Die for Me (6 page)

She’d landed safe and sound from the third floor of the county jail, no thanks to Harrington, but the bodies surrounding her made it hard to relax. They didn’t move, weren’t dangerous, but her gut told her she’d been wrong to stay here. She should have gotten out of LA hours ago, but the fact remained someone had come for her back at the jail. Despite her original plan to use Harrington for her own purposes, she obviously needed him. She studied each and every one of the homeless, trying to figure out what had changed. Old men huddled beneath torn jackets, women and children slept near barrel fires they’d made and mangy dogs sulked around in hopes of not being eaten. All appeared normal.

She huddled deeper into the jacket she’d found, effectively covering her face. The cement column at her back protected her from behind, but she found herself automatically searching for the knife she kept. It wasn’t there. The police had taken it. Torrhent strained to listen for a threat, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Staying in one place had been a bad idea.

Scouring the ground, she found the piece of glass that had nicked her when she’d sat down. A new kind of scent, unlike the smoke from the fire or the putrid smell of the homeless, assaulted her nose. Cologne. Expensive. Nobody down here would have the money or need to fulfill such whimsical desires. Somebody down here didn’t belong.

Slowly leveraging her weight against the column, Torrhent stood, leaving the jacket and moldy blankets behind. It was dark under the overpass, but she could use it to her advantage.

She had no reason to believe they’d found her already, but she refused to take any chances. Sliding between a Dumpster and the chain-link fence, she waited. With her fellow residents fast asleep, only the pops and crackles of the barrel fires filled the silence. Her instincts were right. Less than two minutes after relocating, Torrhent saw him.

Muscular with short, buzzed hair, he uncovered piles of rags as he moved closer to her position. Neither ruffling clothing nor careful footsteps reached her ears. Whoever intended to find her had skill. A professional.

Keeping her gaze on the figure, she moved when he moved, backing herself around another column as he came upon her bed for the night. She watched as he riffled through the blanket. She took another step forward.

Suddenly freezing in place, the man radiated hostility.

Shit
.

He’d noticed her.

Torrhent stretched up, pressing the sharp side of the glass against his throat as he straightened. He tensed under her touch and she had him right where she wanted him. “What do you want?”

“I expected you’d be out of the city by now, Torrhent,” Harrington said, his hands rising in surrender.

Torrhent nudged him face-first into the cement column with a free hand. “Hug the column.” He did. “How’d you find me?” she asked.

“It’s not hard when you know what to look for. People start noticing suspicious behavior when you make it look like you’re trying to hide from someone. We’ll work on that.”

“Spread your feet and don’t move.” She kept the glass close to his throat, biting back her scream as the edges cut through her calloused skin. As best as she could manage, she patted the length of his shirt and pants for weapons, then straightened. He was clean.

Harrington turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I’ll have to teach you how to frisk someone properly, too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

An elbow hit her face, knocking Torrhent on her back. When she opened her eyes, Harrington knelt over her. The campfire reflected its light through the piece of colored glass in his hand as he studied her. “Looks like you’ll need some training if we’re going to work together.”

His voice sounded distant as blood trickled from her nose in a sloppy wet line to her mouth. She turned, spitting it out, but even the sight of her own blood made her sick. Her vision blurred, the weight of her nausea pulling her down. She fought to speak, her head spinning more out of control. “Work . . . together?”

Massive fingers clenched into her flannel shirt, pulling her upright. It was too much to handle. Her knees buckled, the sight of blood on her hands disappearing as she fell into darkness.

* * *

“You kidnapped me!” Bottomless gray eyes burned straight into his soul.

The brutal intensity took Taigen by surprise. “Try to see it as more of a business arrangement than a kidnapping. You need my help and I need yours.”

Taigen relaxed back into the recliner, imagining he could hear her heartbeat race across the room. From the look on her face, Torrhent Lynd wasn’t about to give anything up without cause. “Agree to help me and I won’t beat the information out of you.”

