CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Oh my God,” Becca said. “Tell me we didn’t take Michael’s car.”
Sterling maneuvered the Mustang into the McDonald’s parking lot where he was meeting Marcus. “Not just his car,” he said. “His baby.”
“He’s going to be furious,” she said.
“Good,” he said. “He deserves to be furious.”
“Don’t pick a fight with him because you’re mad at me,” she scolded.
His cell phone rang. “I’m not mad at you,” he said, yanking it from his belt. He was mad at the world, because it was going to take Becca from him, and it was going to do it soon. He could feel it in his bones.
He pulled into an inconspicuous parking spot near the back of the restaurant, scanned for Marcus and didn’t see him, and eyed caller ID. With a low growl, he hit “send” and answered. To say he was in a foul mood would be an understatement.
“Ten fucking days you’ve been avoiding my phone calls, Riker,” Sterling said acidly.
Unaffected by Sterling’s mood, Riker replied, “Distance makes the heart fonder.”
“Avoidance makes you a chicken shit,” Sterling snapped. “We found out they had a drug cocktail in their systems. No thanks to you.”
“I pick up the bodies,” Riker replied, his words as dry as the Vegas desert in mid-July. “I don’t examine them. And I don’t decide who needs to know what.”
Sterling made a sound of disgust. “Bullcrap. You’re running the army’s ICE defense systems. You knew about Eclipse, and you knew I needed to know. You people want our help, yet you keep us in the dark.”
“You people?” Riker asked in disbelief. “You mean the U.S. Army?”
“I mean the corrupt bastards above you, masquerading as the U.S. Army,” Sterling corrected him, considered killing the engine, and decided to leave it running—in case Becca needed a fast escape. “While the army is busy plotting whatever they are plotting—no doubt something the Renegades won’t like—Adam is gaining momentum, and innocent lives are being put in jeopardy.”
A silver Porsche turned into the restaurant entrance. Fancy car spelled Marcus. Time to end the call. “ICE isn’t made from Adam’s DNA,” Sterling quickly informed Riker. “You want to know more, you get someone to return Kelly’s phone calls and make sure she gets what she wants. I don’t care if it’s the sticky note on your damn refrigerator.” He hung up and eyed Becca. “Stay here.”
She reached for her door. He shackled her arm. “I said, stay here.”
“If I go unseen, then the purpose of me coming here was defeated,” she argued, her eyes throwing defiant darts at him.
He grabbed her and kissed her, drank a long taste of what was fast becoming his own addiction. He didn’t want her here, risking her life, when he hadn’t even figured out how to save it in the first place.
“This isn’t a bungee jump, Becca,” he told her huskily. “We don’t have those new nicotine weapons yet. We don’t even have backup. Marcus misses nothing. He’ll know you’re here. That’s all we’re after.” He let her go. “Lock the doors, and get the hell out of here at the first sign of trouble.”
She nodded. “Okay. Stop acting so…angry.”
“I freaking hate that you’re doing this, Becca, and I hate that I can’t come up with a reason that isn’t selfish to stop you. So I’ll be angry if I want to.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He shoved open the door and sauntered to the opposite side of the Mustang, masking the unease balled in his gut with a casual façade.
Marcus rested against the driver’s side of the sleek silver Porsche, legs and arms crossed, a pair of Oakleys settled over his eyes. His fancy Italian, French, whatever-the-hell-it-was suit contrasted with Sterling’s jeans and T-shirt.
“Great way to be discreet there, Marcus,” Sterling drawled, giving the car a once-over. “Or maybe I misunderstood you on the phone, and you said ‘don’t be discreet.’” He snorted. “Would have gambled on you being a Lamborghini man though…if I was a gambling man, and I’m not.”
“If you were a gambler, Sterling,” Marcus drawled slowly, “we wouldn’t be talking right now. We wouldn’t be talking period. I don’t gamble. I strategize to win, and then I win. And for the record, I have a number of cars. And yes, one of them is a Lamborghini.”
Sterling wished he could see beyond those damn sunglasses, wondering what Marcus hid behind them. “For the record, your ego made you say that which makes it too big.” Then, allowing impatience into his voice, “Why are we here, Marcus?”
“I know where you can get that ICE you want.”
Sterling arched a brow. “I’m listening.”
“Seems my casinos have been infiltrated by one of Adam’s dealers,” he said. “I’ve identified the woman in question. So here’s how I want this to play out. You do your deal that you’ve been looking to make with her, keep my cut of our agreed upon deal, and I’ll add another fifty Gs to your paycheck.”
Sterling leaned against the Mustang, mostly because it would piss Michael off—and he was really in the mood to piss off the world today. “If this is the way you say I’m sorry for being a dick all the time,” Sterling drawled. “I like the way you say I’m sorry.”
Marcus tossed Sterling a data stick. “Pictures and relevant detail. Her name’s Sabrina, a cocktail waitress at our Belladonna property, who several of my employees insist is high up in the ranks of the ICE operation, as in more than a dealer. Do your thing with her. Hell, do her for all I care. Then make her go away. I don’t need her kind of trouble screwing with my business. She’ll be back on duty Friday night—three nights too far away, as far as I’m concerned. She lives in the hotel. She’ll be around.”
Suspicion raked down Sterling’s spine. This rang with bad vibes. A female close to the top of the food chain—sounded like his Madame caller. Coincidence? Few things were. Like Becca and him, he thought, shoving away the thought. “Why not use one of your security men?”
