Dangerous Lovers (103 page)

“No!” Pete screamed, charging forward only to be pulled back by the chains. “You fucking bastards! I’ll kill you all, I swear it, I’ll kill you all.”

Roman laughed. “Go on,” he told them.

Seamus lifted his head, meeting his gaze across the small space.

“Please,” Pete said in a whisper. They couldn’t do this. Not to Seamus. The first hit split the skin on his right cheek right open. Pete pulled at the chains harder, feeling the metal cut into his skin. “DAMN YOU!” He strained forward, tearing at his skin more, but he didn’t care. Each hit to Seamus was killing a part of him. “DAMN YOU!” he cried out.

Seamus was crying now. Pete wasn’t sure if he was trying to speak. If he was, it was unintelligible around the blood and swollen lips. It felt like his heart was being ripped from his body. Pete looked to Roman. “Please,” he said. “Put me in that chair. I’ll take the beating. Just let him go before he’s dead.
Please
.” Roman’s face was expressionless. Pete looked back to Seamus, another whimper escaping him. “Seamus?” he called out. “Seamus?”

Slowly, his best friend lifted his head and met his gaze. Tears were pouring down Pete’s face now. He tried to move closer even though he knew there was no point. His mouth opened, but no words came out. What could he say? Nothing could express what this was doing to him. One of the soldiers hit upward, landing square on his jaw. Seamus’ head snapped backward and stayed there.

“NO!” Pete screamed. A sob broke out. “Seamus? Oh God. Seamus?” He didn’t move. Pete tried to see if he was breathing, but he couldn’t tell from there. A phone rang suddenly, cutting into the eerie silence of the room. Roman held up his hand to stop the two soldiers. He walked away, his voice low as he spoke to whoever was on the other line.

Pete’s blood roared in his ears as he kept his eyes on Seamus. He barely acknowledged it when Roman came back to stand in front of him – until he spoke. “St. Anne’s Cathedral,” he said.

Pete’s eyes met his. They stared at each other for what felt like a long time, until a slow smile spread across the other man’s face. “Looks like I didn’t need you two after all,” he said. “Here’s a tip,
mate
. Never befriend a mind reader.”

His head was shaking before he even realized he was doing it. This was not Dinah. It couldn’t be.

Roman stepped closer, his voice dropping so only Pete could hear it. “You didn’t think I knew, did you? Here’s a secret for you, I
always
know what she’s up to. Who do you think sent her to you?” They looked at each other. “The only reason she was there was to find out information. That’s all it was ever about.”

“You don’t know shit,” Pete spat.

“I know a lot more than you do. Tell me, did she ever tell you her real name?” Pete pressed his lips together. This was just a game, he told himself. He was just trying to fill his head with lies so he’d turn against her. “I’m betting she didn’t. All those nights together, and you never knew. What about Bridgette? Did she know?”

Pete’s head snapped back. “What do you know about Bridgette?”

“I know your sorry ass doesn’t deserve her,” he said. “How does it feel knowing you were doing sisters? Does that make you feel like a bigger man?”

Sisters? Pete’s mind raced to keep up. What was he talking about? “I can see the confusion on your face. Didn’t she tell you? Dinah’s real name is Charlotte,” he said, his eyes searching his face. “Charlotte Hatcher.”

Everything around him seemed to freeze. Seamus, the soldiers, everything blurred in the background as he focused on Roman. Dinah was Charlotte Hatcher? That was impossible. Charlotte had died with her mother…Pete’s heart sank. Dinah’s story came back, her voice echoing in his head. Of course. The army was looking for Douglas that day, and she had said he father was a rebel. Oh my God, Pete thought. Did Douglas know?

“You make me sick,” Roman said, his voice filled with venom. Pete looked back up to meet his eyes. “Both of those girls deserve better.”

“I don’t know what you think you know,” Pete said. “But Bridgette is my friend. I’m the only family she has left. I’ve never done a thing with her, except make sure she was safe and alive.” Pete watched as his words sank in. He thought he saw a flash of horror in the other man’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure.

Neither of them said anything until Roman stepped back and told his men to pack up. “Stay away from Lottey,” he said to Pete, his eyes hard. Pete wanted to laugh. As if he needed that warning. Dinah wasn’t even Dinah. She was some other girl he didn’t even know. This whole time, everything between them, it had all been a lie – she was just there to spy on him. As far as Pete was concerned, she was dead to him. No one else could have given them St. Anne’s but her. She was able to read his mind now, and never once had she let on. Did she know what was being done to them right now? Had she played a part in this too? Was that why she had to leave so early this morning? He felt sicker than he had in his entire life. “I’ll let you live so you can watch everything you’ve built crumble to pieces. Consider it a gift. Next time we’re alone, you might not be so lucky,” Roman continued.

Before he could say anything back, pain erupted just behind his ear again and everything went blissfully to black. The last thing he thought was what a fool he had been, because he was pretty sure he had fallen in love with her. He had fallen in love with a lie.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was eight in the morning when she started home. Bridgette had decided to go out for Michelle’s birthday the night before, and ended up crashing at her place. As she walked toward her apartment, head pounding, eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight, she decided she was no longer going out to celebrate birthdays. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this crappy. Not that she hadn’t been drunk before, she had, but every time she felt like this she swore she’d never do it again – this time she meant it.

As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she heard tiny footsteps on the landing above. Smiling to herself, she crouched low, coming up quieter than before. She waited, just at the top, pressing her body close to the wall. Counting to three, she threw her upper body forward with a “Ah ha!” causing the tiny boy waiting there to erupt into giddy screams.

