Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) (15 page)

He hung up once he got everything in order. “Joe Barcelona will be here tomorrow morning, and he’s been fully briefed on the Anson situation. He’ll take care of you.”

Jennifer finally relaxed. “I know him. He was with me right after—you know.”

“Okay, good, so you can trust him.”

She looked out the window toward the river, relief apparent in every line of her body. “Thank you.”

Nick paused when they reached the porch and Jennifer was out of earshot. “Joe being here means we don’t have to stay,” he told Sam.

Sam shook his head. “I have to go to Atlanta, but you two should head to Rhode Island. We can meet you there once I find Riley.”

“I don’t think so.” Nick’s hands were shoved casually in his pockets, but Sam recognized his stance, ready to fight at any provocation. “If Tournado’s on the move again, you know I’m not staying out of it.”

“No. Of course not.”

Nick slapped Sam on the shoulder and headed to the car. Sam hesitated despite his urgency to get on the move. The river flowing a few dozen yards away still pulled at him, the oddest sensation he’d ever felt. He was tempted to reach out, to connect, to see if he could channel the free-flowing energy he could almost taste. It scared him how visceral the need was, and the fear made him think of Riley. Had she gotten in over her head or simply failed to charge her phone’s battery? She might be huddled somewhere, hiding and afraid, or captured and hurt. He couldn’t let the changes from the transfer get in the way. Not now.

Not ever.

…

Riley stood against the wall next to the door, holding still and listening hard, but cursing whatever dampened the acoustics in this place. The men’s voices rose and fell, but the snippets she got didn’t make much sense to her.

She was acutely aware that Vern was out there somewhere, doing whatever he’d been told to do before Riley could hear them. He was probably looking for the person who’d broken the office’s lock. To be safe, she kept a constant draw of energy through the chains so it was ready if she needed it. Her skin warmed where the chains touched, a tangible confirmation of the flow into her body.

“Mr. Tournado, we’re not interested in hearing the details. We want to know the results. What is your recruitment rate?”

That was confirmation that Anson was running the company. But even if he owned it, he was obviously working for these other guys now. To recruit who? Goddesses, she assumed, based on the tactics Sam had described. But for what?

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased that we’ve had positive response to our efforts in several quarters.” Anson’s voice dropped, then rose again. “Two goddess contracts should be closed by the end of the week.”

“That’s not as fast as targeted,” said another of the suits. “Nor as many. We had higher hopes for you.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Anson said in a way that implied the opposite, “I’m not operating in a vacuum. These women are a tighter group, far warier and more suspicious than they were three years ago. Changing tactics is wise, but you must revise your expectations.”

“If they
are
warier and more difficult to approach,” one of the men said, “it’s due to your high-level failure last time. There is no three strikes rule, Mr. Tournado. Instead of lecturing us on our expectations, you should be working harder to live up to them.”

Riley blinked, not quite believing what she’d just heard. Anson had been working for these guys three years ago? He’d been leeching on someone else’s orders? No one else seemed aware of that.

She realized that in her surprise she’d stopped drawing energy. The chains had gone cold and heavy around her arms. She quickly pulled more—too quickly, and too much. Searing pain flashed up her arms. She barely stifled a gasp and released her pull on the energy. The metal still burned, but she couldn’t unwrap the chains without giving away her presence.

An odd sensation prickled in her head, distracting her. She’d never felt such a thing before. It was like sound made physical, and coming from Anson’s office next door. But when she focused again, concentrating on the prickle instead of the pain in her arms, it disappeared. It was like seeing something in peripheral vision at twilight, but looking directly at it made it disappear.

They were talking about money now, the legitimacy of expenses. Riley relaxed, and the prickling reappeared immediately. What the heck was that? She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, keeping a slight awareness of the prickles in her head while trying not to let the burn in her arms distract her. After a few seconds she realized there were three distinct clusters of sensation, plus one lighter buzz, all centered in the office next door. Was she…detecting the people in there?

Focusing made the sensation immediately disappear again. The suits were making conversation-closing comments as they walked down the hall to the main entry.

Riley waited, but after a few minutes, silence reigned. Anson must have left with the suits. She didn’t know where Vern was, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the prickles back. That could mean one of three things: she had been imagining things when it happened the first time, it had really happened but had stopped working, or she was
actually
detecting the presence of specific people. Part of her was disappointed, but part of her was scared, too. Maybe it was another aspect of being a goddess, but it wasn’t something she’d ever heard or read about. Marley and John definitely hadn’t mentioned it.

