace. He could feel his skin beginning to burn.
“The woods. Hurry.” The shade would give him at least some protection.
Rebellion stirred in Hank’s mind; he wanted to drop his erstwhile victim and run. Cade hastily diverted just enough power to drag him back into line.
One arm clamped around Cade’s waist, the other thrust through the straps of his shield, the mercenary reluctantly dragged him toward the tree line. Cade let Hank do all the work while he concentrated on controlling him while preventing any more blood from flooding from his wounded belly. Sweat poured down his face, both from effort and the sunlight that pounded on his unprotected head, but he scarcely noticed.
By the time they reached the trees, Cade was only distantly aware of their cooling shade. The police were less than a mile away. He wanted to get far enough into the woods that they wouldn’t be found until he was healed enough to send any searchers away. Mentally prodding Hank onward, he gritted his teeth against the pain as the big mercenary lengthened his stride.
* * *
When the mercenaries’ van stopped in front of the small brick ranch ten minutes from Cade’s home, Val was astonished. She’d expected to be loaded onto an airplane for the flight to New York.
Instead, the leader hustled her out of the van and through a carport entrance. She registered a small kitchen with battered white appliances before he shoved her through a doorway into a tiny den.
As Val regained her balance, she realized she wasn’t her captors’ only victim. Two young women, neither more than twenty, sat on a couch that looked as if it had come from a thrift store. Both girls had deep puncture wounds in their throats. Dressed for spring in shorts and tank tops that bared a constellation of bruises, they wore identical expressions of dazed suffering. Neither flinched when the mercenary forced Val down on the couch beside them. She winced at their blank, shocked stares and hunched poses. When she murmured a greeting, they didn’t respond, too dispirited -- or too dazed -- to care.
Glancing around, Val spotted a college chemistry textbook on the battered coffee table and a backpack lying on a flowered armchair. They must be students at the community college, renting this house for the semester.
Imagining her sister in their shoes, Val shuddered. I’ve got to keep Ridgemont and Hirsch from getting their hands on Beth.
Studying the nearest girl’s bruised, blank face, she wondered if there was something she could do to help the pair in the meantime. Though from what Cade had said, they’d probably be released eventually, if much the worse for wear. She herself was unlikely to be that lucky. Yet to do nothing…
Footsteps in the hall.
Val jerked her head up just as Gerhard Hirsch swaggered in, smug and grinning. “Hello, fraul…” He broke off in mid-word. Fury twisted his features.
She couldn’t help cringing as he strode toward her, moving with that oddly weightless grace that was the mark of vampire strength. “You whore,” he spat, grabbing her by one arm. “You’ve been fucking him! You’ve got his mark on your neck!”
Hirsch drew back his hand for a slap. Val threw up both arms to shield her head, but instead he transferred his grip to her hair and hauled her brutally off the sofa. She bit back a yelp of pain, damned if she’d give the bastard the satisfaction.
The German shoved his face against hers. She hunched her shoulders in revulsion as he drew in a deep breath, inhaling her scent.
When Hirsch pulled back, the fury had faded from his eyes. “His stink is all over you, but he hasn’t begun Changing you.” Slowly, tauntingly, he grinned. “Saving yourself for me, fraulein?”
* * *
Finally, Cade judged that they’d gone far enough into the trees. The deputies would have to separate to search the woods; anyone who might stumble over them this far out would probably be a lone man he could telepathically send somewhere else.
He sent the merc a mental command: “Put me down.” Hank obediently lowered him into a pile of leaves. Pain seared him as his body shifted position, but he gritted his teeth until he was finally prone. Blessedly still at last, Cade closed his eyes and panted for breath.
His skin was already stinging with a sunburn; it was mild enough now, but it wouldn’t be in a few hours. Luckily, yesterday he’d spotted the kind of tarp used to cover a swimming pool at one of the neighbor’s homes. He sent Hank an image of the sheet of plastic draped over the fence to dry. “Go get it.”
The big man set off at a jog, the compulsion planted so deeply he couldn’t have disobeyed if his life had depended on it.
While he waited for the mercenary to carry out his orders, Cade stared blankly at the painfully blue sky and concentrated on his telekinetic patches.
Finally, he heard the rapid thud of running combat boots. Hank skidded to a stop, looming over him like Frankenstein’s monster. Without wasting his breath on speech, Cade mentally instructed the merc to tent the tarp over his body. The big man got to work, draping the thick rubber sheet across a tree limb over his head and anchoring the corners with stones.
When he was done, Cade ordered Hank to crawl into the tent with him. So lightheaded with pain he could barely focus, he whispered, “Freeze.”
Instantly Hank’s body locked into place, eyes focused straight ahead, his face settling into expressionless lines belied by the stark panic he felt. Cade could have calmed his fear, but right now he needed the son of a bitch scared out of his wits. All that emotion made a good power source.
Safe now, Cade allowed himself to slide into a half trance as he spread a web of psychic energy over his shredded organs. It was a new experience for him; he’d rarely had to use his powers to accelerate the healing process. Ordinarily he’d just go to sleep and let any wounds take care of themselves, but he didn’t have time for that now. He had to recover as quickly as possible, no matter how much energy he had to burn to do it.
Luckily, the bullet had torn its way free when it had exited, but he still had the broken ribs and punctured organs to contend with. He went to work on forcing his body to heal. Sweat broke out on his face with the effort, and his head began to pound as he willed the torn flesh to knit.
He lost all track of time, rousing from his trance only long enough to use his powers on any deputies who wandered too close.
Despite the urgency of his situation, Cade’s mind kept drifting to Val. Where was she? Was she in Ridgemont or Hirsch’s hands -- and if she was, what were they doing to her? The raw panic triggered by that thought forced him to drive it from his mind. He had to save his own life before he could save hers. I’ll get to her in time, Cade told himself.
He had to.