Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) (23 page)

Sam appeared to have recovered. He bounced on the balls of his feet, hands held loosely in front of his face, a small sneer forming as the remaining guys backed off. And then Riley heard a hollow
pop.

Quinn yelled and made a pushing motion with both hands but fell to her knees, obviously tapped out. Riley spun, drew, aimed, but she was again too late. A thud vibrated the floor under her feet. Nick had been felled like a tree by a tranquilizer dart just like the one heading straight for Sam’s neck. She lashed out again, and again, until the candlestick seared her hand and she was forced to drop it.

“No!” she screamed as someone thrust a hood over Quinn’s head and dragged her upright, hauling her toward the open door. She struggled against hands and arms, tried to draw on Sam’s screw-ring, but it wasn’t enough. The more desperate she grew, the less the energy came. And then there was a sting in her arm, her head went fuzzy, and everything faded away.

Chapter Seventeen

One discovery that has stemmed from our new focus on education and understanding is the range of limitation for each goddess. Years of practice and training can make us believe we know our limits, but circumstances can always push our boundaries and give us new knowledge about each other and ourselves.

— Goddess Society for Education and Defense,
“New Focus” Educational Initiative

Riley blinked in a sudden burst of light when the hood was pulled off her face. She barely had time to register a basic beige hallway before they shoved her into darkness and slammed a door behind her. She landed on her hands and knees on a shaggy rug.

“Fuck!”

A feeble glow lit and moved across the space toward her. “Riley?”

“Quinn?” Riley rose to her knees. Quinn huddled on a bed against the wall. She knee-walked across the floor. “Are you all right?”

“Relatively speaking.” The phone dimmed, and Quinn hit a button with her thumb. “Are you?”

“Mostly. Assholes.” Stupid ones. They hadn’t searched her or taken anything away. She dug in her inside jacket pocket for her keychain. It had a small flashlight attached. She twisted it on and waved it around the room.

Colors were hard to distinguish, but the walls were bare, painted drywall. The bed was the only furniture, and the light fixture in the center of the ceiling had no bulbs. No windows in the room, either, not even covered. “This looks like Millinger.”

“We haven’t been gone long enough to be in Georgia,” Quinn said. “I don’t think.”

“I know, but I mean, it’s just as empty and cold.” Riley set the light on the floor and crossed her legs. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“Not at all. I passed out. Were you able to pick up any clues coming in?”

“They drugged me, so I was foggy but conscious. I heard city sounds, but nothing specific.”

“You didn’t overhear conversations or anything?”

“No.” Riley fumed, replaying the whole attack in her head. “Who the hell were those guys?”

“I don’t know.” Quinn cleared her throat and shifted again. “They all seemed young. In their twenties.”

Riley had noticed that, too. “And they weren’t dressed like Anson’s thugs. Their clothes were more expensive. Speaking of Anson.” She thought harder, but couldn’t remember seeing him after he’d been knocked to the ground. Had he just run, or were their attackers working for him? “That had to be the reason he was stalling, right?”

“That’s my guess. Riley…they tranqed the guys, didn’t they? What did you see? Is Nick—” Her voice quavered and stuck, as if she didn’t want to know the answer.

“I think he’s okay. I don’t know if they took them, but I don’t think so. When we got here I heard them carry you out, and then they made me walk. I couldn’t hear anything that sounded like they were hauling a few hundred pounds of muscle. And you know Nick and Sam would have been fighting if they were awake. Or at least cursing.”

“You’re right.” Quinn sighed.

They sat in tension-thick silence for a few minutes. Riley prayed Sam was okay. Maybe Anson wouldn’t have reason to harm them. He’d been genuinely shocked by the idea that he might have hurt her family. He’d let Riley go, back in Atlanta, and he didn’t seem to like getting his hands dirty. He sure as hell hadn’t fought after Sam broke his nose.

But things had escalated with this abduction. He was working with other people now, men whose greed might far outweigh their squeamishness, and he had plenty of reasons to lash out at Sam. Riley stifled a sob. If he was hurt, it was her fault. She should never have let him go with her to Boston. Or never even have gone into his bar in the first place. He’d been her champion from beginning to end. How much was he going to suffer for that, because of her?

