Chapter Fifteen

“SHE has Avery, Mrs. Peggs.” Visceral panic, panic like he’d never felt before, coursed through him. Avery. It didn’t even seem possible that she’d be so devious. But of course she was. She’d managed to find him. She had to also have figured out who Tyson cared about, and that probably made her angry enough to lash out.

“Who has him?” Mrs. Peggs looked at the picture of a bound and drugged Avery and gasped.

“Clara.”

He’d spent so many decades wishing he’d never met her, that whatever fleeting romance they’d shared had never existed. He would’ve rather been alone than deal with her manipulations. Tyson had cared for her once, but that was a long, long time ago. Mostly now all he felt was contempt. And loathing. Well, add fear to that list. Clara had never been hesitant to kill someone, and she had the man he was falling for—the man he wanted to be with more than anything, even though he’d pushed Avery away. He could’ve been with Avery all those weeks when he’d sat in his library, sure in his correct decision and completely unhappy.

What was I thinking?

“What on earth is she doing with him?” Mrs. Peggs asked. “Does she want you back?”

Tyson gave her a sour laugh. “No. She wants the mine… and attention, because she could never survive without that, but mostly the mine.”

Mrs. Peggs gasped.

“Exactly. She has him in Rome. I’m leaving as soon as I can get a plane out of here.”

First he had to search for his passport. He always got them updated with new birthdates and current pictures—which had almost bitten him in the ass a few weeks ago. Tyson hoped the day never came that his forgers wouldn’t be able to keep up with the border technology. So far it hadn’t.

“Do you want me to find you tickets?” she asked.

“No. I’m going to charter a jet. I can’t deal with public airports right now.”

There were lots of advantages to money, but not flying commercial when he didn’t want to? That was probably the best one. He didn’t take jets all the time—they were rather extravagant, after all, but in emergencies, well…. Obviously, this was definitely an emergency.

“I’ll just pack a bag, and damn…. What am I doing?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll deal with the airplane. I’m better at it, anyway.”

Mrs. Peggs had managed to procure him last-minute travel more times than he could count.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Go pack a bag, find your passport, and I’ll get a car and a jet ready for you.”

BY the time he left New Orleans, the sun was rising high in the sky. It was a clear day, and unusually crisp. Tyson tried to concentrate on the sky so he didn’t spend the entire flight to Dulles ready to scream his way out of his skin. They had to make a pit stop in DC to top up on fuel, and then they were on their way. He had a long, long day ahead of him. He wanted to try to sleep so he’d have his wits about him when he got there, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to. He just kept getting the picture out, the one where Avery was tied up on the bed in a room he recognized very well. Avery looked asleep. Or drugged. Tyson’s heart constricted.

He’d probably been right to push Avery away in theory. Keep him from getting involved in all of this. But it hadn’t helped. He and Avery were going to have a long talk after he dealt with Clara. And maybe if he gave Clara what she wanted, some of their relationship problems would be gone soon. Tyson would be normal. Even though that thought terrified him. Not as much as the thought of what Clara could do to Avery, but still. It did.

When he finally touched down in Rome, it was midmorning. They’d made good time, but it didn’t feel like it. Tyson realized he’d never known true panic until he saw that picture of Avery tied up and helpless. Clara knew he was coming, and he had a car waiting for him at the gate, but he was still anxious she’d get impatient and just kill Avery. She’d done things like that before, after all.

He’d drawn a map on the way to Rome and written up and signed papers handing over his mineral mine to her. The official deed was in a bank in London, but he’d get to it eventually if it came to that. He’d do anything to save Avery, even if it terrified him. He seriously hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The ride through Rome was hectic as usual, especially with the typical big city traffic. His apartment wasn’t very close to the airport, and it took nearly an hour to get there. By the time they pulled up in front of the building, Tyson jumped out and was ready to sprint up the stairs.

His heart pounded in his chest. He was sweating and more scared than he could remember being in decades, if not centuries. He needed to get to Avery before Clara did something permanent to him. He needed to save the man he loved.

Tyson stopped dead in the hallway right outside the door of his Roman flat.

Loved.

He loved Avery.

Of course he did. And he’d do anything in his power to make sure at least one of the two of them came out of this alive and on his way home to New Orleans.

