Relentless Flame (Hell to Pay) (27 page)

He slid Hannah’s limp body over the metal pallet, hating her little squeak as she bumped on the shelf. In one motion, he ripped through the bonds holding her arms, hauled her to his chest, and tugged off the knit cap. He kissed her sweaty lips so desperately that their teeth scraped.

Helvete
, he’d never wanted someone in his arms more than Hannah right this minute. Cradling her thin frame, he sprinted down the row.

A figure appeared out of the darkness.

Lurid, red light flared from the palm of a spidery hand.

“Going somewhere?”

The thin voice of evil cut through the darkness like a lazily drawn blade. Not good. Dante lowered Hannah to her feet and tucked her into his side, holding on to her as she wobbled. How could Dante keep her safe when
he
had shown up?

“My lord Jerahmeel.” Dante dipped his head in expected deference, trying to hide his panic. Surely the Lord Most Vile could hear the drumroll of Dante’s heart right now. “Uh, we were just leaving.”

“Of course you weren’t,” purred Jerahmeel.

In the dim shadows, the evil man flicked his nonilluminated hand, indicating the end of the warehouse, toward the dock area.

Deep, sickening dread dropped like lead into his gut, and Dante supported Hannah as they walked down the aisle. Her shaky legs gave out from under her after only a few steps.

Dante glared at the seething, sulfurous figure behind him and swept her into his arms. Damn it, she was beyond vulnerable. Watching her squint into the dark surroundings, Dante groaned. She couldn’t see her way out of this warehouse, much less stand a snowball’s chance against Jerahmeel and Brandon.

He considered his options to get her out of here. Nothing came to mind. This situation had no good ending.

Brandon met them at the end of the aisle. The blow the minion landed on Dante’s jaw rocked him back so violently, he nearly dropped Hannah. Dante spit out blood.

“You can’t take my bait.” Brandon snickered. “Well, actually you did!”

“Shut up, minion,” Jerahmeel growled.

They rounded the end of the aisle and stopped between the two racks. Dante stood still, trying not to see Hannah’s unspoken question as she peered up at him. He had no answers, only horrible options.

Jerahmeel and Brandon flanked them.

Waiting. Circling.

Jerahmeel brushed a piece of lint from his tailored silk shirt; a tiny finger of smoke rose from the fabric.

Kristus
.

“You’ll want to set your human down for our little demonstration,” Jerahmeel said. He maintained only the thinnest veneer of decorum now.

How would Dante get her out of here?

Helvete
. He wouldn’t.

Neither he nor Hannah would leave here alive. Or worse yet, they might leave here alive. Only it wouldn’t be on anyone’s terms but Jerahmeel’s.

Dante lowered her to stand again, but her knees buckled. His rage flared as lines of blood seeped through her clothes. She hung on to Dante’s arm but remained stooped over. Bruises purpled her delicate skin. She squinted up at him. Damn. She still believed he’d get her out of here. Unfortunately, he had nothing to offer but disappointment and pain.

The only sound in the cool warehouse was the minion snickering softly to himself. His red hair glowed eerily in the yellow rays of the flashlight.

“She’s an innocent, Jerahmeel. Let her go,” Dante said.

“This human is anything but innocent, my dear Dante, as you well know. Besides, she’s interesting. I want her.”

Dante’s hand curled into a hard fist.

“Ah, ah, ah. You can’t touch me.” Jerahmeel’s voice oozed like slime over Dante’s ears.

“And you can’t touch her.” Dante prayed for leverage.

A dark frown creased Jerahmeel’s normally unlined countenance, and he seethed, the smell of burnt eggs emanating from his fastidiously groomed appearance.

“But I sure can.” Brandon ogled Hannah.

“And I can compel her to do my bidding any way I see fit as long as I don’t touch her,” Jerahmeel rumbled. “I find this human’s ... abilities fascinating and would like to learn more. Just like Peter’s woman—her delicious blood was refreshing, unusual. Reminded me of someone else.” He stared into space for a minute until he blinked his coal-black eyes and focused on Hannah. “Perhaps a bit of experimentation is in order.”

“No,” Dante growled.

Hannah held her ground, keeping close by his side, but she swayed where she stood. Stark fear suffused her features.

“Let’s get started,” Jerahmeel said.

Brandon smirked, his thin lips disappearing.

Herre Gud
, this would be bad.

