Chaos and Moonlight (Order of the Nines Book 1) (31 page)

“How this place manages to stay in operation is beyond me,” Judah glared up at the roofline. “There are no windows on the upper floors, no fire escape, nothing. It’s like it was built to keep people in.”

“Strip bars don’t want you to leave,” Achan said. “No windows means no sense of time. No sense of time means no sense of propriety.”

“How do you know it’s a strip bar?” Zillah asked as she pulled back the metal slides on her guns before holstering them. “And how do you know any of that?”

“Because, my old friend, I am a fan of occasionally losing one’s propriety. And no reputable business in its right mind would be called something so classless as The Booby Trap.”

“Can we fucking focus, please?” Taris spat out the words as he walked up and down the alley, casing every aspect of the walls one more time. “Someone see if we can get onto the roof. There has to be access to this place somehow. Judging by those cameras, I’d say the harpy knows we are here, so I want this done quickly.”

“Body count?” Rhiannon pulled up the edge of her tight leather gloves.

“I could give a shit. I just want Sarah back.”

A metallic
clank
echoed from the door and caused them all to step back. A symphony of guns cocking and blades unsheathing rang against the walls of the alleyway. Another slide came from the door, then another and another. Finally, a long, deep
hiss
scraped against it until the door was completely unlocked.

“Now what is that stupid legend about vampires being invited in?” Achan whispered over to Taris.

He ran his tongue over his fangs with a loud sucking sound and smiled.

“Playtime.”

With a heavy boot, he kicked open the door. The smell of booze and smoke flooded out into the alleyway and only got stronger as they stepped in. The floor was nasty, the stage was flimsy, and surrounding them in the interior of the main room were ten armed men, all of whom looked like small children playing with guns.

“You want to keep your lives?” Taris glared at each one of them. “Run.”

Only three of them dropped their weapons and made a mad dash for the door. The other stalwart sentinels maintained their positions and glanced at the large man in the center of the room. Taris looked him up and down. What weapons he had remained holstered.

“You open the door?” Taris shot the question at him.

The man nodded.

Taris looked again at the man and recognized him from the security footage from the house. He stormed over to him, pistol aimed, and was about to pull the trigger when a shot rang out. The large man in front of him instantly turned around, took aim at the guard behind the bar, and squeezed off a round that sent him sprawling to the floor.

“That bastard grazed me!”

Taris cocked his head to look at Rhiannon. She was gripping her shoulder. Between her fingers, he could see the blood beginning to bloom.

“You sure it’s not deep?” he asked.

“No, just a flesh wound, but nevertheless, it smarts.”

He nodded and looked at the large man again. He’d holstered the pistol he pulled to shoot the overly eager guard and shoved his hands into his pockets. Taris was tall, but this guy had to hover over him a good three or four inches.

“You’re pretty handy with those cannons,” Taris said, nodding down to the holster at his hip.

“Got me through a time or two,” the man replied.

Without another word, Taris pulled his fist back and landed it square in the guy’s jaw, cracking it and sending him crashing to the floor. The stare down between them said all that needed to be said. Taris spared his life because he defended Rhiannon. And the guy knew it.

“Where’s your boss?” Taris asked.

“Upstairs,” he nodded toward the staircase, gritting the words through his teeth. “So is your woman.”

Another shot rang out, this time from a henchman who stood on the stage. Huddled behind the large speakers were two skinny, scantily clad strippers. The shot missed its mark, which was Taris’ head, and instead landed in the ceiling.

“Why is it that evil henchmen can never shoot straight?” Achan muttered.

They separated, taking all corners of the bar. Individual fights broke out, and Taris made for the staircase. Quickly turning to the man on the floor, he nodded toward the girls on the stage.

“Get them and yourself out of here, and I don’t ever want to see you again.”

The man rose from the floor, motioning for the half-naked women to head for the door. Once they were outside, Taris positioned himself on the staircase. Leaning back as far as he could, let out a loud growl.

“MOORRRIIIGGAANNN!!!!!!!”