TYSON hadn’t been in this particular apartment in a very long time. A decade at least. He’d managed it from a distance, gotten upgrades, and rented it out for vacationers, but the most he’d seen were pictures. It felt like walking back in time a little—well, at least a different version of time. He didn’t know where Clara was, but he knew where Avery was. The picture had been of a little utility room Tyson had turned into a third bedroom in case the renters had kids. The room didn’t have any windows, but it wasn’t bad, just a little cramped. At least it wouldn’t be if Avery wasn’t in there tied up. He gulped. His stomach sank for the thousandth time since he realized what had happened.

Tyson usually tried for tact, but he was tired of Clara’s shit. He barged through the apartment to the tiny room and kicked open the locked door. He knew he’d be able to find a key somewhere, but he didn’t fucking feel like bothering. Clara wasn’t in there. To Tyson’s great relief, however, Avery was.

Avery was curled up on the bed with his arms behind him. On first glance the room was empty aside from him. Tyson rushed forward.

“Avery!”

Avery looked up and shook his head. He struggled to a sitting position. “What are you doing here?” he asked. He looked surprisingly less than pleased to see Tyson.

“We need to get you out of here. I don’t want you to be here when Clara gets back.”

“Gets back from where?”

The voice at the door was familiar—of course, it hadn’t been very many days since he’d heard it last. He hoped the next time he heard it was never.

“Clara. Lovely to see you again. I feel like we just said goodbye.”

“Ah, yes. When you charmingly tried to get rid of me with the law. Good attempt. Next time, you might want to stick around longer and make sure you really know how to hit. You don’t.”

Of course he’d been so eager to dodge questions, he’d let her get away. He would have been able to avoid this whole damn fiasco if he’d been smarter. “Let him go, Clara. This is just between me and you.”

“You know what you have to do. Let’s not draw this out unnecessarily. I’m really not one for theatrics… appearances notwithstanding.”

Tyson pulled a rumpled paper from his pocket. “Is this what you want? A map to the mine? The deed is at my bank in London, but I can get that to you too. You just have to let Avery go first.”

“Pardon me if I don’t trust you.” She swept her dark hair over her shoulder. Tyson knew that gesture like one of his own. She’d done it for hundreds of years. It used to drive him wild to see her long, pale, graceful neck. She was a beautiful woman. Too bad she was a conniving snake. It had taken Tyson far too long to realize that.

“Pardon me if I don’t trust you either.”

Clara pulled a gun out from the waistband of her curve-hugging jeans. “Give me the papers.”

Avery’s eyes bugged out, and he scooted as far away from her as he could get. Tyson walked quietly over and held out the papers. Sometimes it was best to treat Clara like a spooked wild creature. She had never been taught to trust anyway.

“Here. This is everything you need to get to the mine. Give me the keys to Avery’s handcuffs.”

Clara grabbed the papers out of his hand. Then she cocked the gun and pointed it at Avery. “Right. You’d have to be some kind of a moron to think I’d really turn him over to you so you two could go waltzing off into the sunset with your papers in the bank. Oh, wait. I forgot you sometimes can be one.” She sighed like a bored teenager. “I’m so tired of this part of the game. Can we get rid of this distraction?”

Everything happened like it was slow motion. Clara went to shoot, Avery rolled off the edge of the bed and onto the ground, and Tyson lunged and knocked the gun out of her hand so the bullet shattered into the plaster of the wall. Then he kicked the gun away and straddled her hips. Clara fought, she was always a good fighter, but she was half the size of Tyson on a good day, and she’d obviously spent quite a few days without any of the minerals in her system. She didn’t have much chance to stop him when he pulled the keys out of her pocket.

“Babe. Come over here.”

AVERY wriggled his way over, and Tyson unlocked his cuffs. He felt a relief that he’d never felt before—it burned behind his eyes.

Don’t you dare cry….

The woman beneath Tyson was beautiful, but she looked cold. Maybe it was just that he already hated her for what she’d done, but he couldn’t see any humanity in her eyes. Avery didn’t know much about her, other than that she used to be with Tyson and she was fucking psychotic. She was wriggling around, kicking and trying to get away from Tyson, who still had her pinned.

“Stop it.”

“I hate you.”

