SEVENTEEN
SLOANE
Clay and Ben are twitchy as all hell. They won’t sit down, won’t stop pacing. Won’t stop checking their shared radio, or their personal cell phones. I know what their restless fidgeting means. It means that Zeth is here. He’s come for me, and they’re not sure how this is all going to go down.
I’ve never placed a bet on anything in my entire life, but I’m willing to bet things are not going to end well for them right now. It’s weird: throughout this entire experience, I’ve been uncomfortable and I’ve been pissed off. I’ve been irritated, and concerned, sure, but I haven’t been afraid. Not really. Maybe that’s complacent of me. I mean, being kidnapped is a scary ordeal where anyone’s concerned. Being held at gunpoint by strangers who want to cause me and the people I love harm is hardly going to be a walk in the park, but…I don’t know. I just haven’t given myself over to the panic and the terror, because a large part of me has known that Zeth is going to come for me.
And when Zeth Mayfair wants something, when someone he cares about is danger, god help any man or woman stupid enough to stand in his way. It’s not healthy to believe he’s invincible. He is a man, flesh and blood, like any other. But he’s also not like any other man on the planet. He’s fierce, and he’s determined, and I trust him more than anything in the world.
“Will you please sit down?” I say quietly. “It’s exhausting me just watching the two of you right now.”
Clay scowls at me. “Do we really look like we give a shit if we’re exhausting you? Huh? Keep running your mouth and I’ll find a way to distract myself. And I promise you won’t like it.”
“Nice. Threatening me with sexual assault. So very gentlemanly of you.”
Clay flips me off and keeps pacing. He sticks the end of his thumb in his mouth, eyeing Ben. “Shouldn’t we have heard something by now? Alaska’s not exactly a weapons expert , is she? It’s not like she could really defend herself against him.”
“She’s fine,” Ben says. “And anyway, Lowell has plenty of training. She could kick all of our asses without breaking a sweat.”
At the mention of Lowell’s name, my vision seesaws. When Alaska brought her in here earlier, I nearly broke both my wrists trying to get to her, to claw her fucking eyes out with my bare hands. Lowell had laughed, amused by my reaction. She seemed thrilled by mu hatred. Even more thrilled when she told me of her plans to kill me.
I try and suppress the angry growl that’s begging to rip free from my throat; it will only piss Ben and Clay off, and it’s better they forget I’m even here right now. God, where is Zeth? What is he doing right now? I shift on the bed, my back aching from lying in the same position for so long, and a strange, feather-light sensation flutters low in my stomach.
I freeze.
I hold my breath.
I count to five.
I’m not thinking about Alaska or Lowell anymore. I’m not thinking about anything. I’m locking in stunned silence, every part of me braced, waiting…
The baby. It moved. That was the baby moving inside me for the first time. A choked sob flies from my mouth before I can rein it in. Clay growls under his breath, an animalistic, wild sound. I roll onto my side, away from him.
I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks, looking forward to it, counting down the days until the life form growing inside me was big enough for me to feel shifting inside my belly, and it happens now? Here? My eyes begin to sting. I should have gone with Oliver when he offered to do an ultrasound. I should have gone. I close my eyes, tears streaking down my cheeks. What if I’m wrong? What if things go badly, and Zeth can’t save me? I’ll die, and I won’t have laid eyes on my child. Not even via the grainy, black and white image picked up by an ultrasound.
I want to stack my hands on my stomach, to cradle the life inside me, but with my hands still tied above my head, it’s impossible. I have to stay calm. I have to. If I lose it now, Clay and Ben are going to teach me a lesson. They’re going to force me to shut up, and that could lead to the baby being hurt. I couldn’t bear that. I couldn’t fucking handle it. So I bite back my tears, facing the wall, eyes unblinking, jaw clenched and I do my best to ride the rollercoaster of panic I’m stuck on without making another sound.
It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay, little one.
I promise, it’s going to be okay.
Time passes so slowly, a thousand single grains of sand passing through the eye of a narrow needle, one at a time. Ben’s phone chimes, and he and Clay both visibly relax. I dare not ask what’s happening, so I try and calm my racing mind.
After a while, there’s a knock at the door. Ben exhales a sigh of relief, as if he’s been expecting Alaska or her cohort for some time. “I’m grabbing food first,” he informs Clay, as he gets to his feet and heads to the door.