* * *

Sarah was trapped in the narrow vacuum of a nightmare, with the walls around her grip on reality slowly closing in. Her heart pounded harder as she felt Bane lean in closer toward her. The size and shape of his body so closely mimicked that of Taris’ that the feel of him against her made her cringe.

“I’m sorry about this,” Bane whispered as he pushed her hair away from her throat.

She barely had time to suck in a steadying breath before she felt the piercing pain of his teeth. Instantly, she felt her vision go hazy, and the telltale signs of syncope began to burn across her shoulders. Her periphery began to blur and slowly…close…in.

Just as Sarah’s head began to drop down to her chest, a piercing primal cry echoed from down the hallway, and Morrigan’s heart skipped a beat.

Taris. He was here.

“Son of a bitch!” She turned to Bane, her eyes burning, her chest heaving. “Your little friend let them in.” Bending down to his perch beside Sarah’s slowly fading form, she buried her fingernails deep into the already scarred channels in his back. She raked her fingers, digging the nails in so far that ribbons of skin peeled off. “Useless bastard! Get out of my sight. If you make it through them down there, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”

Bane kept himself steady. She’d bled him to the point of rabid starvation many times in their long life together, so the feeling of empty veins was nothing new. What was different this time was the fact that he didn’t love the way it felt. He turned and stood on shaking legs, closing the gap between them until he could feel the fibers of her sweater tickling his chest.

He said nothing. The vast myriad of words that swirled around in his brain were too insignificant for the moment. He knew what was waiting for them both downstairs. The ringing of gunfire and the sound of bodies hitting the floor were like a symphony to him, and every fiber of his being twitched to be a part of it. The melee would eventually make its way up those stairs, and then justice would finally be meted out. She would see her end today, one way or another.

Bane leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.

“See you in hell,” he whispered before he turned and stormed out the door.

Morrigan let out an angry growl. She turned and kicked over the chair Sarah was sitting in, sending her crashing to the floor. She inched one long, sharp nail between the ropes and untied them, pulling Sarah from the chair. Her head connected with the corner of the desk more than once as Morrigan pulled her to the back of the room and shoved her into the tiny closet.

“I hate it when a plan doesn’t come together,” she mumbled as she kicked the door shut. Pulling the rolling leather chair back, she gracefully sat down and propped her feet up on the desk. He would be there soon enough, and with any luck, he would take care of Bane for her once and for all.

All she had to do was wait.

Taris crouched down behind the stairwell, spinning the pistol in his hand. The burn in his belly was a warehouse fire, and he knew Bane was close. He could feel him. Broken bare feet started padding down the stairs, and it took everything he had not to crack off a shot into his ankle.

“I know you’re here, big brother.” Bane stopped and looked around. He was shirtless and covered from his shoulders to the small of his back in long, bleeding gashes. “I’m glad you’re here. I want her to die, you know. She’s had it coming for so long, and I’m glad it’s her time.”

Taris wasted no time. In a flash, he jumped out from behind the stairs, sweeping Bane’s feet out from under him. He brought a heavy boot down into his midsection in a quick
thud
, and once the air was completely knocked out of Bane, he pressed his foot into the front of his throat.

“Why didn’t you cut her heart out while she slept if you hate her so much?”

Bane’s eyes glossed over, and his fingers stopped frantically grabbing at the boot that Taris had buried in his neck.

“It wasn’t my place to do it. For all the scars she’s physically put on me, she cut you worse, brother. Go save your woman. My death is coming, and you’re not the one to deliver it.”

A pang of momentary guilt hit Taris in the gut. The years of wishing he’d handled things better all culminated into that one moment. He literally had Banan’s life under his foot. A hope that he would eventually shake her loose and right his wrongs seemed to have finally surfaced, but he didn’t know if he could trust it.

“Taris,” Bane gasped. “Sarah…she’s…”

“What did you do to her?” he leveled his pistol directly between Bane’s eyes. “Where is she?”

“You’re wasting your time with me. She’s upstairs, and if you don’t move fast, she will die. It was either me or Morrigan, and for once in my miserable shit life, I did the right thing.”

Bane was right. The longer he sat there seething, the greater danger Sarah was in.

