Angel's Guardian: A Contemporary Vampire Romance (13 page)

CHAPTER
25

Angel looked around at her home. It was a beautiful house, just perfect for her small family. It was a house where children would be happy. The rooms were spacious and daylight streamed in through the many windows.

The fenced-in yard was perfect. There was a large tree with a swing hanging from it which Nina loved. There was even a lovely dog house in the far corner, ready for the dog that the little girl would eventually get.

Tears came to Angel’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. He had thought of everything, her guardian angel, her vampire lover. The ache in her chest grew into a sharp physical pain that threatened to choke the breath from her.

It had been a week now that they’d picked up their new lives. She was now Lina Pavel Denisov. She felt warmth at the thought that she carried his name. But she had lost him, and now she felt more lost than ever. She sat on the stairs and sobbed inconsolably, her face in her hands. Alarmed, Nina ran to her.

“Mommie, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” The little girl’s face tightened with worry. “Are the bad men coming?”

Angel felt the guilt that a good mother feels when she knows she’s causing distress to her child. “No, baby. No bad men. We are safe. I just wish that Max was here.” She wiped her tears with her hand and tried to smile for her baby.

Nina’s face took on her mother’s sadness. “I wish he was here too. I miss him. I want to go home with Max. Why can’t we go home?”

“Baby, this is home now. It’s a very nice house in a very nice town. Max bought it for us. You’ll begin school soon. You’ll make lots of friends. Aren’t you excited about that?”

Nina thought for a moment before answering. “Yes, but I want Max with us. I’d rather have him than any other friends. Even if he doesn’t grow his hair back, I still want him.”

Angel chuckled at her daughter’s words. “Come, baby. Let’s start putting your things away in your room. The box we shipped from New York  arrived today. We’ll need to open it and put your toys and  movies away. Later, we’ll go for a walk. Maybe the neighbor’s dog Charlie will be out and you can play with him.”

It was a new life, and one she never thought she could have. She owed it to her guardian angel, and she owed it to him to make the best of it. She would not let him down.

******

Jonathan awakened to hurt and then terror. The first sensation that assailed him was extreme pain in his arms as they stretched above him threatening to come out of their sockets. He forced his head up, blinking furiously to clear his vision, to see his hands swollen and purple, bound together with thin nylon rope. The rope was tied to a thick, metal hook in the ceiling.

His body was cold, and yet, there was sweat dripping into his eyes. He tried wiping his eyes on his tortured bare arms, and then looked down to see that he was naked and suspended maybe three feet above the glossed, wood plank floor. There were no windows, only a nightlight providing a small amount of light to the bare, tiny room. The slow, constant swaying sent him on a wave of vertigo and nausea.

A ship, I’m on a ship
, he thought just before losing consciousness once more.

When he surfaced again, a parching thirst assailed him. Strong hands grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head up. At the feel of a water bottle being put to his dry lips, he gulped hungrily, choking and spluttering.

He was no longer suspended. He was still tied, this time with his hands behind him, and he had been laid on a plastic tarp on the bare floor on his side.

Rough hands pulled him up and pushed him into a wooden chair. The texture of the wood against his naked bottom and thighs was grating and alien. Another bottle of water was poured over his head. The light of a bright, incandescent bulb came on, and a man came to stand in front of him. Beside the man and slightly behind, two other men stood.

“Welcome, Mr. Travers. I’m Carlos Eduardo Van Daal Pretto, but I think you already know that.”

Jonathan felt true terror for the first time in his life.

******

Max impatiently peeked over the edge of the drape, willing the sun to drop faster over the horizon. He turned, intending to grab his coat where it lay over the back of the couch, when the intense wave of pain came and crashed over him like an ocean wave over an unsuspecting child playing on the shore. Max went to his knees and experienced the trailing wave of nausea followed by an uncontrollable trembling. He knew at once: Jonathan was alive and being tortured.

The vampire flashed to the small bathroom behind the stairs and splashed cold water on his face. Holding to the sink as if it was a lifeline, he willed his heartbeat to slow down, and blanked his mind as if he were meditating. In the dark behind his eyes, he pictured Jonathan’s face and reached out with his awareness to find him in his mind-scape.

