Into the Mist (8 page)

Eli reached over to the nightstand and turned on the small GPS unit. In a moment, a small blip lit up the screen.

So, she was still in Paris. A smile crossed his face. Maybe he could arrange to run into her again. After he got more information from Ian.

 

 

 

Damiano stood on the deck, hands braced against the wood railing as he stared over the ocean. A cool evening breeze blowing off the water washed over his face, filled his nostrils with a salty tang.

“You okay, man?”

Damiano turned his head to see Jonah watching him from the open doorway. He eased around and leaned his butt against the wood. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

Jonah ambled out holding two beers. He tossed one of the cans into the air, and Damiano caught it in one hand. Jonah popped the tab on his and came to a stop a few feet away.

Damiano studied him for a moment and opened his own beer. For once he didn't feel edgy and out of control. For a few blissful hours he'd enjoyed a normal existence. He almost felt like his old self. He wanted to be in Paris with Ty and Mad Dog, playing poker and drinking like a fish.

His hand trembled as he held the beer to his lips.

“Today was a good day,” Jonah said.

“Yeah.”

Damiano turned back to the view of the ocean. He set the beer down on the railing. He glanced over at Jonah and voiced what was uppermost on his mind. “She went after him, didn't she?”

Jonah's breath came out in a hiss, but he didn't look at Damiano. “You know me better than that, D. I'm not going to discuss what Ty may or may not have done.”

Damiano ground his teeth together in anger. “Damn it, Jonah. Don't fuck with me. Not over this. She has no business risking herself like that. If you can't control her then by God, I will.”

Jonah turned, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Stand down, D. Last time I checked, I was still responsible for Falcon…for this family.”

“I was responsible for Ty—and myself—way before you were. I won't let her go down for me.”

Jonah's anger eased, and he laid a hand on Damiano's shoulder. “Ty cares about you, D. She'd do anything for you. Put yourself in her shoes. If she needed it, you know you'd put yourself out there, no hesitation.”

Damiano turned with a growl and grabbed Jonah's shirt in his fist. “Tell me you haven't gone along with some crazy scheme of hers. Damn it, Jonah, I'll kill you for this.”

Jonah grasped Damiano's wrist and pulled his hand away from his chest. “You go too far, brother,” he said quietly. “Do not think to question my authority. As long as I'm the head of this family, you won't challenge me.”

Damiano stumbled back and felt the uneasy crawl of change creep over his skin. He closed his eyes and sucked in air as he tried to control the urge to change to something wild and feral. Frightening images flashed in his mind. Wild beasts. Predatory creatures. A low snarl escaped him.

Strong arms surrounded him, hauled him toward the door. “Focus, D. Don't leave me. Hang on. Don't give in.”

A few minutes later, he felt the prick of a needle and warm oblivion seeped into his veins. The fiery itch eased, and the urge to claw at his skin in an effort to free the predator inside abated.

“Listen to me,” Jonah said close to his ear. “You insult me by suggesting I'd ever let Ty place herself in harm's way. She won't be going after Eli Chance. If I have to tie her down and drug her ass, I'll do it. Your only concentration needs to be on defeating this thing that has you in its grip. Do it for yourself and for those of us who love you.”

“I won't…let her sacrifice…herself…for me.”

“Neither will I. Now sleep, D. You need your strength.”

Chapter Six

Tyana scanned the occupants of the outdoor café until her gaze alighted on her target. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips formed a tight line as she strode toward the table on the far end of the patio.

Two bodyguards stood on either side of the man, and Tyana sneered as she approached.

“Not exactly subtle, are you?” she said as she slid into the chair opposite the man who had phoned her.

He flashed her a sleazy grin and raised his hand to snap his fingers. Pete and Repeat slunk away and stood at a distance.

“Take off the sunglasses,” she directed. “I like to see who I'm speaking to.”

He paused for a moment before he slowly raised his hand to remove the expensive shades. Dark, soulless eyes stared back at her, and she resisted the urge to shiver.

