Dark Lover (22 page)

Sam seized him. “Are you going to faint?”

He looked at her with horror. “He has a video…of me in the cage.”

Sam kept a tight grip on him. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen someone as shocked. “Ian, it was really out of focus and it was only a cage and—”

He shook her off and cut her off. “What did ye see?” he roared.

She cringed inwardly. “Just a boy!”

“Ye saw me!”

She wanted to cry. She thought her eyes felt moist. She slowly nodded. “No one would ever be able to tell that it was you,” she tried.

“You could tell!”

Sam took his hand. He flung her off. “C'mon! You have a really rotten past. I know it—you know it. Damn it, no one else should know it—I agree with you. But this is real life. Life isn't fair. Others know it, too. Hemmer showed me the one clip. I'm sorry.”

Ian stormed past her, into the media room. “How many tapes of me does he have?”

She followed. “I have no idea. Did you know they were taping…you?”

He paused when he was inches from the big screen. He was trembling wildly now. “I can't do this,” he suddenly said, not turning.

She did not like the sound of that.

He did not look at her. “I'm going to sell the page today.”

Her stomach churned with dread. She sensed where he was going. “Ian.”

“No. I don't have yer courage. I never have.”

She wet her lips. “That's so unfair. What you've been through—”

He cut her off. “Let it be, Sam. I'm taking the money and leaving.”

She breathed hard. He was running away. Even though she'd never run from a fight in her life, she understood with her heart and her soul why his instinct was to run. Now was not the time to argue or point out the many instances of bravery she'd witnessed. She kept silent.

He ejected the DVD and faced her, his eyes blazing with hatred and fear now. “So this is goodbye.” His mouth curled. “Unless ye want to come home with me because ye owe me a thank you. In which case, I expect sex. Not talking, not questions an' not pity. Just fucking.”

It was hard to be flip now. “Wow, you have a way with words. I can't wait to go home with you.”

He pushed past her.

It was probably one of the worst instincts she'd ever had, but she did not want him to go back to that Park Avenue mansion alone, especially not with that video in his hand. Sam fought herself. She wasn't Tabby. She didn't know how to nurture or comfort. She knew how to fight; she knew how to get a guy laid. But maybe it was time to learn how to comfort. Because Ian Maclean was in pain.

Sam followed him out.

 

A
S THEY ENTERED
Maclean's Park Avenue home, the silence instantly disturbed Sam. Even though he lived alone with the butler, the house should have felt different. But it felt dark and empty, vacant—like a gaping hole in the universe.

Ian had been brooding darkly the entire drive uptown. He'd driven his Escalade recklessly, as if he didn't care if they crashed into another vehicle. Maybe the silence and his distress were just getting to her.

He'd used the key code to get in. The huge door closed behind them. Sam felt her gut churn with unease. “It's too quiet. Something's wrong,” she said. “The vibe here has changed.”

“Nothing's wrong,” he snapped. He gave her a cool look. “Ye know where my bedroom is. Why don't ye go up and get comfortable?”

If she didn't know how upset he was about the video, she'd have called him on that unbelievable remark. “You need a drink. So do I. And Maclean? You might want to be nice for about a second, because I didn't come back here to do you. The jury's still out.”

He strode down the hall, leaving her standing alone by the front door.

He was in a helluva mood, she thought. She probably didn't have to worry about whether to go to bed with him or not. That video had dampened his desire, and his reaction to it had certainly dampened hers.

She did not want to know what else was on that tape.

There were three floors in the town house. Maclean was going up the stairs, forgoing the elevator. Now that she knew he was claustrophobic, she was not surprised. She slowly followed. “Maybe we can ask Gerard to bring us something to eat,” she said on the stairs.

He vanished at the second landing.

Sam glanced around, wondering where the butler was. Unease was slithering down her spine now. She saw an intercom by the top of the stairs on the landing, and she quickly pressed the starred button. “Gerard?”

When there was no answer, she tried the rest of the buttons, indicating other rooms, but Gerard did not answer. Her unease escalated. Maybe Ian had given him the night off.

She went down the dark, barely lit hall and found Maclean in a large theatre, the DVD in his hand.

She paused on the threshold of the burgundy room. “You don't need to watch that.”

He faced her. “Wait for me upstairs.”

“We're not doing the deed. We're going to have a drink, eat something, and think about how to confront Hemmer and the monk,” she said firmly. Then she heard herself. She sounded like her sister!

“I invited ye here fer sex. If ye don't want to go upstairs, then get out.” He marched to the entertainment center and jammed his hand on the DVD player. The tray opened.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam cried.

“Fuck off,” he snarled. “Ye saw it, didn't ye?” He jammed the DVD into the tray.

He was out of control. Did he want to inflict more pain on himself? She was determined to stop him.

The screen brightened.

Sam cursed. She strode forward and wrenched the remote from his hand. His eyes widened in shock.

“What will revisiting your past accomplish? Two very evil and powerful beings are out there, and we've both been threatened. Sitting here and wallowing in what they did to you won't help us fight back. We need to prepare, and we need to call in backup.”

He seized her wrist, so brutally Sam was shocked. For one moment, she thought he'd snap her bones.

But he didn't. “Get out,” he said fiercely. “Get out now. There is no ‘we,' Sam. There is no ‘us.' So just get out and leave me alone.”

Sam breathed hard, almost blinded by the pain of his grasp—or was it the pain she suddenly saw in his eyes? She nodded. He released her. She didn't hesitate. She handed him the remote.