******

Max, Max! Help me. Save me!
Jonathan fought the waves of hot pain and terror to concentrate on his plea to his friend and protector. He knew Max would be looking for him, that he would find him. That was the purpose of the blood bond they’d forged years ago. Now that he was conscious, the vampire would be able to zoom in on his location, a living, breathing GPS. The only obstacle would be distance. Jonathan prayed that he was not thousands of miles away.

Another wave of intense, mind-blasting pain shook his body, and Jonathan screamed and fought to maintain his awareness. He needed to stay awake to give Max any help he could. 

Jonathan!
the voice sounded clear in his mind.
Where are you? What is happening to you?
But the enemy’s grating voice, insistent and impatient, cut through the voice in his head, confusing Jonathan.

“Who hired you to investigate me? Who hired your firm to do the work?”

Jonathan gasped and tried to fill his lungs with air to puff through the pain as birthing women are taught to do.

Tell him.
Max, connected to him, could hear everything.

He’ll want more. He’ll want everything. Once he has it, he’ll kill me anyway.

Give him a few things. Delay him. I will be there soon. You just need to hang on for a few hours.
Max sounded so confident. It gave Jonathan strength.

Jonathan forced his eyes open. He watched as one of the brothers, the one called Felix, heated the sharp blade over a flame until the metal almost glowed. Then casually, as if it was something he did every day, he approached the once again suspended man and slowly pushed the glowing blade into the fleshy part of his thigh.

Jonathan’s high-pitched scream drowned out the sizzle as the hot metal slid through the flesh like a knife through butter. The blade seared and sealed the wound, keeping it from bleeding, but the burning pain became unbearable after the blade was removed. Jonathan threw up, spluttering and coughing as he struggled not to choke on his own vomit.

Fresh water was poured over him. The plastic tarp now covered in urine, vomit, and water, was removed, and a fresh one laid down. He watched through the roaring that the pain caused in his mind as Felix reheated the blade. The cuts had been moving higher and higher, the implication clear.

“Mr. Travers, soon the blade will get very close to your very delicate areas. Not only will the pain become unbearable, but permanent damage to those dear appendages will be done. Save yourself and tell me what I want to know.” 

“Maxim... Pavel... Denisov,” Jonathan could barely think of the entire name in his fear and pain. He was having trouble pulling air into his lungs, the pressure that the weight of his body was exerting making it a great effort.

“What did you say?” asked Pretto, lifting a hand to stop Felix.

“The man... who hired me. His name is... Maxim... Pavel... Denisov.”

“A Russian name?” Pretto considered this for a moment in obvious surprise before addressing a quiet but observant Claus. “Go, do a search. See what you can find on this Maxim Pavel Denisov.”

“Maxim... is... strong,” Jonathan struggled to breathe and speak. “I... am... not. My body... will not... bear this. My heart... may give up... at any moment. What use... will I be ...to you...then?”

“I’m well aware of the situation, Mr. Travers. You’re a soft, cosseted, pretty boy groomed to the corporate law offices. Still, Felix is quite experienced at this. My aim is to extract what I need and no more. Just a few more questions, and you may rest. We’ll resume our chit-chat tomorrow. Now, why is this man, Denisov, interested in me?”

“If... I... answer, will you... give me... a few... hours’ rest?”

“I told you already, Mr. Travers. I do not want you dead. You will have a full night’s rest and warm food to regain your strength. I want answers.”

“He wants...to protect... the girl. He... just... wants to... keep her... safe.”

“Ah, very good. You see, Mr. Travers, how well this works. You give me something I want, and I give you something you want. This could turn into a real symbiotic relationship. You will get your needed rest now. However, tomorrow, we must have another little chat.”

Pretto signaled Felix who moved to lower their prisoner.

He knows who you are
, Jonathan whispered in his mind.
By tomorrow, they will know everything about you, Max
.

That gives me tonight to do what I have to do
, answered his friend.