Hannah straightened up and squared her shoulders. Unfortunately, even at full height, her tiny frame intimidated no one in this room. Dante’s heart swelled with pride at the effort.

“What exactly are you going to do?” She squinted in the general direction of Jerahmeel.

The Lord of Evil’s black, groomed eyebrows rose as he sketched a slight bow.

“Why, we’re going to find out what skills you have, my dear. We’ll determine exactly what your limits are and how your talents can benefit me. And, as added incentive, if you cooperate, I might not destroy your lover.”

“What?” Paling, she looked up at Dante. “What?”

“Don’t listen to him. Listen to me. Just try to survive. Please.”

“Dante?” Tears welled in her soft, brown eyes—eyes he might not see again after tonight.

“Let’s begin.” Jerahmeel motioned to Brandon.

Dante tensed as he stepped in front of Hannah. If they were going to do her harm, they’d have to come through him first.

Brandon struck without warning.

Dante, intent on protecting Hannah from the minion, didn’t react fast enough when the ginger asshole’s fist shattered his cheekbone. Stars burst in his field of vision, but he had no time to regroup as Brandon pounded him in quick succession, splintering his ribs, rupturing God-knew-what else.

Finally recovering enough to respond, Dante fought back with bone-crushing blows, driving the minion back. One satisfying crunch of bone told him he’d destroyed the minion’s weasely nose.
Utmarkt
. Excellent.

Hannah’s terrified cry drew his attention. Jerahmeel had backed her up to the shelves, effectively trapping her. He didn’t touch her. He couldn’t. But she didn’t know that. At least Jerahmeel stuck with the rules.

Brandon’s violent punch blindsided Dante enough to drive him to the floor. Then there was silence. Why didn’t the minion finish it?

The swish caught his attention a split second before the whip dragged fingers of jagged metal through the skin of his back.
Jåvla skit
.

The minion grinned, brandishing the nasty weapon. Another strike and Dante’s arm opened up, bleeding in eight fiery tracks.

“Dante!” Hannah cried out.

Jerahmeel stepped aside with a magnanimous smile and a negligent wave of his arm.

“No, Hannah, stay back!” Dante yelled.

She ran to him right when Brandon struck again. The metal-tipped weapon shredded the skin of her upper chest. The horrible cry wrenched from her lips flayed Dante’s heart, and he caught her as she collapsed.

“Oh my, unanticipated collateral damage,” Jerahmeel said sarcastically. “Too bad. But, since you’re there, my dear, would you please heal Dante’s wounds, too?”

“No!” Dante wheezed, pressing his hand against the knitting bones of his chest. With a sick pop, his cheekbone repaired itself. “She just healed her brother. You’ll kill her.”

“I think not. Besides, I want to discover her limits. Know what she can do for me.”

Jerahmeel licked his blood-red lips and steepled long, manicured fingers in a contemplative gesture. Dante didn’t buy the relaxed pose for a minute.

The top of Hannah’s T-shirt hung in bloody tatters.

Dante needed to kill someone. Now. Screaming fury filled his head as the knife vibrated against his leg, making its desires known.

Fists ready, he rose and spun around.

“Ah, ah, ah, Dante. Let her try to heal you, or we’ll flay her alive while you watch.” Jerahmeel’s avid grin never reached his eyes.

Brandon tapped the whip handle on his leg. Dante took grim satisfaction that the minion’s grin was missing a few teeth.

But not satisfying enough. Problem not solved.

Dante knelt back down over Hannah’s shaking body. He tried to move her but was unable to touch any part of her without causing pain.

She reached bloody hands up to him.

“Don’t. Don’t do this. Please,” he said.

Hannah suffered because of him. And this? This hell was what he had to offer a woman?

“If you’re okay, then it’s worth it,” she said.

Shame burned his face. He deserved none of her willingness to help him. Zero.

Kristus
.

“No. Healing me will destroy you,
ålskling
. It’s not worth it.”

“If I don’t try, then they’ll destroy you. This may be your only chance to get out of here,” she whispered.

Her skin glistened with blood. Tears rolled over freshly bruised and swollen skin, the injuries she’d taken from her brother. How much could one human absorb and survive? Apparently, Jerahmeel wanted to find out.

Hugging him close, she put her mouth to his ear. Even in this hellish situation, her warm, low voice sent a frisson of desire into his groin. Always thinking with his cock; how sick could a man get? He focused on the words she whispered.