“Asshole. I have low blood sugar,” Clay grouses.
Ben opens the door, mouth open, ready to say something, but his words never materialize. He just blinks at the person facing him, his brows banking together in confusion. “What the fuck? How did you get down here?”
I sit up, straining to see who’s arrived, hope swelling in my chest. Zeth. Zeth made short work of that bitch, and now he’s going to destroy these two idiots for holding me here against my will. Only…it’s not Zeth. There are two people standing in the hallway, and I don’t recognize either of them. Both tall, both with dark brown hair and dark, murderous eyes, both dressed in immaculate black suits and black shirts that put Michael’s wardrobe to shame.
The two strangers look at one another, then slowly back at Ben. “We walked down here,” the taller of the two says. “How did you get down here?”
Clay gets to his feet, hand already moving to his holster. “Don’t be fucking smart, asshole. Where’s Alaska? Where’s the cop?” Neither of them say anything. They both stare down the other two men before them, watching them intently as Clay snarls, producing his gun. “Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?” he hisses.
The guy with the shorter hair huffs dramatically. “It’s fucking amazing how none of you know who we are,” he says. “I’m Theo, and this is Sal, my brother. And as for your second question, I think it’s easier to show you what we want instead of explain.”
Theo. Sal. I know those names. I know them, because Zeth has spoken them to me countless times. They’re Barbieris, the guys who burned down the warehouse. They’re here, in Seattle? But why? My head pounds as I struggle to make sense of this turn of events, my pulse skittering all over the place.
Oh…
Shit.
There’s only one reason why they would be here. Zeth went out there to kill them, to teach them a lesson for what they did when they came here last. I have no idea what went down in New York, but…if the Barbieris have traveled to the west coast, it’s probably because things didn’t go according to plan with Zeth, and they’ve come seeking revenge. And the best way to do that is to kill me, of course. So…I’m about to be kidnapped from my kidnappers? A coil of fear lashes itself around my throat. God. What the hell are they going to do to me? And where is Zeth? Is he okay?
“We don’t know any Barbieris,” Ben says, his voice edged with warning. “You’re not meant to be here. You’d better get the fuck out of here before we decide we’re going to keep you here.”
Theo Barbieri’s eyes move past Ben, over his shoulder, roving over the walls of the small engineering room. At last, they land on me. I expect a flicker of excitement to cross his face—I am his target, after all—but his expression remains stoic and unmoved.
Ben steps forward, his gun now in his hand, too. He prods Theo firmly in the chest with the barrel. “You’re not listening, motherfucker. You need to leave. Now.”
In no apparent hurry, Theo turns his head to his brother, Sal. They seem to have this weird way of silently communicating, though I can’t tell how they’re doing it. Certainly not through any gesture that I can discern; they’re both still as marble statues. After a long, drawn out second, a sharp-edged smile spills across Sal’s face. “And here I was thinking this trip was going to be no fun,” he says.
Theo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.” He returns his gaze to me on the bed, sniffs, and then says, “Better cover your ears if you can.”
Clay laughs. “You aren’t very observant. You have two guns trained on y—” Before he can even finish his sentence, Sal Barbieri rushes forward, faster than I would have thought possible, and tackles Ben The two of them go crashing to the floor, Ben hollering as Sal’s full body weight comes slamming down on him. Clay is stunned. He stares at Ben, wrestling on the ground for a second, and then he’s jerking forward, pulling the trigger on his gun, and a deafeningly loud crack and roar is filling the air.
The smell of burning metal floods my nose. Despite being so damn close, Clay didn’t hit Theo, because Theo is no longer standing in the doorway. He’s crouched low, rushing forward, charging for Clay. I watch the scene unfold, my heart in my throat. I’m not sure who I should be rooting for here. If I were to get my own way, they’d all simultaneous kill each other in some unlikely fluke and I would be safe. Life doesn’t work like that, though.
Theo takes Clay out at the knees, sending them both reeling back into the wall. The back of Clay’s head makes contact first; his eyelids shutter, his teeth bared in pain, and then Theo’s snatching the gun from his hand and spinning it around, cocking it, firing...