CHAPTER
26

The girl was a new recruit, and Pretto always tested the new merchandise. Pretto held one arm tightly around the terrified teenage girl on his lap while his other hand delved under her shorts. He was talking to Felix, who watched the girl’s face closely for a reaction while he nursed his glass of scotch.

“To keep her safe. To protect her. This Russian has killed  five of my men to keep a simple whore and her two brats safe. Why? What does he have to gain? Is he part of a new Russian organization trying to muscle into my part of the trade? Was it coincidence that brought them together?”

The girl whimpered as the questing finger entered her. Felix watched, leered, and squirmed in his seat. “We’ll find out soon enough,” he assured his boss. “Claus will ferret it out in his usual way. He’s a genius when it comes to that.”

“Yes, you’re right. Now, let’s see what we can teach this lovely girl. I do believe she’s eager to learn.”

******

Max was furious, feeling helpless and frustrated. In his anger and desperate need to rescue his friend, he had forged a quick, simple plan and gone full speed ahead with its implementation.

An hour after midnight, he’d left the small fishing boat anchored in the dark, cold water and spider climbed his way aboard the large, luxury yacht anchored two miles south of the Hudson River.

He moved with stealth and supernatural quiet, scanning with his excellent night vision. There was no one visible on the first deck, the night being cold. He knew that Jonathan was being held somewhere below. He found his way to the stairs going to the lower level, and he came up against the invisible barrier that no vampire could cross: the threshold.

Max was first confused, then devastated. How did he not figure it out? The yacht was a home to Pretto, as inviolable as any of his other homes would be. Jonathan was helpless. Unless he was invited, he could not enter.

A few hours later, Max arrived at Jonathan’s penthouse. 

“I need help, Armand. I know where Jonathan is being held, but I need help to get to him.” Armand was Jonathan’s personal assistant, a fancy title for a trusted servant.  

“Of course, Sir. Anything I can do. We have access to some pretty specialized contract help. What do we need?”

“We need to be able to get inside a yacht sitting two miles off shore without anyone inside  spotting us. I need a couple of talented men who can get inside the yacht and let me in. I don’t know how many men are in the yacht; I know of three at least, but there must be more.”

Joseph took out his cell and began to scroll through it. “Mr. Travers has a trusted man who can handle this. He can get you anything you need. He spent twenty years in special forces and handles special projects for the firm. His name is Devian Harris.”

“How soon can you have him here?”

“Half an hour. He happens to be waiting for my call.”

“Call him.”

As much as Max hated to ask for help, he knew he had no choice. While his vampire nature him gave immense powers, it also saddled him with immense vulnerabilities. Now, he had another problem. The rescue would not take place tonight.

Jonathan would have to bear another day of torture, and use his wits to survive. He’d promised Jonathan that he’d get him out tonight, and he’d failed. What if his friend did not survive? How much information could he dole out without putting Angel and the children in danger?

Once the sun came up, Max would be trapped inside. Still, he would get a little sleep and use the time to place a fail-safe-plan in action. He would need to stay in Jonathan’s mind to help and guide him.

If things got shaky, he’d have to contact Angel and get her to run immediately. God, he hoped that did not happen. She was on her own now,  trusting that she was finally safe, getting her domestic affairs in order, settling the children.

He hated to destroy her peace of mind and send her once again into the cold. He wanted her to believe him her savior, to trust in his power to keep her safe. He wanted nothing in her past to touch her again.

Yet, his failure to destroy her enemy tonight, might just put her in Pretto’s sight again. He must get Jonathan to keep Pretto focused on Max and not on Angel. One more day, that’s all he needed. It all depended on Jonathan now.

******

Devian Harris was not a handsome man. His face was pitted with deep, dark acne scars left over from his youth. His very dark, small, black eyes were set deep under dark, bushy brows. His nose, squat and wide, looked like it had been broken a few times. He sported about a week’s growth of facial hair, but his head was clean shaven.