She wasn’t going to think about it right now. Letting out a long, slow breath, she peeled back her sleeves. The skin under the chains was an angry red, maybe burned down into the top layer. She couldn’t tell without moving the chains, and right now she had to get out before someone found her.

She peered through the crack in the door to make sure no one had snuck back into Anson’s office, held the files tight against her side, and then moved quickly toward the hallway.

Which wasn’t empty.

Riley froze. Anson leaned against the wall across from her, his arms folded, smiling at her. There was no reason for her to be surprised, but he was better looking than she’d imagined. Not really tall or muscular, but fit and well proportioned. He had thick, dark hair, defined cheekbones and jaw, and interesting blue eyes that were like fabric that had been saturated with color, then faded unevenly. She wondered how brilliant they’d been when he had all that power.

“Hello, Riley.”

She swallowed her panic and responded, “Hello, Anson.” That earned her a laugh, but anger blazed in his eyes.

“You’ve heard about me, then.”

“Some.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know why you keep coming after me.” She kept her body at an angle, wishing she’d stuffed the files into her rear waistband or something. If he took them from her, this would all be for nothing—unless she could somehow get him to talk.

She pushed her hair back so her sleeve shifted and exposed the chain around her arm. Anson followed the movement, his expression tightening. Not in fear, but in caution. He knew what metal meant to her.

“You heard my conversation, I assume.”

“Some of it.” Riley shrugged. “I couldn’t hear much, and none of it had anything to do with me.” She met his glare. “Or maybe it did. You want goddesses again, obviously. But you didn’t try to recruit me. What was the plan?” All of the events of the past year added up to one possibility. “Make me vulnerable, then swoop in and save me? So I’d be so grateful I’d do anything for you?”

Any trace of amusement vanished. “Something like that. Looks like it worked perfectly.”

“Except you didn’t swoop in. Sam Remington beat you to it.”

Anson’s expression darkened.
Button pressed.
His arms dropped to his sides, and he straightened away from the wall. Riley raised her forearm and drew a little energy. It made her hiss at the renewed pain, but Anson didn’t seem to notice. He shifted away from her but didn’t look any less angry.

“Everything was perfect that night. You were strung tight, frightened and confused. It would have worked exactly as I’d planned.”

“Until you fucked it up. You let Sam move in ahead of you.”

“I had no choice. The Numina—”

Riley narrowed her eyes. That word again. Was it a group? Were those men part of it?

Anson hauled visibly on the reins of his control. “Never mind. That’s in the past. You’re here now.” He smiled again, a clear shift in tactic, and Riley had no trouble seeing the charm that had seduced the goddesses he leeched. He wasn’t giving up on her. Maybe she could pretend to be vulnerable and get him to talk.

“How did you find out about me?” she asked. “The Society didn’t have any records.
I
didn’t even know I was a goddess.”

He didn’t hesitate to answer her, perhaps thinking he could lure her in with some of the information she’d come for. Or maybe he was just a braggart. “My grandmother kept journals. She was close to your grandmother. Grams wrote about how angry Nessie was about her Society membership being revoked. She’d had a bare remnant of ability, but they didn’t care. She didn’t fit their definitions. Her daughter—your mother—had no power. My grandmother thought she knew why and said it would probably come back in you.”

Riley wondered how much the woman had actually known and how much she’d only suspected, perhaps not even accurately. Still, Anson’s take on it explained even better why her grandmother had so much hate. “So you know all this because of some old journals? Kind of creepy, if you ask me.”

His smile faded. “No. We were close, me and my grandmother. The line died with my mother, so there weren’t going to be any more Millinger goddesses. She talked to me a lot about it.”

He sounded lonely, and Riley had to fight a surge of empathy. “So you thought you’d be my Henry Higgins?”

One side of his mouth lifted. Charm, again. “I wanted you to be my partner.”

Riley scoffed, but he seemed to be…sincere. She pondered pushing a little, asking about Numina or the men in the office, but something told her if she didn’t leave now, she’d lose her chance. She wanted to tell him to forget it, that she’d never consider working with him, but knew her only option was to keep him hoping.

“You’ve given me plenty to think about. I have your business card. I’ll be in touch.” She waved a hand and turned toward the exit, holding her breath and bracing for Anson to grab her arm, or worse. But he only said, “I think you’re forgetting something.”