As a doctor, I’ve seen a hundred gunshot wounds. More than a hundred, probably. And since I’ve been with Zeth, I’ve seen plenty of people shot at close range, too. But this shot…this is something else. Point blank range. The round doesn’t merely penetrate Clay’s skull; it splits it open like a ripe watermelon. Fragments of bone and brain matter fly under the impact of the bullet, spraying Theo and me in the process. I try not to gag as I scurry back into the corner of the bed, as far as my restrained wrists will allow me, putting as much space between myself and Theo as I can. His face is drenched with blood, his eyes wide, the whites showing, his chest heaving as he stares down at Clay’s body. The man sprawled out at Theo’s feet is still twitching. His hands and feet spasm reflexively, the synapses in his brain firing randomly as the final wisps of life leave him.
I dare a glance over at Ben wrestling with the other Barbieri on the floor, and I gasp, startled by what I see there: either Sal took the gun from Ben and kicked it aside, or Ben dropped it in the commotion. It lies five feet away from his grasping hand as Sal kneels over him, tearing at Ben’s neck with his…with his teeth.
Ben’s agonized cries are filled with horror. His legs kick fruitlessly at the ground, his body writhing, but Sal is bigger than him, and has him pinned. Sal rears back, grinding his teeth together, and ropes of sinew and muscle tear away from Ben’s neck with him.
“Holy fucking god,” I whisper.
Theo spins around and sighs, as if he’s disappointed. “Sal. Fuck, Sal, come on. You’re behaving like a goddamn savage.”
Sal just grins, blood covering his face, gore hanging from his mouth. “I am a savage. So are you. You just need to loosen up a little.”
Ben shudders one last time, then his limbs fall slack, his head rocking to one side, eyes staring blankly over toward where I’m curled up as tight as possible on the cot.
If Sal has no qualms over ripping out a man’s throat with his teeth, then what the fuck is he going to do to me? I shiver, trying to brainstorm, to think of something to say to them that will stay their hands. I can’t form a single coherent thought, though. Not one.
Sal gets to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes flash unnervingly, like he could happily use his teeth to cause some more damage right about now. The brothers approach the cot, blood-flecked and terrible.
And then…
“Jesus, Sloane! What the hell happened to you?”
My heart slams in my chest, my vision flashing. I look back over Theo’s shoulder, and Pippa is standing there, her arm bound to her body, her face pale and drawn. She rushes into the cramped room, stepping over Ben and Clay’s broken bodies as if she doesn’t even see them.
“What are you doing here?” I can’t think of anything else to say.
She runs her hands over me, looking for any injuries. Finds none. She seems to calm down when she realizes I’m unhurt, for the most part. Turning to Theo, she holds out her good hand, motioning to him. “Knife. Hand it over. I know you’ve got one.”
Sal laughs, shoving Theo out of the way. “Why settle for his puny, worthless weapon when you can have mine?” He flips back his suit jacket and draws a long, serrated, sinister looking knife from a sheath that runs down the side of his body. The blade is at least eight inches long, and looks like it’s been well used. Pippa grimaces as she takes it from him and carefully uses it to cut through the zip ties.
My hands pulse and burn with pain as I slowly lower my arms. Warily, I sit myself up on the edge of the bed, doing my utmost not to burst into tears as I say, “Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on here? Because I think I’m losing my mind.”
Pippa rubs my arms with her single, good hand, murmuring softly. “These guys were sent back with Zeth to help deal with that DEA agent, Lowell.” Shame washes over her face. “The one I called back at the hospital…”
I shake my head: don’t worry about that. Not now.
“Zeth told us to wait at the gym,” she continues. “He told these two to watch me and work on the Lowell problem. As soon as he left, Theo called in a favor and had the bitch tracked…to here. As soon as we realized Lowell was at the same baseball field you were being held at…well. We got in the car and drove straight here.”
I pin Theo with an incredulous gaze first, then Sal. “Why would you bring her with you? Can’t you see she’s hurt?”
A scathing bark of laughter escapes Theo. “When was the last time you tried to tell this woman to do anything?” he answers. “She’s stubborn as fuck.” Sal actually pales a little as he looks down at Pippa, which seems entirely out of character, based on what I’ve seen of him so far. I don’t blame him, though. Pippa can be a frightening individual when she sets her mind on it. She probably threatened to psychoanalyze them, and they gave her whatever she wanted.
“Come on,” she says, helping me to my feet.
“We haven’t seen the others yet, but I’m betting they won’t be far. We’ll go find somewhere safe to wait this out.”
“And we,” says Sal, rubbing his hands together, “will go and find the party.”