Collateral Damage (22 page)

"Got it." Darryl nodded towards a group of guards and led them away.

Combing his fingers through his hair, Cyrus glanced around at his guests, the whites around his eyes shimmering. "Why has the music stopped?"

A soft breeze stirred, coming from the crowd, a breath of power, inhaled
en masse
and held. My skin prickled, and I could almost sense what they were reacting to. Cyrus wasn't acting like his normal, sophisticatedly sadistic self. Something about him seemed on the verge of becoming completely unhinged, and no one wanted to be around when that happened.

But none had the balls to ditch the party. So the music was cranked up. Hesitant laughter came from everywhere at once. Conversation resumed, but no one moved.

They all waited to see what he'd do next.

Lacy brought him a long, thin, metal rod trailing a power cord.

"Thank you," Cyrus said before dismissing her and turning back to Vince. "You can end this now, you know."

Vince sagged on the chains, but held his head high. "It's over, Cyrus. Do anything you want to me. The way this ends is inevitable."

"I see." Cyrus shrugged and cleared his throat. "Hey, Mitch, you want to help me out here?"

"Sure." A skinny man jogged up to Cyrus' side, leaning close and nodding as Cyrus spoke quietly to him. His head shot up, and he leered at me. "Can I have another shot at her after?"

"Not tonight." Cyrus handed him the metal rod. "But soon."

"Good enough."

Leaving him, Cyrus strolled around Vince, trailing his hand along the chain attached to Vince's collar. Then he ran his hand up Vince's arm. "It's been too long, boy."

Vince snarled, and the chains rattled as he strained against them. Fresh blood spilled down his chest. His eyes took on a golden glow as Cyrus positioned himself behind him.

His back arched. "No!"

"You did say 'anything.'" Cyrus grunted. "Quite the invitation. How could I refuse?"

One hand on Vince's shoulder, the other on his hip, Cyrus began to move closer to him until their bodies were flush. He kissed Vince's throat and reached around to stroke his limp dick.

"So hot." Cyrus' voice carried with the music, his words almost part of the dark lyrics. "I don't remember you ever being this hot."

Panting, wrenching his wrists and ankles, Vince struggled to break away from Cyrus even as the other man guided his hips backwards in a steady rhythm. The crowd seemed enraptured by the two, beautiful bodies moving in time to a violent beat. That Vince's didn't want this was irrelevant. They'd come for a show, and they were getting one.

"Lacy, come." Cyrus called out, releasing Vince's dick so he could slick his hand through the blood covering his chest. "I think Vince needs your very talented mouth to fully enjoy this."

Lacy crept forward, her hands fisted in the skirts of her gown. I couldn't see her face, but I had a feeling she didn't like what was happening any more than I did. The spell that had taken the audience hadn't taken her.

But she still knelt before Vince and took him in her mouth. And slowly worked him until he was erect. Until he helplessly thrust his dick into her mouth and finally roared as he came.

Cyrus smiled and nodded to Mitch. "Now."

Mitch brought the red tip of the rod to Vince's face and pushed it right into his eye.

Vince's screams ripped into my skull as I blacked out.

Chapter Eighteen

My skin seemed to crack and flake away as I lifted my head from the floor, but it was only a thin layer of mud dried on my chin and cheek. I brushed it away with the back of my hand and then peered through the darkness, trying to figure out where I was. A tomb of some sort?

I held panic at bay and sat up. Touched the cold thing weighing one wrist. A shackle. Just one. I felt along the chain to where it was attached to the cement wall. It was short. Too short for me to stand up straight.

But I managed to crouch and reached up enough to assure myself that the ceiling was high. And I couldn't touch the walls on either side of me no matter how far I stretched, so the room wasn't small.

Good. You can deal with this. No need to freak out.

A deep inhale filled me with the stench of burnt meat. I pitched forward on hands and knees and lost the little that remained in my stomach. The image of Mitch burning out Vince's eye played over and over, like a scratched DVD, stuck on that one scene.

What Cyrus had done to him was worse than anything that had been done to me. Had Vince survived it?

The smell didn't go away. Which meant I probably hadn't imagined it.

Was Vince here?

My jaw was sore, but the gag was gone. I could speak.