She raised her eyebrows, her heart thudding against her breastbone.

“My files?” He plucked them out from under her arm. She opened her mouth to protest, but he said, “Shall I call the police about your breaking and entering and attempted theft? Or would you rather owe me one?”

Riley ground her teeth and let go of the files. She was getting damned tired of the bad guys threatening to turn the tables on her.

“That’s what I thought.” He waved the folders down the hall. “Don’t lose that business card.”

Riley had no choice but to put her back to him and walk to the exit. He knew she was armed, and he seemed to be leaving open the possibility of winning her over to his side. She couldn’t help but be a little grateful for that.

Who knew what he’d be capable of if he had nothing to lose?

Chapter Ten

Keep your friends close. Don’t have enemies.

—Numina Manifesto
, revised

Riley didn’t breathe again until she was back on the highway, heading north. It was a good thing traffic was light because she couldn’t really remember getting in the car. Her arms burned and ached, weighed down by the heavy chains now that she wasn’t drawing energy. And might never again, after this. She’d never tried to sustain a connection that long, and obviously, it wasn’t a good idea. Neither was trying to unwrap the chains while she was driving, but she had to keep moving, had to get as far away as possible from Anson. He might have let her go, but only because he knew how to find her again when he wanted to.

She had to call Sam.

Her chest tightened, air feeling too thick to drag into her lungs. She had enough presence of mind to know a panic attack was approaching. She was alone, and pursued, and couldn’t use her abilities for defense right now, and that put her right back where she’d started. Right where Anson had wanted her.

But you’re not alone anymore
, a voice in the back of her head reminded her. No one was in the car with her, or even in Atlanta, but she had people she could call. People who’d help her. Who needed to know what she’d learned.

She pulled off at the next exit and made her way to a crowded section of a Walmart parking lot. First she had to get these chains off. She left the car running while she fumbled to open the clips, unfastened the chains, and slowly unwrapped them. Oh, God, that hurt. Her eyes watered when the chain stuck before peeling away from her damaged skin. She wished healing came naturally to her like John said it did to others, but it was one thing he couldn’t train her in, even if she had the ability. They’d discussed setting her up with another goddess in a few weeks, but that did her no good now.

She dropped the first chain to the floor and sat back in her seat, eyes closed, gulping air. The smart thing to do would be to go inside and buy some bandages, but she didn’t have the energy to leave the car. And she still had to face removing the other chain. It took several minutes to work up to it, and then another few for recovery. She poured bottled water over the red stripes and carefully pulled her sleeves down, as if not seeing the wounds would make them hurt less.

Then she dug out her phone. She should call Marley, who had to be worried about her by now. Or John, to report what she’d learned. But she dialed Sam’s number automatically, craving the connection and comfort he always provided.

“Where the hell are you?” he answered after only half a ring.

Riley burst into tears. She got herself under control quickly, but the damage was done. Sam cursed, and Riley heard keys jingle and a door slam, cutting off a shout of anger.

“Where are you?” he repeated. A car door creaked and then banged shut, and an engine turned over before Riley could clear her throat, inhale, and try to answer him.

“I’m okay,” she said first, because he seemed to need to hear it. “I’m outside of Atlanta.”

“Alone? If Tournado hurt you…”

“No, he didn’t.” She sniffled and opened her glove compartment to dig for a tissue. “He could have—he caught me with files in his office—but he let me go. Said now I owe him.”

Sam cursed again, and the engine revved as if he’d pressed down on the accelerator while still in neutral. “I’m coming to you. Don’t move.”

That made Riley laugh. She wiped her nose and leaned against her seat again, feeling a lot better. Safer, though he was still hundreds of miles away. “Don’t be silly, Sam. You don’t even have your own car. You flew to Mississippi, right?”

After a few beats of silence, the engine shut off. “John called me. We were on our way to Atlanta, but Quinn got sick and we had to stop for a couple of hours.” His frustration was clear, and Riley regretted making him feel that way. “I kind of lost it when I heard your voice after getting your voice mail all day.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I didn’t know.”

“Anyway, I was about to take the Charger. Nick’s car,” he clarified. “He’s gonna—yeah, there he is. He’s gonna kill me.”

“Not if I can help it. Listen, Sam, I have to tell you what’s happening. I—”

“Not over the phone,” Sam interrupted. “I need to get to you.”