“You thought you had me, didn’t you?” she laughed, walking up the rest of the way and scooping him up. “How are you this morning Mr. Timothy, my favourite little three year old?”

“Fine,” he said smiling, one of his front teeth missing. She mussed his strawberry blonde hair and set him down in front of the open door to his apartment. Bridgette poked her head inside.

“Hey Karen,” she called out. Timothy’s mother stood in the kitchen, her back turned. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Bridgette.

“Hey you,” she said. “How was work?”

Bridgette shrugged. “Same as always.”

“Why are you just getting home now?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. Timothy squealed as his little sister, Stella, chased him.

Turning back to their mom, Bridgette replied, “It was my friend’s birthday so I crashed at her place.”

“Well you’ve been a pretty popular girl this morning.”

Bridgette looked at her, confused. “Popular?”

Karen nodded. “Two guys came by here this morning looking for you. Timothy’s been in and out all morning, so I saw both of them.”

Probably McKay, Bridgette thought. He was always checking up on her.

“One of them said he’s your father,” she said.

Bridgette’s whole body heated in anger. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Had she not made herself clear? She wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’ve never even heard of you mentioning your father, so I assumed he was lying.”

Bridgette smiled tightly. “We’re not close,” she said.

“Oh. So he was your dad? Well now I feel bad for being so rude,” she said with a laugh. “I just figured he was an admirer from the club.”

“Don’t worry, I would have been rude had I been here.”

Karen frowned, but didn’t comment. Bridgette waved goodbye, wishing them a good day and turned to go to her apartment.

“Wait,” Karen called out. “The other guy,” she hesitated. “I’m not sure, but I think he was that Roman Adamson fellow. Don’t take my word for it,” she quickly said as Bridgette’s mouth dropped open. “I’ve only seen him a couple of times, so I can’t be sure. But I don’t know too many men with long, dark hair like that, and so…built,” she said, blushing.

Roman? That didn’t make sense. Bridgette’s head swirled. Why on earth would Roman come to her place? And how would he know where she lived? He’s the second in command, she reminded herself. He probably knew where everyone lived, or could easily find out. It should make her nervous that he’d seek her out, and yet her stomach rolled with excitement instead. Bridgette muttered something about it probably being someone else and hurried over to her apartment. As soon as she walked in the door she spotted the folded note on the floor. Her father’s handwriting was unmistakable across the front.

That’s
it,
she growled inwardly. Grabbing the piece of paper off the floor, she slammed the door behind her and headed back down the stairs.

As soon as McKay answered after the third knock she knew something was wrong. Not just from the bruises on him, because really that was normal for McKay, but from the panicked look in his eyes and the paleness of his skin.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

He reached out and pulled her in, not saying a word. Dragging her behind him, they headed to his bedroom where a figure lay covered up in his bed. Bridgette stepped up beside it and looked down to see Seamus passed out. His face was almost unrecognizable from all the cuts and bruises. There was a deep, open wound bleeding on his right cheek that she could tell immediately would never heal without scarring. And from the angle of his nose, she guessed that was broken. Both eyes were swollen, his lips bleeding. All in all, he was a mess.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“Roman Adamson happened,” he replied, his voice robotic. She looked back in shock, her blood cold. “And Weapon X.”

Dinah patted down her skin with her towel. Her uniform and mask lay on the bed in front of her. She stared down at it, hating that she needed to hide herself once again. Every time she left Pete’s and came here to take on the persona of Weapon X, she hated it a little more. Being with Pete was freeing. Her life here had become suffocating in a way, and didn’t feel as right anymore. Maybe it was never right, she argued.

Someone banged on her door. “What?” she called out.

“We’re suiting up and heading out in ten,” a male voice said through the door. “Ludwig wants you ready to move.”

Heading out where? Dinah dressed quickly and started for his office. She wasn’t aware of them going anywhere today. Mind you, it wasn’t like she had been paying close attention these days. Most of their meetings she spent daydreaming about her time with Pete. He was addictive and she was both scared and excited at the fact that she was in love with him. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever have the guts to say it to him, especially not first. But she knew it was true, and it was real. The first real thing she felt in a long time.

When she rounded the corner, she spotted Roman pacing outside Ludwig’s office. He stopped and stared at her when he saw her approaching. Something was wrong. She’d known Roman long enough to know when he was genuinely upset. His hair lay loosely around his shoulders, a little messier than usual. Probably from his running his hands through it, which he only did when he was agitated. His mouth was set in a grim line, and she could see his hands flexing at his sides.

“What’s going on?” she asked when she reached him. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

“Can I ask you something?” he said, ignoring her questions.

Okay, this was weird. “Sure,” she replied hesitantly.

“Do you ever have regrets?”

“What kind of regrets?”

“Over the things we do or have done. Do you ever look back on them and regret having done those things?”

She looked at him searchingly. Where was this coming from? He stared back, his face emotionless except for his eyes that were just brimming with things she couldn’t decipher. “I guess I don’t really let myself think about it too much,” she admitted. “I don’t like living with regrets.”

“There must be something,” he pushed. She shrugged. This wasn’t the type of conversation she wanted to be having with him, otherwise she might let it slip that she regretted coming back here every day instead of staying with their enemy. Who she just happened to be in love with. Yeah, no, there was no way she was telling him that.

“Why? What do you regret?” she asked.

His eyes roamed over her slowly, making her shift nervously under his stare. “You,” he said, his voice dropping lower.

“Me? What about me?”

“I regret you,” he said. “I regret dragging you into this mess and giving you this life.” He shook his head, looking off into nothing. When he looked back she could see the anger in his eyes. Not at her, but at himself. “You deserve better than this.”