But she couldn’t honestly say she wished she had never gone to him for help. He was the most amazing man she’d ever met, and every moment she’d spent with him, even over distance, had made her fall harder. When they’d made love on the balcony, they’d been so close, so entwined in each other, that Riley couldn’t tell them apart. Not only in the romance novel sense but also in a power-centric one. His golden light and whatever made up her own essence had merged into a mentally blinding flash of not just ecstasy, but joy.

She didn’t know if Sam had felt it too. What if she fell in love with him, and all he needed from her was a way to balance himself with the power?

Quinn moaned and bent forward, her arms across her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Riley got up and leaned closer. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Quinn whispered. After a moment she eased back against the wall again. “It’s the power.”

Riley tried not to panic. “What’s it doing?”

“Since I separated the strands, it doesn’t stop moving. It’s like Tanda’s is trying to get back to her—that’s the best way to describe it. Beth’s feels lost and sad, like grief, but it’s fading.”

Riley tried not to think of what the remnants were doing to Sam right now. And that wasn’t even the worst of what Quinn was dealing with. “And Marley’s?”

“Sick,” Quinn groaned before taking a deep breath.

“What’s it going to—”

Quinn cut her off. “I’ll deal with that when the time comes. When it’s all that’s left, I’ll figure out what needs to be done. I just need to get Tanda’s transferred.”

Before she was literally torn to pieces from the inside out.

Riley couldn’t fathom what it would do to Nick if they didn’t get out of here and Quinn died from this. And where would that leave Sam?

They
had
to get out of here.

The first step was to try to let the guys know where they were. Quinn wouldn’t be able to get very far without help, and Riley was afraid she wasn’t enough. “We need to figure out a way to talk to the guys.” She patted the pocket where her phone usually was, but it was flat and empty. Dammit, it must have fallen out somewhere. “Can I see your phone?”

“Of course.” Quinn passed it over, her hand shaking at its slight weight. “We don’t have a signal in here, though. I’ve tried.”

Riley didn’t know if her idea would work. Energy was energy, so she should be able to use what she tapped through metal to feed the phone, and if she did it right, maybe she could even increase its receiving ability.

She needed more metal than the ring on her thumb or the small things in her pocket. She turned and felt the bed, hoping to find some metal pieces, and to her surprise, she found that the whole frame was metal. Like something from a barracks. Were these guys stupid, or just hired guns who knew nothing about the women they’d kidnapped?

She closed her eyes and concentrated, her free hand curled around the metal bed frame. The faint hum in the phone increased after a minute or two, and it grew warm in her hand. She opened her eyes and checked the symbol. Four bars. “Awesome!”

“What?” Quinn asked.

“I boosted the signal.”

“Wow. Nicely done.”

“Thanks.” Riley held out the phone. “Do you want to call Nick?”

Quinn didn’t move. “As much as I want to hear his voice, no. If he hears mine, he’ll know how bad off I am.”

Riley tried speed-dial number one, smiling when Nick’s name flashed on the screen. But the four bars dropped to three, then two before bouncing back to three.
Please let him answer. Please let them be okay.

The first ring cut off halfway through. “Hello,” Nick said warily, as if he didn’t trust the caller.

“Nick! It’s Riley, on Quinn’s phone. We’re okay, but we’re being held somewhere. Get Sam to trace this.” She rushed on when he started to ask a question. “Do it fast! I had to boost the signal magically, and it’s already fading.”

Nick’s orders to Sam were muffled, as if he’d moved the phone away. Sam argued, his voice sounding sweet to her despite the edge of desperation and anger in it. She drew in a relieved breath. He was okay, too.

Their voices cut in and out for a few seconds. “No no no no!” She pulled the phone from her ear and scowled at the single bar that remained. She tried to focus on it again, but it heated so fast against her palm she stopped, afraid it would stop working. “The signal’s fading already. They might not have time.”

“Got it!” shouted Nick, loud and clear before the phone beeped the dropped call.

“Can you boost it again?” Quinn asked, but Riley shook her head.

“I’m afraid the heat will damage the circuits or something. Hopefully they got the location. But unless they had already guessed what direction we were taken, they’ll still be a couple hours away.” She shifted into a more comfortable position and sighed. “You okay?”

Quinn didn’t answer.

…

Red and blue lights fuzzed into a flashing mess in Sam’s vision. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to them. “Cop ahead.”

“I don’t care,” Nick growled back.

“Getting pulled over will slow us down.”

“I won’t get pulled over.”

“You can’t be reckless. They need us.”