"Vince?" His name came out raspy from my dry mouth and scratchy throat. I tried again and managed a bit more volume. "Vince?"

Nothing. He either couldn't hear me or he wasn't in the room.

So what now?

I propped myself up against the wall and tugged at the shackle on my wrist. It was almost loose enough for me to work over my hand. Maybe I could get it off and then . . . .

One step at a time. They don't lock doors here. If you're not chained, you might be able to
get out.

My stomach twisted. I knew what would happen if I tried to get out.

That will happen either way.

Very true. Vince couldn't protect me anymore. For all I knew, Vince was dead.

A heavy feeling, like stones being piled up on my chest, made it impossible to move. My limbs wouldn't cooperate; my head became cloudy. I had an overwhelming urge to just lie down and give up.

Alrik is
not
dead! He needs you! Pull yourself together.

Nodding, I turned my attention back to getting the shackle off. Feet braced against the wall, knees bent, I let my restrained wrist hang between them. I held my breath and kicked out as hard as I could.

Pain rolled up my arm, and stars danced before my eyes. A wet, cold feeling around my wrist had me checking to see if the shackle was gone.

Nope.
I sucked my teeth as my fingertips brushed a patch on the back of my hand where the metal had skinned me. I pushed at the solid band and realized the knuckle at the base of my thumb was the only thing keeping the cuff from coming off. I recalled a movie where a man had dislocated his thumb to get out of handcuffs.

I grabbed my thumb and jerked at it. Gagged as my insides twisted. My palms grew slippery, and I couldn't get a good grip.

You can do this.
I told myself firmly.
Just think!

Think. Right. How would one dislocate their thumb? Shouldn't be that hard.

Laughing quietly, I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the tools I had at my disposal. A shackle. A chain. My naked body.

Sliding closer to the wall, I tried to wrap the chain around my thumb. Too thick. I flattened my hand on the wall, pressed the edge of the shackle against the joint under my thumb with my other hand, and then threw all my weight into it. I cried out as the metal cut into my flesh.

The door flew open, and I lurched sideways to hide my hand. I wasn't sure if I'd managed to do anything other than hurt myself, but if I had, I didn't want to get caught.

Candlelight filled the room. Skirts wisped across the dirt floor. Lacy stood over me.

"What did you do?" She sighed when I refused to look at her. Her heavy, blue skirts brushed my feet as she crouched. "Let me see."

"I'm fine."

"You're covered in blood." She set something on the floor and reached for my wrist. "I'm here to help, Nicole. Please—"

"To help? More likely Cyrus sent you with food. Great. Thanks. You can . . . ." I spotted something on the floor at the far side of the room. A body. I lurched forward.

"Vince!"

Lacy slapped her hand over my mouth. "Shut up. Cyrus doesn't know I'm here."

I twisted away from her. "Then why are you?"

"Because Vince is hurt. Badly. And that matters more than how much I hate you."

She dropped her hand and shook her head. "To tell you the truth, I don't even really hate you. I'm afraid that Cyrus will lose interest in me. And when he does—"

"Then why stay? You can leave whenever you want." And maybe she finally
did
want. This was perfect! "This is your chance. You want to help? Help me and Vince get Alrik and—"

"That's impossible. The best I can do is make sure the two of you don't die in here." She dragged over the tray she'd brought. "There's food for you and medical supplies for Vince. Cyrus probably won't care . . . but . . . ." She glanced towards the door and then pulled something out from beneath a pile of bandages. "He won't be happy if he finds out I gave you this."

A flask? I frowned at her. "What good will that do?"

"If you feed Vince, he'll heal faster. Then maybe you can . . . ." She bowed her head and shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to figure it out."

"Fine." I sat back and gingerly laid my hand on my lap. It was a mess. And swollen. There'd be no way to get the shackle off now. "Take care of him first."

She nodded and put the bowl of stew and plate of sandwiches by my feet with the flask. Then she picked up the tray and went to Vince. I ate what I could while watching her tape a patch over Vince's damaged eye. I washed the tasteless food down with a few gulps of what turned out to be whiskey while she rolled him over and gently applied some kind of ointment to the raw meat of his back.