“So glad you could make it, Miss Berezovsky.”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” she said sweetly. “We were never introduced.”

“Esteban Morales. You may call me Esteban.”

“I may call you asshole,” she muttered.

He laughed and sat back in his chair. “You're fortunate I have a sense of humor, my dear. Another man might not be so tolerant of your snideness.”

She made a show of checking her watch. “Look, can we get on with this?”

“By all means,” he said smoothly.

She leaned forward. “How the hell do you know anything about Damiano Ruiz?”

His eyes glittered with amusement. “Ah, your shifter friend. Not doing well, is he?”

“How do you know anything about him or how he's doing?”

His teeth flashed again in a smirk. “Because my company engineered the chemical that made him into what he is.”

Tyana exploded across the table, her hands wrapping in the collar of his shirt as she yanked him toward her. “You son of a bitch!”

“Get your hands off me at once,” he said calmly. “Or I'll have my friends give you a few lessons in manners.”

“Fuck you and your friends,” she snarled.

“Remove yourself or I don't give you the information you need.”

She slowly uncurled her fingers from his shirt. Then she shoved him back in his seat before retaking her own.

“Talk and make it fast.”

He chuckled. “Quite demanding aren't you? You see, Miss Berezovsky, I hold all the cards. If I were you, I'd be very nice. And exercise some restraint.”

She sucked in a breath through her nose and blew it out around tightly clenched teeth.

“There, much better. Now, I have something you want, and you have skills that I want to utilize. I see no reason we can't come to an agreement.”

“What do you want?”

“Ian and Braden Thomas. Dead or alive. Preferably dead. They're a liability. Eli Chance, on the other hand, I'd like alive. If he dies, the deal is off.”

She studied the worm closely. He was adamant about Eli Chance. As adamant as she was about Eli. Which left the question why? What did Esteban want with them?

“In return,” he continued, “I'll give you what you want most.”

“And what is that?” she drawled.

“A cure for your brother.”

She sucked in her breath. Was the bastard telling the truth?

“I own the largest pharmaceutical corporation in Europe. In the last few years, I've branched into other interests. I find human experimentation rather fascinating. I wanted strong men. Warriors. The Covert Hostage Recovery team fit the bill. Your brother was just an unfortunate victim. Wrong place, wrong time. I'm willing to rectify that mistake if you give me what I want in return.”

“Why do you want Ian and Braden Thomas dead and Eli Chance alive?” she asked bluntly.

His eyes flickered. “I don't have to explain myself to you, Miss Berezovsky. Either you take the job and help your brother, or he'll be added to my termination list of failed experiments. He'll be hunted down like the others.”

She surged to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “Fuck you. You'll have to come through me, and I swear to God, you come after Damiano and I'll hunt you down, cut off your balls and shove them down your throat. You'll choke to death on your own dick.”

His laughter carried, causing people to stop and turn their way. “Do sit down, Miss Berezovsky. You're causing a scene.”

“I've had enough of this.” She turned to leave, but he stood and reached across the table to snag her wrist. His fingers bit painfully into her skin. She moved to strike, but he thrust a business card at her with his other hand.

“In case you change your mind.”

She snatched the card from him and stalked away, fury igniting her steps. Rage billowed and rolled through her body. Angry tears burned her eyelids as she strode back to her hotel.

She wanted to hit something. Make something bleed. What she really wanted to do was go back and pound fucking Esteban into the pavement. Arrogant, slimy asshole. Who the fuck gave him the right to play God? Because of him, D was fighting a losing battle. How much longer could he possibly hold out until he lost all vestige of humanity?

A woman leaving the hotel bumped into Tyana and proceeded to dress her down in French.

“
Va te faire foutre
,” Tyana muttered. The woman's eyes grew round, and she walked away, grumbling about arrogant Americans.

“
Va t'empaler encule
,” Tyana called after her. “And I'm not American!” She turned and shoved her way by more people exiting the hotel.