“You're right. There is no ‘us.' I've been feeling sorry for you, and I've lost sight of the fact that you're a selfish jerk. Because even though you came back to Hemmer's to help me out today, none of this would be happening if you weren't one greedy bastard. If you gave Nick the page, it would be over. The demon monk and Hemmer would have to attack CDA and the entire United States government to get it, and we'd be out of the picture.”

He pressed Play.

“So go ahead, self-flagellate.”

He ignored her.

She almost stayed to watch him, as he watched himself being tortured in the past. But what would that accomplish? She wasn't Tabby. And he didn't want comfort anyway. He seemed to want to suffer. He was a wounded tiger in a cage, and right now, he was dangerous. Her wrist still hurt from the way he'd manhandled her. She didn't know whether he was going to implode or explode, but a cataclysm felt imminent.

She hurried from the room as the clawing sounds began. In the hallway she halted, so tense she was ill. She hated what he was doing to himself now.

Hemmer might be human, but he was evil, and he had to go. That probably wouldn't be a problem. The monk, on the other hand, was worrisome.

She heard the frightened breathing now. Sam turned. It crossed her mind that she might not be able to comfort him, but she could distract him…maybe. But before she could go back in and begin a seduction, she heard him roar. The sound was one of rage and anguish. Then she heard the media center come crashing down.

Sam ran back to the room. Ian stood amidst the ruins of the home theatre, which he'd clearly destroyed with his powers. He held his head with both hands, shoulders heaving. She bit her lip and backed out.

He was crying.

Damn it, where was Gerard?

Sam rushed downstairs, heading into the back of the house, where the kitchens would be. Maclean would not want her to see him shedding tears, especially not a second time. The lights were on, illuminating a very contemporary kitchen, mostly black and stainless steel.

The moment she saw the refrigerator door wide open, with no one in sight, she knew something was terribly wrong.

She ran past the granite center island.

Gerard lay motionless on the floor, face up, eyes closed, his face waxen, covered in blood. She'd seen enough victims of violence to know that he'd been stabbed many times and that the blood was his own.

“Maclean!” Sam screamed. Even as she did, she knew there was no way he could hear her from the second floor. She knelt, seeking a pulse. But there was no beat in his artery, and there was so much blood…

Maclean appeared in the kitchen.

Sam looked up. “I can't find a pulse.”

He saw Gerard and froze. His eyes widened, and then he choked on horror.

Sam still held Gerard's wrist. As she did, his arm jerked. “Shit, Maclean, I think he's alive!”

Ian knelt, breathing hard. As Sam reached for her cell phone, it crossed her mind that he cared about his servant a lot. “Do not melt down,” Sam said, reaching for him. She gripped his arm and he looked at her, his eyes filled with panic. “Can you heal him, Ian?”

Lucidity returned. He inhaled. “I've never healed anyone until a few minutes ago.”

She'd analyze that astounding fact later. “Maybe you had better try,” she said, speed-dialing the paramedics on Five.

Ian laid his hands directly on Gerard's mangled, bloody chest. As Sam spoke to the dispatch, she saw Ian's color returning, which meant he was getting a grip on himself. Then she saw the wave of white rain coming from his hands, mingling with the blood. “Tell them to hurry,” she said, ending the call.

Ian closed his eyes tightly, focused now. His face changed, lines of strain becoming etched there. White rain poured from his hands and began dripping off his shoulders, his neck, and his chest. Sam sat back, watching, stunned. While she could feel his desperation, she also felt his resolve. The one person he cared about was Gerard. He was terrified Gerard would die.

So Sam prayed.

Prayer wasn't her thing. But the Rose women worshipped the old deities, and it was as fundamental as observing the Wisdoms in the Book. As she prayed, she was acutely aware that without Gerard, Ian would be alone in the world.

The white rain kept coming.

Gerard's face relaxed, as if it had previously been set against pain. His eyelashes flickered. “You're doing it, Ian,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

He didn't answer her, shaking like a leaf now.

She took Gerard's wrist and this time she found a steady pulse. As she held it, the pulse became stronger and stronger. His chest seemed less mangled, the wounds became grayish-pink, instead of raw red. Ian moaned.

Gerard opened his eyes. He saw her and gasped with recollection.

The wounds turned pinker now, as the beginnings of infection were chased away.

“Don't move,” Sam told him. “Maclean's healing you.” And doing a damned good job, she thought. But she was worried about him. “Ian, maybe you should stop.”

Ian gave no sign that he heard her.

Gerard glanced up at Ian now. “A monk came,” he managed. “There's no more time.” He took a huge breath. “I think I'm fine, sir,” he said.

“You're not fine. Don't speak,” Sam told him grimly.
The monk had done this
.

Had he decided to take out his rage on Gerard after being thwarted by Ian at the vault? Was this retribution, or a warning? He had known just where Ian lived and who to go after to get at him. And that meant that the monk had been keeping tabs on Maclean.

Ian's terrible shaking suddenly become convulsive. He opened his eyes, and looked at her, gasping.

“You need to stop,” she cried, sliding her arm around him.

His eyes closed, and he keeled over, unconscious.

 

S
AM WAS PACING
when the medics from Five arrived. Nick was on their heels, and so was Jan.

Gerard knelt beside Ian. As the medics rushed in with their equipment, Sam ran up to them. “He was healing,” she told them. “He began to shake and moan and then he simply passed out.”

“A Healer, huh?” the big, brawny medic said, kneeling and strapping a blood pressure cuff on Maclean. “We don't see many of those anymore.”