“The further this is from me and my staff, the better for my business.” His gaze shifted to the Mustang and to Becca in the passenger’s seat. “That your new assistant?”
Sterling narrowed his eyes in a barely perceptible way. “Who told you I had a new assistant?”
“Just doing my part to pay off Eddie’s medical bills for his poor, sick mother.” He laughed. “You ain’t got nothin’ I don’t got.” He opened his car door and slipped inside, arrogant enough to assume Sterling would simply agree to his demands.
Sterling pocketed the data stick, watching as Marcus drove away. But there was something else bothering him. You ain’t got nothin’ I don’t got. That statement bothered him. And not because of Eddie. Eddie was desperate to save his mother, though he’d be having a few, choice words with the man. It was about Marcus. Marcus was precise, exact in everything, even his speech. Maybe he was letting his guard down, but not likely. Marcus had a guard as steely as the defenses around Sunrise City.
Sterling shook his head. The way the man spoke wasn’t the issue. There was something more. Why did the chance to get up close and personal with one of Iceman’s top dealers have him so uneasy? Duh, asshole. Something wasn’t right. He’d established that.
Sterling grimaced. Right. Brilliant observation. Of course, something wasn’t right. He saw trouble everywhere he looked. Adam was trying to take over the world, and he himself was about to have his world ripped from beneath him because he’d gone and fallen in love with a woman destined to rip his heart out.
Sabrina lounged on her stomach across the foot of her bed, feet in the air, staring at Iceman where he sat tied to a chair, glaring at her with contempt in his eyes and a promise he would make her pay for this.
“You shouldn’t have taken me for granted,” she said. “Taking me for granted is what got you tied to that chair.” She made a sound of disgust. “And good grief it was easy. I can’t believe I thought you were powerful and sexy.” She gave him a nasty inspection. “Now look at you. You’re weak and pathetic. Easily outsmarted. You were all talk.”
She didn’t expect an answer. Not with that gag tied around his mouth. She liked him silent anyway. She’d listened to enough of his promises to last a lifetime.
The door handle rattled, and she sat up expectantly. The sheer red silk gown she wore she picked out especially for Tad. She’d hated him at first. But like her desire for Iceman, that had changed. She wanted him. Wanted what he could give her—a chance to be his Lifebond and live in the new kingdom of the world—Zodius City. A place her efforts would be appreciated rather than punished, as they would be with the Renegades.
The instant the door opened, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Iceman appearing when he was tied to the chair. He slammed the door shut and in a single flash of a moment became Tad. She thrilled inside. The perfect fantasy man. He could be anyone she wanted him to be. That was pretty damn hot.
“How did it go?” she asked expectantly. “Did Sterling buy the story? Did he believe you were Marcus?”
“He not only believed it,” he said. “He has Rebecca Burns with him right now.”
Tad walked to the nightstand and opened a drawer, removing a dose of ICE and downing it. “So close and I couldn’t touch her without the fear of passing out. No wonder Adam wants her dead. She’s a menace.”
“Do all the GTECHs take ICE?”
“They don’t know the special skills it can give them,” he said. “So why would they?”
She tilted her head. “And you don’t want them to, do you? You like being something they aren’t.”
He sat down, offering her no response, but rather her own vial of ICE, along with a dose of Eclipse. Which she wanted, but…she cast him a dubious look. “I thought you said the Eclipse would kill me.”
“Not taking it might as well,” he said. “Lifebonding will eradicate your need for the drugs. You must stay strong until then.”
She didn’t know how to Lifebond, but she was all for being one of the royalty of Adam’s world, which is what Tad said she would be. Excitement rose inside her. “When will that be again?”
“The same time I tell him about Eclipse,” he said, guiding the vial to her mouth. “When the time is right.” He turned the vial back on her lips and pressed the Eclipse star to her palm.
Pleasure rushed over her in a rainbow of color damn near as sweet as orgasm. She climbed on his lap, needing release, sliding her hands around his neck and glancing over at Iceman. She wanted to make Iceman watch.
But still, she hadn’t forgotten her questions. “When is the time right?”
Tad ran his hands over her breasts, rough, measuring. “Adam is ruthless with his punishment if he does not get everything he wants when he wants it—generous with his rewards when he does. We will tell him of your Lifebond readiness when we share the news that the ICE deaths have come to an end. And so has Rebecca Burn’s life.”
She bit her bottom lip and smiled, arching against his crotch. “I can reward you now.”
The room phone rang and so did her cell. She rolled her eyes. “It’s JC. He’s been calling over and over again. He says he needs Iceman.”
Tad set her off him. “Tell him to come to the room,” he said. “We may not need Madame. Sterling is here in the city with Rebecca Burns. We’ll use those two Clanners from the warehouse he grabbed from the alley the other night to lure Sterling to us.”
Damn. She really liked playing Madame. She grabbed the phone. “He’s here,” she said to JC, not giving him time to talk. “Come to my room. He wants to speak to you.” She hung up.
Tad smiled. He walked over to his prisoner, watching as Iceman’s eyes grew contemptuous. “I wouldn’t look at me like that unless you want your balls in your throat.” He kicked the chair over and ground his foot into Iceman’s chest. “Then again, what’s the point? I’ve decided I know what my reward should be for pleasing Adam. Your life. Fancy cars. Your woman in my bed. Lots of cash and power. I want to be you. I’m the new Iceman.” Tad smiled. “Which means the old one has to die. Lights out, Marcus.” Tad crushed his chest with his foot.