She shivered at the idea that someone was monitoring them, and it eliminated the slight comfort she’d gained hearing his voice. If someone knew their locations and could track them down… Then again, Anson had found her somehow, again and again, without ever having to trace a phone call.

Maybe it didn’t matter what they did.

Riley listened to paper rattling, as if he’d unfolded a map. Another car door opened, and a man’s voice said, “You’re trying to get me locked up for homicide, right? That’s your plan?”

“I need to meet up with Riley coming from Atlanta,” Sam said away from the phone. “What’s the best route from here?”

“What’s going on? She okay?”

“I’m fine,” Riley muttered.

The man—Nick, she guessed—named a route number Riley remembered passing a few minutes ago. She hit the speaker button and set the phone on the seat beside her, backing out of her parking space and speeding toward the lot exit before Sam had even told her what to do.

“We’ll head your way,” he said, “and you head ours. We’ll meet in a couple of hours in the middle. We’ll figure out a place when we get closer. Call me every thirty minutes so I know you’re okay.”

She blinked fast against the sting in her eyes. “I will. Thanks, Sam.” She hung up without looking, her attention on the long, wide road ahead of her.

A little more than two hours later, she pulled up beside the cool, old muscle car in the parking lot of the steakhouse outside Birmingham, Alabama. Sam, who’d been pacing behind the Charger, watching nervously as she drove up, hurried around to open her door and haul her into his arms.

“Thank God you’re okay.”

“I told you I was,” she insisted against his chest, her words muffled. She wrapped her arms awkwardly around his waist, trying not to rub or put pressure on her chain burns, and let his big, warm body swallow her up. For the first time in hours, her body stopped pumping adrenaline. She clung to him for a long moment that partially balanced the queasy shakiness as the hormone drained out of her system. She inhaled the scent of his skin and laundry soap and faded aftershave, an already familiar combination, and one that was a little arousing despite her exhaustion. His arms were so strong, his chest and abdomen hard against her body, and…

And he buzzed.

Like Anson had buzzed. Somewhere at a level of awareness Riley didn’t normally use. The uneasiness she hadn’t realized she held vanished. It couldn’t be a bad thing because this was Sam.

“Let’s go inside.” He shifted to walk beside her, his arm around her shoulders. “Nick and Quinn already got a table. She really needed to eat.”

Riley had so much crowding her head, wanting out. Confusion about the buzzing and prickling, curiosity and concern about the transfer they were supposed to be doing this weekend, and speculation about everything she’d heard in Atlanta. But it all had to wait, some of it until much later.

They went inside the rustic, crowded restaurant decorated in antler chandeliers and red-and-white-checked vinyl. Sam waved off the hostess and took Riley to a corner booth, away from the bulk of the families filling the place.

“Have a seat.” Sam let her slide onto the bench and followed her. “Riley Kordek, this is Quinn Caldwell and Nick Jarrett.”

“Hi.” Riley smiled shyly. The beautiful fortyish woman seemed to be upright only by virtue of the hot blond guy propping her. “I really appreciate that you came all this way to get me.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Quinn eyed Sam as she said it, a twinkle in her eye that belied her obvious weariness, and Riley was surprised and amused to see him blush.

“Glad to meet you.” Nick saluted her with his beer bottle before taking a swig. He looked like he wanted to launch into an interrogation, but the server approached to take their orders. Riley let Sam talk her into a steak, knowing she needed a real meal to help her recover from everything that had happened. She hoped it’d calm her stomach, which now roiled unpleasantly, still protesting the fight-or-flight response she’d put it through.

“All right.” Nick leaned forward. “Tell us what you got in Atlanta. What’s Millinger, and what’s he doing with it?”

“Nothing good,” Riley said. “And nothing by himself.” She told them about the men in the office, and how the conversation sounded like they were trying to recruit goddesses, or maybe coerce them. “I don’t know what for, though. Anson works for the men, but his plans for me seemed completely separate.” She explained what he’d said about his grandmother’s journal. “He wanted to rescue me. Make me grateful and stuff. But you did that.” She smiled at Sam, who frowned.

“That all fits. But why didn’t he move in sooner?”

“He said something about not having a choice, because of the Numina? I overheard John and Jeannine mention them, too. She wanted to keep it quiet until they knew more, but he didn’t want to.”

Sam’s frown turned into a scowl. “This must be what John wanted to talk to me about, but he didn’t get a chance because I took off to Mississippi.”

Nick frowned thoughtfully. “Numina,” he repeated.