She jammed her thumb over the elevator button and twitched with impatience as she waited for it to arrive. Her head pounded like someone had taken a jackhammer to it, and damn she needed a drink.

Bastard.
Fils de pute
.
Fickakopf.

As she entered the elevator and the doors closed behind her, she rammed her fist into the back wall, shaking the car as it rose.

She muttered expletives in six other languages before the doors opened on her floor. Upon arriving at her door, she dug into her pocket for her room key and jammed it into the slot. In her agitation it took three attempts before she could get it open.

Finally the light turned green, and she yanked at the handle. She shouldered her way in and slid her bag from her shoulder, ready to toss it across the room. She came up short when she saw Mad Dog slouched in the chair by the window, his eyes stormy.

“
Fick mich
,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I'd say so,” Mad Dog said in a near growl as he stood. “Where the fuck have you been, Ty? And who the hell was here with you last night?” He waved a hand at the bed that still looked like it had hosted a wrestling match, and in fact, it had. With his other hand, he held up the torn condom wrapper. Oh hell.

Freaking maids would have to pick today to be lax on the job. Any other time, they would have been knocking on her door at an obscenely early hour in their haste to clean the damn room.

She closed her eyes and flopped on the bed, letting her bag fall to the floor. Of the two things she could tell Mad Dog, her meeting with Esteban was not one of them. Which only left telling him about Eli. Not much of an improvement, but he wasn't going to buy that no one had been in her bed and that she'd just happened off on a stroll through the streets of Paris on some sightseeing tour.

“I'm waiting,” he bit out.

“Eli Chance was here,” she said dully.

Mad Dog swore then swore again. Anger vibrated from him, and Tyana glanced worriedly up at him. He gathered his hair into a ponytail in one hand and stood there, gripping the mane at his neck. His features were a study in trying to maintain control. He wanted to rage at her, and what prevented him, she wasn't sure.

Guilt pricked her conscience. She'd never kept things from her team. Until now. They were her family. Her only family.

“How did he find you, Ty?”

His nostrils flared with each breath, and his jaw was set in stone.

Uncertainty gripped her. She wasn't sure how he'd found her. But then how had Esteban?

“Son of a bitch,” Mad Dog muttered. “You're going to get us all killed.”

She stared down at her hands.

“Get into the bathroom and strip,” he ordered. “Go over every inch of your body. He must have planted a tracking device in Singapore. Do it, or I'll do it for you.”

She stumbled to her feet and hurried into the bathroom. Dread pumped through her veins. Her stomach swelled and rocked with nausea. Jonah would kill her. And she'd deserve it. She'd put them all at risk.

She shed her clothes and began at her feet, feeling every inch of her skin. As she moved up her body, she tried to remember the night she'd spent with Eli in Singapore. Heat raced up her spine. He'd not left a single inch of her skin untouched. The damn thing could be anywhere. But where wouldn't she easily find it? Accidentally knock it off?

Standing to her full height, she stared back at herself in the mirror. The most logical place would be on her back or another such place she couldn't easily reach and wouldn't pay much attention to. She sighed. She'd have to get Mad Dog to help.

She grabbed a towel to cover her front then went to the bathroom door and called softly for him. He was there in a second.

“Did you find it?” he demanded.

“Not yet. I need your help. It has to be somewhere on my back. Someplace I wouldn't easily find it or accidentally knock it off.”

“Turn around.”

She complied, holding the towel tightly to her. His hands skimmed over her skin, and then he pushed her further into the bathroom where the light was better.

“Lean against the counter,” he said as he felt along her spine.

She glanced into the mirror and saw him frown.

“Hold your hair up.”

She reached back with one hand and gathered the strands. Mad Dog's fingers slid up her neck into her hairline and felt around. He paused in the slight hollow at the base of her neck. His lips came together, and she felt a slight twinge.

She whirled around to see him holding a tiny needle-like device, much thinner than a toothpick and only about a quarter inch long.

Mad Dog stared grimly back at her as he held the tracking device between his thumb and forefinger. “He must have planted it when you were otherwise occupied.”