Nick ignored him, his glare practically burning a hole through the windshield, his hands uncompromising on the steering wheel, and when Sam checked, the gas pedal was mashed under his foot. But he drove smoothly, his reaction time keeping up with their speed. Sam knew he wouldn’t be reckless, per se, but he wondered what was going on in his friend’s head.

Fucking Anson Tournado. When he got his hands on him again…

None of what he’d fed them had sounded like bullshit. Sam suspected he was running multiple games, playing different groups off each other. He never would have pegged his old roommate as someone happy to work for someone else, but pretending to, if it would further his own goals? Totally.

He wished he’d been able to talk to Riley. Nick said she sounded okay, but he wanted to hear it for himself. He’d pinpointed their location in Boston right before the call dropped, but they got voice mail when they tried to call back. By the time they got up there, who knew what they’d have done to her? The car flew over a bad patch of highway, bouncing and sending Sam into the ceiling despite his seatbelt. “Ow! Come on!” He glared at Nick.

“Sorry.” He motioned to the glove box. “Get the map out, will you? I want the address marked on hard copy. We can’t carry your laptop around while we search.”

“Yeah, okay.” He dug around Nick’s family photos, a pistol, the plastic envelope with the car’s papers, and a dozen maps from all over the country. “You really need to organize this, man.” He found the map of the Northeast and pulled it out, but the print blurred when he opened it. He squinched his eyes shut again and then blinked hard, trying to make out the route.

Nick glanced over and frowned. “You all right? What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know. It’s this…the transfer stuff. Don’t worry about it.” He unfolded and refolded the map with the target area facing up.

“Great,” Nick grumbled. “That means it’s something to worry about. I need you at your best if we’re going to—well, shit. We’re going to Boston. We don’t have to do this alone.”

Sam watched him pull out his phone and hit a number to speed dial. John’s name flashed in the display. “Come on, come on, come on. Pick up. Crap.” He tapped the steering wheel while the voice mail message played over the speaker.

“Hey, John. Nick. Got a situation here.” He gave a rundown and the address Sam had identified. “Those people you don’t want to talk about on the phone have Quinn and Riley. We need your help. Meet us there or call me back.” He flipped the phone closed and stepped on the gas again.

“You think it was a good idea to give him that over a possibly compromised phone?” Sam murmured.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know, man. Anson’s got to know we’d try to come after them. He’ll be ready. Can it make it any worse for them to have heard me say it? Even if they intercept John on his way over, the situation can’t get much worse.”

Sam wasn’t sure he fully agreed with Nick’s logic, but he was sure that Anson either thought he had Quinn and Riley somewhere they couldn’t get to them, or he’d have a trap waiting.

An hour later—four hours after the women were taken, two after Riley’s phone call—they sat in the Charger in a dark parking garage, waiting. Nick had driven around the brick apartment building a couple of times before settling into a spot where two lights were out. John was on his way, but he hadn’t been able to reach any local goddesses capable of fighting, and there were still no protectors close enough to join them.

All Sam’s symptoms had worsened during the drive, too. Nausea, jitteriness, jagged intensity. He wasn’t sure if there was any useable power left in him, or if he’d burned it all off in the fight. He was too much of a mess to tell. None of the ill effects had resurfaced until they drove inland and away from the ocean. The power in him was totally unlike anyone’s understanding of the goddess/energy connection. When he’d pushed the screw in mid-air and then bent it into a ring, he used what was already in him, rather than drawing on the energy of the ocean. The act had normalized him, and he’d felt even better making love with Riley.

Immediately afterward, he’d been completely absorbed by her. But with everything that happened after that, he hadn’t noticed when he started to feel fucked up again. Maybe while Anson talked, but it was hard to tell what was physical and what was emotional.

The apartment building where Quinn and Riley were apparently being held was in Brookline, far enough inland that Sam couldn’t even sense the sea, never mind hope to be calmed by it. The Charles River was a little closer, but he couldn’t sense that, either. Using whatever power remained might make him feel better, but he hated to waste it and was afraid of what would happen when it was gone. He was functional right now—that had to be good enough.

Sam took a deep breath and concentrated on the building specs on his laptop screen. “Okay, looks like six floors, ten apartments on a floor, with four layout variations.” He flipped a page. “Top floor has the luxury units, only four up there.”

“Can you access ownership records?” Nick leaned forward and peered across the parking level. He’d backed into the space so they could keep watch and get away faster when the time came.