The visual he got from the statement made his chest ache. She didn’t deserve an interrogation, but time had worn thin already. “Consider this a friendly gesture.”

“I don’t need any more friends,” she said, tilting her head up as he stood. Strong muscles bunched in her biceps and forearms, as if she’d tensed for battle. Her attention darted to the numerous exits in the apartment.

She was planning her escape.

He admired that. “If you think you can fight Rutler yourself, you’re living in a fairy tale.” Taigen stared down at her. “It’s like you don’t even know him.”

She met his gaze, her neck craned upward to keep him in her sights.

The realization hit hard.

“You really don’t know, do you?” He shook his head. Running his hands over his short hair, he tried to plan the next move. “We can’t stay here. If Rutler’s as connected as I think he is, then he already knows where you are and who you’re with. He’ll send someone here soon.” He turned his back on her, making a mental list of supplies. “We need to go off the grid.”

“My head is spinning.” Her soft voice slithered across his skin like a lover’s touch. “Do you have anything to eat?”

“Help yourself.” He gestured toward the small kitchen. “But make it fast.”

Torrhent kept her distance as she passed him, her eyes flickering toward the bandage on his left arm. “What is that from? You didn’t have it earlier.”

“Bullet. Won’t be a problem if that’s what you’re worried about.” The truth was, the bullet in his chest hurt far greater than the fresh hole in his arm, and Torrhent seemed to be the cause. She quickened his heartbeat with just a glance, made him inhale sharply when her scent hit his nostrils. Not entirely unpleasant either. Despite their differences, Taigen imagined he could get used to the type of excitement she elicited from him. Or was it just because she could lead him to his sister?

He strode into the bedroom to pack, burying the ideas popping into his head. They needed supplies for an extended trip. He didn’t know how long it would take to find Adelaide or how heavily trained the men were who had her. They might even know he was coming for them.

But none of it mattered.

She’d kill them all herself if he didn’t get to her first.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey—”

Taigen’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he pushed the intruder up against the wall automatically. His training took over and he destabilized the threat with a quick sweep of their legs. Slamming against the floor, his victim exhaled in a rush, warm, sweet breath filling his lungs. A knife found home in his left hand and he pressed it against her throat. He hadn’t noticed she’d followed him in, too consumed with his bloodlust.

Torrhent’s eyes widened, fear shimmering in those gray depths.

After a few breaths, his thoughts cleared. It took him a second to realize he’d wrapped his fingers around her throat, and he pulled back quickly. Disgust slithered beneath his skin as he turned his back on her. He dropped the knife on the bed. Even after two years, his mind had kicked into old habits. He turned his attention back to the duffle bag on the bed. What the hell had he been thinking? “What do you need?”

“Wo-would it be okay if I shower?” She sidled into his peripheral vision.

Her movements suggested she rubbed at her throat and another pang of regret fluttered in his chest. Taigen only nodded in response. He didn’t trust his voice enough to answer, anxiety clawing its way up his throat. This girl held information he needed, but years of experience told him she wouldn’t give it up willingly. He had to be patient. Hell, he’d wine and dine her if it got her talking. From what he could surmise, however, she only needed a chance to feel human. She’d only demanded a shower thus far.

Disappearing into the bathroom, she closed the door behind her.

The sound of water hitting the bathtub filled his ears and the bathroom door lock clicked into place. A locked door wouldn’t keep him out, but Taigen needed her trust. He’d let her shower and get herself together. He’d let her eat. A woman her age appreciated things like that.

And afterward, he would get his answers.

Chapter 5

Isaac Rutler surrounded himself with the best money could buy. Paintings, cars, clothes. Assassins.

Three of them to be exact, but he only had eyes for one.

“Am I boring you, Ms. Banvard?” He paused his slide show and waited for an answer he’d never get. Adelaide Banvard remained mute, but Isaac considered it one of her best assets.

She ignored him, trailing her fingers across the cherrywood conference table slowly, as if she hadn’t even heard him. Her expression gave him nothing.

