Blindsided (40 page)

That night in the labs he should have remembered his suspicions. That night, John had tried to turn everyone against Aria, insinuating she’d gotten off when her brother molested her and had been in league with him all along. Whitesman’s reaction suggested he hadn’t known that extraneous bit of information. He’d been shocked and uneasy. Why? Because Aria hadn’t told him. No one but Willis, himself, and Garret knew what exactly Byron had done to Aria when she was sixteen. But John knew. And there was only one person who would’ve told him: Byron.

John sighed. “I wish you hadn’t shown up here. I was actually going to spare your life.”

“Still could.”

“Nope, can’t have you telling Whitesman you saw me here tinkering with the comp’s memory.”

And that was why Whitesman was being so paranoid about the drive. Wouldn’t want one of the techs to hand it over to John. Not when the director suspected there might be evidence against the head of systems tech on it.

“You surprise me, John. I never would’ve pegged you for having the guts to take things this far.”

“What else am I going to do? I’m in too deep. I was just going to let Byron take you out, then pull a double cross and bring him in.”

“So you’d get the credit.”

“Fucking brilliant, right?” John smiled. Snap-crack-pop.
 

“You’re a fucking genius, John.”

John frowned, obviously not pleased by Teigan’s sarcastic tone.

“So Byron is the brawn and you’re the brains.” Teigan baited John. Get him to talk, get him distracted, get him to drop the barrel of the fucking stunner off his face.
 

“Oh Byron is smart, too, but not as smart as me, and not someone you want to trust. See, on this Whitesman and I agree. The Viadals are all just walking bombs, waiting to detonate. But, I’ll keep Byron around long enough to make sure the path is clear, but then I think I might have a real use for that tracking program your girlfriend, I mean wife, came up with.”

The barrel of the stunner had tipped to the side slightly at least three times during John’s discourse. Just not enough to risk a move. “So you’re planning on either killing or capturing him after your done with him.”

“Eventually, we’ll see.” John snapped his gum. “You’re probably wondering what the plan is.”

Teigan shrugged. “Guessing by the gun, I imagine part of it is killing me.”

John glanced at his stunner, as if checking to make sure it was actually on Lethal. Guess it wasn’t, he frowned and thumbed the power up. Shit, should have moved.
 

John smiled again. “Now it is.”

“How are you going to work that?”

An excited gleam caught in John’s eyes and he went on. “See this is how it went down. I, of course, have been working hard, and finally found the link to our insider and Byron.”
 
He held up a data chip. “Seems Garret started conversing with Byron after we got the information from Aria, which—da, de, da-da, da, dah!—included Byron’s online usernames. Guess Garret couldn’t take being one upped by his bro where Aria was concerned.” He tsked. “And here you went and left them alone together out there. Imagine how he’ll react when she continues to reject him. I imagine a scorned Viadal is not a pretty thing to see.”

“Garret’s never been interested in Aria.”

“No? How can you really tell with one of those machines?
 
Repressed emotions combined with cold killer instincts. Brrr.” He feigned a shiver. “Not good.” He gave a happy little shrug. “Besides, it’s more like a sibling rivalry thing than Garret really wanting her.”

Teigan’s nerves grated at the outright lie. Their relationship was far from perfect yet, but anyone on the team knew he and Garret had begun to form a bond. And anyone knew that Garret and Aria were friends and nothing more. The sad thing was Whitesman might actually buy John’s twisted theories.
 

 
John, caught up in his own brilliance, went on. “Byron, of course, never really wanted sis dead. It’s the twin thing. Sick, sick relationship that one. Anyway, he’s pissed that Garret killed her, so he kills Garret and takes off. Of course, now that you’re involved, we’ll have to alter that last bit a little. You’re going to take a little trip back to the cottage where you’re going to arrive just a few minutes too late, but not so late that Bryon’s left. He’s going to have to kill you too, I’m afraid. Time will be close and he’ll be on the run, but he’s pretty slick. Another year or so we’ll take up where we left off. The thirty shit. It’s just that. Bullshit. And even Byron knows that. Look at me, I’m thirty-five! And I’m still probably another dozen years off from having Tighty Whitey’s job.”