“Act like the healing doesn’t work. Might buy you time.”

He stiffened and she shushed him.

“It’s your last chance,” she breathed.

With her fine hands pressing his jaw, she transferred quickly, sucking his pain away like a candle that had been snuffed out. She made a show of trying to heal him for another minute, finally collapsing on the ground, acting defeated.

“I can’t make it work, there’s nothing there.”

She curled in a ball, hiding her extra-battered face and broken torso, full of Dante’s injuries.

To do his part, Dante wearily moaned and continued to act wounded. Truth be told, his condition couldn’t be better. He felt like he could go another ten rounds. Ready to launch into action, his muscles quivered in adrenaline-fueled anticipation. Hopefully, with the blood staining everything, Jerahmeel wouldn’t notice that Dante had been completely healed.

She had given him one chance to save her.

One chance to save them both.

“It’s too much,” she said to Jerahmeel, holding her head in her hands. Somehow she got back to her feet and stood up straight with what had to be an immense force of will. “I’m so sorry, Dante; I can’t heal you,” she said.

At a nod from his boss, Brandon snickered and approached Hannah.

“Then Dante won’t be able to stop me from doing my job.” He waited in front of her, tapping the wicked crop on his leg. “Your turn.”

She flinched away, but the metal-tipped whip still caught her arm. Screaming, she tried to protect herself.

Jerahmeel’s eyes glowed like embers. “She’ll learn the price of disobedience. If I’m going to keep her, there can be no dissent.” He gestured to Brandon, who brandished the weapon again, stepping closer to Hannah huddled next to the rack.

“Finish it,” Jerahmeel said, throwing his arms up in the air. “She’s useless, too weak. This human can’t help us. I’d hoped for much more.” He rolled a glossy curl between two thin fingers and inspected his nails.

Dante consolidated his rage into one colossal burst of fury. He slammed into Brandon, sending him crashing against the metal shelves.

Hannah’s bruised body distracted him again. When Dante turned to check on her, Brandon hit him at a dead run. Dante hurtled backward in the air twenty feet down the aisle and dented the sliding freight door at the end of the building. His vision dimmed.

Fight, damn it. Stay conscious. For Hannah.

Off to the left, he spied a movement.
Vad i helvete?
He squinted into the shadows. A khaki-clad form emerged, severe bun and all. Nurse Ratched. And ... Barnaby?

A slight smile lifted the corners of Ruth’s lips, and she nodded at Dante.

He might just pull this off.

Shaking his head to clear it, he peeled himself off the metal freight door. His world was still off balance, but it would have to be enough. At least he had reinforcements. Or witnesses.

Down the aisle, lit by the eerie yellow flashlight glow, Jerahmeel stepped aside to avoid the pool of Hannah’s rapidly spreading blood. Murmuring to Brandon, Jerahmeel tugged at his oiled curls thoughtfully with a bored, bemused expression.

Brandon had thrown down the crop and now gripped Hannah by the neck, pushing her into the metal shelves. She didn’t make a sound as she stared at Brandon.

Jerahmeel chuckled. “A little deception from this human? Mumming as though you couldn’t do the job, my dear? No matter. Paltry as your powers are, no one else will have use of them. And she only serves as a distraction to you, sir.” He tipped his pointed chin at Brandon. “Minion, destroy the human.”

Dante’s world narrowed to the horrific scene before him. The minion dropped Hannah to her feet, pinning her upright by the neck as she sagged.

Dante flew off the sliding door at a blazing sprint.

Brandon drew back his hand and aimed it at Hannah.

She glanced toward Dante, a sad, sweet smile on her battered lips.

Brandon sneered at Dante. And then he drove his fist into Hannah’s chest, collapsing bones and ligaments.

She crumpled to the floor, her head cracking against the concrete.

Dante smashed into Brandon with every ounce of strength in his body and his soul. Knocking Brandon into a shelf, he indented the minion’s skull, but even semiconscious, Brandon still fought.

With an iron-fisted blow, Dante stunned the minion. Pulling Brandon’s head around 180 degrees with a grinding crunch, Dante slammed the minion’s neck against his bent knee.

He dropped Brandon, now truly dead, to the floor with a satisfying thump.

Ruth skidded to a halt next to him.

“Need help?” Not a hair was out of place. She wore an impassive expression across her smooth, sculpted features. Even her functional khakis were pristine and wrinkle free. Nurse Ratched indeed.