“Oh, darling. You don’t. But I’ll make it so you don’t have to see me ever again, okay?” He took the papers she’d grabbed, the ones that signed over everything and shoved them in his back pocket. “None of this for you…”

Avery knew he was baiting her. What he didn’t expect was for Clara to take what had to be the last drop of her strength and slam Tyson hard in the balls. His moment of shock was enough for her to twist out from under him and scramble to her feet. Avery tried to get up, but his arms were still sore and tingly and he was dizzy.

“Clara, stop!” Tyson called, but she ran out the door, banging against the wall on her way out.

Tyson yanked his phone out of his pocket, keyed in his password, and hit a few keys. Then he spoke angrily into the phone in what had to be Italian, if Avery’s ears heard right. What the hell?

Avery knew enough Spanish to pick out a few of the Italian words and Clara’s name said over and over. Finally Tyson hung up his phone and pocketed it.

“What’s going on?” Avery asked.

“They’re going to chase her down, I hope. The men I called are very persistent. If nothing else they’ll keep her busy for a few decades.” Tyson sounded exhausted. “I’m so tired of this game.” He looked up and smiled wanly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Okay? Okay? He’d been kidnapped and handcuffed in the dark and he was very much not okay.

“Are they going to kill her?” Avery asked. He felt a little justifiable bloodthirst was appropriate.

Tyson sighed out a sad chuckle. “I doubt they’ll find her, but even if they do, they wouldn’t kill her. Just put her somewhere she can’t cause any more trouble.”

“So your nemesis is still out there?”

He got a real chuckle for that one. “Nemesis is awfully dramatic. Pain in my ass is more like it. I won’t be hearing from her for a long time, anyway. She’ll be too busy running.”

It was that moment that everything came flooding back, and Avery remembered just how long Tyson had to wait for Clara to pop up again… as long as he wanted really. Generations. Tyson came over and put his arm around Avery’s shoulders. He was still sore from being tied for so long, and he was tired and ready to get in a car and get the hell back to New Orleans and his house and his sedate job.

“Can we go now?” he asked. He wanted nothing more than his own cottage and a bottle of wine and Macy to hold him. But he had Tyson standing there, Tyson who he hadn’t heard from in nearly a month. Tyson who looked at him so tenderly it was like he’d gone back in time. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Like I was going to let her hurt you.” Tyson sounded offended that Avery even thought that for a second. Avery didn’t examine his expression. It looked a little too caring, and Avery had to stop wanting that from Tyson.

“When are we leaving? I don’t like this room.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” Tyson stood and held out his hand. “We can leave the room right now. As far as going home? That might be a bit more complex.”

Avery stilled. He wasn’t following Tyson anywhere until he got some damn answers. “Why?”

“Because unless I’m mistaken, your passport isn’t here. And it’s going to take some work to get you home.”

“Passport?” Avery asked. “Where the hell am I?”

“You’re in Rome.”

“Italy?” Which would explain the phone call in Italian. Fantastic.

Tyson laughed. Asshole. “Yes, babe. We’re in Italy.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“Let’s go to a different room. I’m guessing you never want to see the inside of this one again.”

AVERY rubbed his shoulders and followed Tyson out of the room. It must’ve been some sort of glorified closet, because on the other side of the door he was hit with broad windows and bright Italian sun. There was a huge living room, an open kitchen, pale furniture, and a grand piano, of all things. He couldn’t believe he’d been in this place and had only seen the four dark walls of that tiny room.

“This is… nice.” It was an inane comment for someone who, other than a few blindfolded bathroom trips, had been tied up in a dark closet with a crazy immortal for—he actually had no idea how long he’d been in there. Tyson gave him a worried, sympathetic look.

“You must be so scared still. Do you want some tea?”

Avery nodded, because he didn’t know what else to do. The closed-off Tyson from a few weeks ago was gone. He was so sweet and solicitous, looking after all of Avery’s needs. It was… kind of adorable. And whiplash inducing.

Stop it.

Avery sat on the pale cushion and looked down. He realized he was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing for days. Of course. He felt dirty and gross, but he didn’t know how to ask for a shower and a change of clothes in the apartment of his captor. His female captor, who was unlikely to have anything he could change into.

Avery wondered what had become of his life. He’d never say anything, but if his students only knew, they’d have a field day.

Tyson made him tea and brought it over to the couch. Avery noticed he looked right at home puttering around in the vast modern kitchen and rooting in the cupboards. He must’ve been close with this Clara cow if he knew her apartment so well. Avery was annoyed at the quick flash of jealousy.