“You’re sick.” And he’d just proved it with the stupid-ass monologue. Only psychopathic idiots monologued.

“No, no. I’m brilliant. Bryon’s sick...take a listen.” John pulled out his personal com, laid it on the table and pulled up a previous message. “No video, sorry.”

He depressed a button, zipping through a good minute or two of conversation, then:

“You getting this, John?”

There was a gasp of pain followed by a whimper. “You’d think my whore sister had lost her tongue as well as her sight. She’s not a screamer, but I’m trying.”

Aria!

On the recording, John chuckled. “Glad you’re having fun. I’ll be sure to tell our friend how much you enjoyed punishing her for her indiscretions. The other one taken care of?”

“He’s all tied up. Waiting for the grand finale.”

“Good. I’m going to go in and take care of our other little problem now. Think you can entertain yourself for another half hour or so?”

There was another sound like flesh hitting flesh and a muffled sob. “Not a problem, take your time.”

Blood roared in Teigan’s ears. Before John had even clicked the com off, he was moving.

***

Garret’s chest felt like he’d been wailed on with a hammer. His heart was thumping like it was about to explode and the pain in his side was excruciating—having to twist and contort to get free hadn’t helped the knife wound any. But the sound of the struggle going on in the cottage kept him moving.

Fucking stun gun. He’d taken the hit right to the chest.
Stupid. Idiotic. You knew when you came out something more than a missed trap had gotten that dog.
 

His immediate thought had been Bryon, but knowing the asshole was in jail, he’d dismissed it before the first drops of rain had slapped his face.

Wasn’t raining now. Which only succeeded in worrying him more. How long had he been out?

He lifted his gaze, flinging his head to the side to whip a droplet of mud out of his eyes. The lights were blazing again in the solarium, but other than that, things had gone suspiciously quiet inside the cottage.

Didn’t make sense. Why would Byron tie him up and leave him? After he’d done whatever he’d been planning on doing with his sister, he would’ve come back, finished the job. Whatever that was. Obviously Byron had plans that included having Garret alive for just a little longer. Bait. No. A set up maybe? But for who? And why?

Only one way to find out.

He pushed aside the lingering pain and made a dash for the door.

***

Teigan burst from the house, his gaze lighting on his government issue. Too damn slow. He needed a faster ride—damn he wished he had that Storm up and running.

John’s car sat in the drive where the Agency shuttle had been, but the Solarcon looked to be only a step or two above a junker. Probably stolen. Wouldn’t want to have anything linking him to this.
 

Too late now. John had squealed like a pig, on record, and was now trussed up like one, too.
 

Pushing all thoughts of John and further retribution aside, Teigan started for his car, pushing buttons on his com. God owed him a favor, a big one. An extra ten minutes and some backup at least.
 

Damn it! He couldn’t get ahold of anyone with authority. Not Whitesman, not Carthridge, not Steven, not Robards, no one!

Before he’d reached the curb, he heard the high pitch whirl of a good size chopper. He glanced up, hoping beyond hope it might be a government one he could confiscate. It wasn’t, instead he saw the happy E.T. symbol with crossing spotlights gleaming in shiny silvery letters on the side.

It flew in closer. A blinding beam of light wavered over the lawn, settling on him. He looked up and smiled.
Hello, Bonnie.

***

He was enjoying this. Aria realized that it was only because Byron liked playing her as a cat would a mouse that she was still standing, still fighting. It was the only reason she wasn’t dead yet. The com had distracted him and she’d taken the moment when he was flipping it shut to execute one of the moves Willis had taught her.
If you’re ever pinned down by a man, you do this, then go for the jewels.