“That’s Latin,” Sam said.

“I know.” Nick nodded. “Something you can tell with your mind, but not see or hear or whatever.”

The guys eyed each other, communicating in the silent manner of people who’d known each other well for a long time.

Riley glanced out at the full parking lot, the late sunlight reflecting off the cars that provided cover for anyone who wanted to be unseen. Unease crawled over her again. Nick had just described the prickling when she sensed the suits in Anson’s office, and the buzzing that connected her to Sam, even now.

Sam continued, “Ancient Romans also used it to worship emperors without offending the real gods by calling
them
gods.”

“Human gods,” Nick said.

No one had to say “holy crap.” It hung in the air between them for several seconds.

“This is bigger than leeching,” Sam said.

Nick leaned back, his eyes worried. “It always was, apparently.” He looked at Quinn, who hadn’t said anything. “You ever heard of this?”

She shook her head. “Never. All our lore, our education, says the gods went extinct millennia ago, and no one knows why. I found some odd references in my research to men who seemed to have abilities, but I dismissed it as unrelated. There
are
people who can do extraordinary things without being descended from ancient deities. But now…”

“I can’t believe, all that time, Anson wasn’t working alone.” Sam’s hand closed into a fist on the tabletop. “Those people orchestrated the leeching?” He turned to Riley for confirmation.

“That’s what it sounded like. Part of a bigger plan that went to hell when he was caught and imprisoned.”

“You didn’t recognize the men?” Quinn asked Riley. “Or their names?”

She pressed her lips together. “Not really. I can’t tell you what Anson called them, but they sounded familiar. Like, well-known people. Businessmen, or politicians or something. But I don’t pay a lot of attention to that stuff. I just don’t know.”

“They don’t have to be gods,” Sam said. “They can aspire to it. I mean, when have we ever had any hint that men with inherited power existed?”

“Never,” Nick said. “Doesn’t mean they don’t. Secret societies are all the rage, you know. Look at
The
Da Vinci Code
.”

Sam ignored him. “I think it would be very difficult to hide for so many centuries, especially in modern society.” He stopped talking while the wait staff delivered their food. Steaks still sizzled on cast-iron plates set into wood holders, and blobs of butter melted into baked and mashed potatoes. Riley’s stomach growled, and they put the conversation on hold while they dug in, the others seeming as hungry as she was.

The residual effects of adrenaline finally dissipated, and the food soothed as well as satisfied. Since no one said much while they ate, Riley sat and absorbed Sam’s nearness. His knee and part of his thigh pressed against hers, and he kept glancing her way, his body angled protectively toward her. She had to fight the urge to lean into him the way Quinn leaned into Nick, their contact both casual and possessive. Sam wasn’t yet Riley’s to touch—though her longing for him had only grown since she saw him standing outside waiting for her. She wanted his silky hair in her hands, to taste his mouth again. She wanted the right to want those things.

She also wanted to talk to him alone about her new awareness. That was the one thing she
could
do. But she already had an idea of what it meant, and she couldn’t withhold it from the others, not when there was obviously something so much bigger than her to worry about.

“Whether or not gods exist doesn’t matter,” Quinn said when she was halfway done with her meal. “Not by itself. What matters is why they’re suddenly trying to recruit goddesses.”

“Or not so suddenly,” Nick contradicted. “Anson initiated his plan way back in college, remember? We thought he learned everything he knew from Sam, but according to what he told Riley, we were wrong.”

Sam paled. “You think these Numina guys set him up over a decade ago? The long-term planning for something like that…the foresight and patience…”

It was mind-boggling to Riley, but it sure seemed as if that was what had happened. Which meant their plan was likely even bigger.

“You think Numina is like the Society?” Sam asked Quinn. “Some governing body for these guys who think they’re gods?”

Quinn shrugged.

“I think they actually exist,” Riley said. “Not just want to be.” They all looked at her.

“Why?” Nick demanded, seeming to get she wasn’t simply offering an opinion.

She took a deep breath. “Something happened while I was in there, listening. I don’t know what triggered it. I never noticed it before. Not when I first met—” She cast a quick glance at Sam and regretted it when Nick immediately looked at him, eyes blazing. “I mean, there was something different about the men in that room. The guys in suits created a prickle, like when your fingers go numb, but in my brain. I could sense where they were without looking, almost exactly. And there was a smaller, buzzy sensation I got from Anson. It was different.”