Through it all, Vince didn't make a sound. Didn't open his one good eye. Didn't seem to breathe.

"He's not . . . ." Wet bread clogged my throat. I drained the remaining whiskey and scooted as far as the chain would let me. "Can you tell if he's . . . ?"

"He's alive. They can survive a lot you know. A bit of blood and he'll be fine." She wiped her fingertips on the skirts of her old-fashioned, blue gown and unraveled a length of gauze. "You saw Mitch."

Scrawny, ugly Mitch. With two whole eyes. How could I forget him?

But if he was whole, maybe . . . . "Will Vince's eye grow back?"

She shook her head, never taking her attention from the task at hand. "It was burnt out. They are vulnerable to extreme heat. Cyrus made sure he wouldn't recover.

I've never seen him do that to one of his own people before." She finally lifted her head.

"Then again, I've never seen him this angry. Did Vince really do something to draw the hunters here?"

"Who are the 'hunters'?" Since Lacy was in the mood to share, I figured I might as well get some info. "Is Cyrus scared of them?"

"
Everyone's
scared of them. Not that he'll admit
he
is, but he gets agitated whenever they're mentioned." Lacy sat back on her hunches and hugged herself.

"They're like . . . cops I guess. Only, there's no law to keep them in line. If they came here and saw what Cyrus was doing, they'd kill everyone. He's breaking all kinds of laws, and they want him dead. The last time they killed hundreds—guilty, innocent, didn't matter. And they clean up good. Humans never know they were there, but word travels, you know? They make sure none of their kind forgets what they can do."

Wow.
From what she'd said, I had a hard time believing Vince would do anything to attract their attention. He wouldn't put Alrik in that kind of danger.

"Cyrus told you this?" My hand throbbed, and I clenched my fist to change the pain. It came sharp, then numbed. "Not that I don't believe you, but I can't imagine he'd tell anyone about the people who could bring him down."

Lips curled, Lacy inclined her head. "He wouldn't. But Darryl talks a lot after sex.

Or should I say
brags.
Like he thinks I'll be impressed that he got away that night at the Peace Church. His people getting burned alive and sliced up and he runs away. He's the fuckin' man!"

"And how did Cyrus get away? Weren't they after him?"

"Yeah." She picked up the tray and then crossed the room to grab my plate and bowl. "Well, I see him different now. Not that it changes anything. I gotta do what I gotta do to live. You get that, right?"

Very basic. Selfish maybe. But I got it. I couldn't honestly say I wouldn't have done the same in her position. She had no one but Cyrus. I had Vince and Alrik.

Speaking of Vince. "You said feeding him would help him heal. But I can't reach him."

"His chains are longer. Probably long enough to reach the door. Cyrus likely wants him to try, so . . . ." She dropped the tray by the door and went back to Vince. "I'll get him as close to you as I can, but . . . make sure he doesn't try . . . you know what will happen—"

"I know." I took a deep breath and watched her drag Vince across the room. The woman was stronger than she looked. "What's got me confused is why you seem to care about him. You're all about survival, and he can't help you with that anymore."

She slid Vince over so his head was inches from my knee. Then she leaned down and traced his lips with her fingers. "He's like the john that wants to know my name—

that isn't satisfied with a quickie. If you don't get off, he doesn't. He's different. I don't expect you to understand."

But I did. Not on her level. We'd lived very different lives. But Vince had given me something here no one else would. Because of him, I hadn't lost myself.

"I brought a knife." She dipped her hand into her bodice and pulled out a folding blade. "I can't leave it with you, but . . . ."

I reclined on my side so my thigh was by Vince's head. "He's in no condition to bite me. If you could cut me—" My throat hitched. "And hold him up . . . ."

"I can do that." She tucked the knife between her breasts and then tugged on Vince until his face could reach my thigh. "Brace yourself . . . ."

Nodding, I bit the inside of my cheek as she palmed the knife and bared the blade. She made a quick, shallow cut and then pressed Vince's mouth against my leg as the blood began to well.

The sharp sting disappeared the second the cold tip of his tongue prodded the wound. His breath was like an icy draft seeping under a door into a house with the heat turned way up. My blood was that heat. But there wasn't enough of it to warm him. Not yet.