Taris holstered his pistol and leaned down to offer Bane a hand but quickly pulled it back. Instead, he gave Bane a hard, thudding kick to his ribs.

“That’s for biting my woman.”

He grabbed his arm and helped pull him up. Once Bane was steady on his feet, he reared back and drove his fist into his gut with all his might. Bane hunched over, grunting in pain.

“That is for the last two hundred and fifty years of being a bitch.”

Taris lifted the ceramic blade out of the loop at his back and sliced his palm. With his free hand, he pulled Bane in close to him and wrapped his arms around him tight. He pressed the open cut on his hand to the gash on Bane’s back.

“This is so I know how to find you.”

It only lasted for a moment, but the embrace was like a heavy-duty power washer that stripped away years of dirt and grime and awfulness between them. Bane wrapped his thick arms around Taris, and he hugged him back.

“Now get out of here. And I don’t ever want you coming to the house again, you got it? Leave Kalin alone.”

Bane pulled away and nodded. Their features were so similar, yet time and life had driven them so far apart that not even the blood they shared could bridge the gap. The sound of gunfire in the club’s main room killed the moment, and without another word, Bane turned toward the exit.

The sound of the chaos ensuing downstairs slowly faded into the distance. Every step he took toward the ratty staircase thundered in his ears. Every sense he had was on high alert, and he felt that ancient, familiar tingle that used to govern his every move, only now it was amplified to the
n
th degree.

Taris kept his eyes carefully fixed on the dark corners as he took the metal steps two at a time. His pistol was aimed, fixed in front of him with steady hands. The light in the hallway swung back and forth, flickering like it was straight out of some low-budget horror flick. Dingy, peeling wallpaper lined the walls of the narrow corridor. He carefully made his way down the hallway, keeping on high alert and formulating a plan as he walked.

He pushed the first door open with a heavy boot, scanning the inside. Save for a nearly collapsed folding table, there was nothing in the room. The second was lined with makeshift vanities and lockers. It seemed only fitting for a low-rate stripper farm. Once he was confident that the room was secure, he moved farther down the hallway.

“I’m not playing hide-and-seek with you, bitch. You have something that belongs to me, and I want it back.”

A light flickered on in the last room. Taris’ heart pounded. He steadied his breath. A soft humming sound came from the interior of the third room.

“Do you remember our wedding night?”

Morrigan’s sickeningly sultry voice came echoing out into the hallway, and he couldn’t stop the instinctive shudder that it brought forth. He stepped closer and closer until he was finally in the doorway of the room.

Her stiletto heels were propped up on the desk. The lackadaisical lean against the leather chair made his stomach turn. His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, but there was no sign of Sarah. The sight of the blood pool in the center of the floor made his stomach lurch again.

“Where is she?”

Morrigan didn’t answer. She simply smiled and examined her fingernails. Taris pulled the ceramic blade out again and flicked it toward her, burying it just centimeters from where her thigh rested against the wooden desk.

“Give her to me now, or so help me, I will rip that Medusa head straight off your body and piss down your open throat,” he gritted through his teeth.

“So forceful. And to think I always took you for a Nancy. If you’d have talked to me like that when we were together, I might have stayed with you,” she smiled, sitting upright. “Although, I do not think that you, of all people, should be issuing ultimatums. After all, I have what you want. Besides, are you sure she’s what you really want? She has no curves. She’s about as plain as plain can be. And she’s really not that bright. I, on the other hand,” Morrigan stood behind the desk and casually ran her hands over the swell of her hips, “have all the things I know you love.”

Taris leveled his pistol in her face and was about to pull the trigger when he heard a thud and a
flop
come from the closet behind her. A sly smile spread across her lips.

“Oops. Guess she’s not very good at playing hide-and-seek, either.”

With a flying leap, Taris crossed over the table, pulling his blade out before making it to the closet door. With a quick flip, he slashed the blade across Morrigan’s throat and buried the ceramic knife deep in her shoulder. The gurgling scream that came from her was deafened by his own cry as he opened the door and found Sarah, lying in a thick pool of her own blood, two large puncture holes directly in the meat of her neck.