His body was something else. Hard muscle rippled when he moved. There was not an ounce of fat on the man who had obviously been a career soldier. His black cargo pants accentuated the slim waist and muscular thighs. The black, skin-tight commando t-shirt looked ready to burst at the shoulder and chest. It hugged the torso closely over the very defined six-pack. It seemed that fortune, in its usual fickle play of irony, had given him a perfect body to make up for an imperfect face.

The man did have presence, Max had to admit. He might be butt-ugly, but he had a beguiling personality. The eye could not help but follow him as he moved and talked. Interestingly, his speech was precise and formal, that of a man who was educated and proud of it.

“We must plan for the worst. We know the type of vessel and the minimum number of crewmen it needs is eight to ten. It is safe to assume that Pretto, his two lieutenants and his manservant are not part of the crew. He must also have a security team. It would be logical to expect at least twelve, possibly sixteen people presently on the yacht.”

“That’s a sizable number,” remarked Armand.

“It is, but it is a good estimate that half of those will be little threat and easily incapacitated. You have the cook, cleaning staff, mechanical staff, the servant. Those trained to security and body guarding are a different story.”

“I can handle anything that comes at me once I’m in,” said Max. “I just need you to get me in.”

“I’m somewhat confused, Mr. Denisov. You need me to get you in? That’s the simplest task of all. Why do you need me at all?”

Max squirmed in his seat, his eyes flickering to Armand. How do you explain to a man that you can’t cross a home’s threshold because you’re a vampire?

“What I mean is that once I’m in the vessel, I intend to make my way as fast as I can to where Jonathan is being held in a lower, aft cabin. I aim to get to him before they’re aware that the yacht has been compromised. I will need you to clear every other deck and make sure no one disturbs my operation. I intend to deal with Mr. Pretto and his two lieutenants decisively and privately. They’re mine.”

Devian Harris nodded. “That, I can understand, Mr. Denisov. It is personal for you. This man has threatened the security of those you hold dear.”

“As soon as you have Jonathan, I will take him from you and leave you to deal out the punishment,” said Armand.

“What? No, absolutely no way is a civilian, and one not in his prime, going on this operation. I draw the line at that,” exclaimed Harris.

Max hated that he needed Armand there. Only Armand knew that Max must be verbally invited to enter. The words “You may enter or please, come in,” must actually be said directly to the vampire. How could he explain to Harris that he could not cross from the deck to the stairs without being invited without telling him why?

“Jonathan is in a terrible condition. He will be naked, vulnerable, in need of reassurance, first aid, and the support of someone he trusts. He will need someone to help him walk. Surely, you will not waste a fighting man doing that.”

Harris saw the logic of Max’s argument. They were breaching the vessel with a team of six, and that included him. Of course, they were men he trusted with his life, highly trained and loyal to him, but they could be up against three times that number.

“He’ll be with you, then. It will be your job to keep him alive.”

“I will clear the bottom deck, retrieve Jonathan, and keep both him and Armand safe. You and your men have the other three decks.”

“You know that the body count may end up quite high. These men are the worst of the worst. They will be armed to the teeth with state of the art weaponry. A luxury vessel worth millions of dollars must be defended from pirate attacks, drug runners, and in this case, competitors. They may even be expecting us.” Harris was a cautious man.

“No, he’s not expecting us.  Pretto has no idea that we are coming. He’s quite confident that he’s the one with the edge. He would never have come so close to shore had he thought there was danger,” answered Max.

“How do you know that? How did you get the intelligence? I’m trusting you because I have no other choice. Jonathan is being held, and I owe my allegiance to him as my friend and employer. How do we know he’s on that vessel? How do we know he’s still alive? How do we know that this isn’t a trap?”

“I can’t tell you how,” Max raised his voice in exasperation. “The information comes from  highly placed sources, from people spying on him electronically and domestically. People whose lives would not be worth two pennies if they were suspected.” Max watched Armand’s eyes flash with suppressed laughter at the blatant lies that so easily flowed from Max’s lips.

“All right,” accepted Harris unwillingly. “Not my usual modus operandi, but I will accept the situation for Jonathan’s sake.”