She had a headache now, but she’d managed to get away. They’d been playing this game of hide-and-seek ever since. She was doing better than she suspected he thought she would. She may have had a fat lip, a couple cracked ribs and a broken arm, but he had some sore balls, a bunch of bruises and a headache to match her own. Surprise!

“Ah, come on, Aria.” His taunting words echoed up the stairway. “Don’t you think it’s about time to end this?”

A step creaked beneath his weight. Half way up. Time to move. She slowly began lowering the rope. Stretch her arm out, wrap the rope under her ankle, hold and repeat.
 

This was her one advantage. She knew the house and he, who’d hated the country setting, didn’t know all its secrets. The bell pull from upstairs to the basement was one of them, as was the second set of stairs into the basement off of the butler’s pantry. That was going to be her way out.

She’d almost made it to the bottom of the chute when she heard him swear, his footfalls heavy as he crossed the guest room to look in the cracked cabinet. Discovered, she let the rope run through her fingers, the frayed fibers burning across her palm, and landed with a plop. The shock ripped through her ribs. She bit off the pain by sinking her teeth into her own tongue and lunged from the confined box onto the cement floor.
 

Get across the room, behind the cinderblock wall to the servant’s stairs, wait for him to come partway down the other ones. Then go.
 

Above her, Bryon’s hurried footfalls as he raced back down the first set of stairs marked time with her own accelerated breathing. As her hand closed on the knob of the door leading up into the butler’s pantry, he made it to the hall where he yanked open the other door to the basement.
 

“Tricky, tricky, sis. Gotta give you points for that.” He started down the stairs. One, two, three, four…

When he hit the tenth one, two short of the bottom, she twisted the knob and pushed through.

“Fuck!” His frustrated cry echoed in the empty space.

Hurry. Hurry. She pressed herself, pressed her knowledge, her senses, her tolerance for the pain.
 

She burst into the kitchen. Behind her, she could hear Bryon racing up the stairs. Solarium. A tossed throw pillow tripped her. She went down, landing hard on her good arm and rolling onto her smashed elbow. Shit! Tears spilled from her eyes, but she got back up and had just stepped on the first crackling shards of glass when a hand thrust into her hair, yanking her back.

She screamed like a banshee, good arm swinging, legs kicking. Their struggle took them from one end of the room to the other, but nothing she did got her free. He pulled her tight against him. Her back to his front. Her good arm twisted up behind her and her head painfully twisted back, down and to the side.

“What do you think, Aria?” His salty, sweet breath whispered huskily in her ear.
 

She swallowed down a lump of bile.

He pressed her down, making her kneel, then lay. He came down over her, his body covering hers, pinning her. Horror twisted in her gut when she felt the ridge of his erection press into her buttocks. “Want to wager on who’s the best now?”
 

His chuckle started as a rumbling in the base of his throat, rising to a full-bodied laugh that sent racking vibrations through her already agonized body…then abruptly cut off.
 

Above her, he drew in a deep breath, whistling slightly in his nasal passageways—maybe she’d actually managed to break his nose. Her own nostrils flared. All she could smell was blood, but this time it wasn’t all hers.

***

The bastard was laughing. Garret swept into the room, the limb he’d broken off moving in an arc toward the back of Byron’s head. At the last second the laughter broke off and Byron rolled off Aria. Garret did the only thing he could, changing his aim for the stunner that his enemy was lifting toward him. It connected, sending the piece flying through the air. It plopped down on the couch, closer to Byron than him. Figured.

“Aria! Stunner’s on the couch!” Ignoring the screaming in his side, Garret lunged, hands striking faster than any normal human could block. Of course, Byron wasn’t normal and managed to block almost every one, twice even getting in counter blows.

Garret risked a glance at Aria. She looked the same as she did when he’d first seen her pinned under Byron. Not good. Arm clutched against her side, she was attempting to rise, but not quite managing to resist gravity. Come on, Aria, get the damn stunner.