He was familiar with the frustration it brought on. Men who wore expressions like Adelaide’s were the ones who had taken his wife from him. Isaac gripped the remote in his hand, nearly crushing the plastic. Grief threatened to overtake him.

“You’re Adelaide Banvard?” a whisper interrupted.

Isaac regained his senses, pushing the memory of Charlie’s funeral underneath an empty expression of his own.
You’re nothing like them,
he told himself.
You’re smarter
.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” The flamboyant gun-for-hire from the South leaned closer to Adelaide, his bright green and orange hair standing out. “I’ve always dreamed of meeting you.”

Adelaide didn’t respond.

The meeting had gotten off topic.

“If you’ve heard so much about her, Mr. Veras, don’t get so close.” Isaac’s eyes darted to the woman who could snap at any second. A monster lurked underneath her scarred exterior, one who’d filleted a man with a blade, and Isaac would use her for everything she was worth.

Adelaide’s gaze hadn’t deviated from the conference table.

“I’m offering fifty thousand to whoever can bring Torrhent Lynd to me alive. Kill her, and you get nothing,” Isaac finished. The projector wheezed silent after a few seconds. He stood motionless, hating that the people he despised the most were the only ones who could bring this all to an end.

Though weapons had been confiscated at the door, the look Adelaide gave the others told Isaac she didn’t need a weapon for what she wanted to do.

A smiled played at the corners of her mouth. “Ms. Banvard,” Isaac scolded.

Her eyes lingered on the orange and green dye job before turning to Isaac slowly.

“Miles is not something to eat.” He couldn’t afford to lose another round in the game he played. He needed all the pawns he could get. “Are there any questions?”

“We just sat through an hour-long presentation about a girl who is being hunted by the FBI as much as we are, and you want us to bring her back
alive
?” another asked. “It’d be safer to just kill the bitch.”

Isaac leveraged his weight against the conference table, knuckles down. “If you kill her, you don’t get paid. Is that clear?”

Both men nodded at him as Adelaide merely traced a pattern into the table.

“Good. Now get out of my house.” He turned, addressing Nicholas as the killers filed out the door for their bounty. “Where are the photos?”

His personal bodyguard handed him a manila folder.

Isaac shuffled through the colored photos. A man he’d never seen before traveled beside his stepdaughter. “Is this him?”

“He’s been going by the name John Harrington for the last two years.”

His eyes darted toward the petite murderer across the conference room. Adelaide couldn’t hear their conversation. Isaac moved them closer to the door. “I’m placing a lot of faith in her. I want a backup plan.”

The scar running from the top of Nicholas’s skull to the bottom of his chin pulled down at his eye, giving him a cruel expression. “What did you have in mind?”

“Bring Mr. Richards in here.” Isaac watched Adelaide’s finger freeze on a single spot along the table. Rumors of the monster inside her mind had spread since Christian Wren set her loose on a federal agent, but it was how Wren did it that interested him now. He studied her carefully, memorizing every feature of her petite form. “And call the carpet cleaner.”

Nicholas nodded and left.

Isaac stepped closer to his prize, staring down onto her head of white-blonde hair. With a weapon like Adelaide, he would skyrocket to the top of the underground crowd. No one would stand in his way with her by his side, but he had to control her first.

Muffled pleas and scuffling footsteps echoed down the hallway. With a single push, Nicholas forced Devon Richards into the conference room. Hands tied, mouth taped, Devon stumbled inside, dried tears crusting on his face.

“Sit,” Isaac demanded.

His prisoner followed the order and a pang of pride shot through Isaac’s chest. Control. That’s all he needed. With Adelaide involved, he’d have Devon telling him his darkest secrets soon, and, hopefully, the female’s loyalty. Nothing else mattered at this moment.

Nicholas leaned back against the wall, arms over his chest, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Are you ready to tell me what I want to know, Devon?” He made a lazy circle around the conference table, watching Adelaide assess the prey in front of her. He’d heard of her undeniable attraction to blood and wondered if the rumors held truth. From the slow journey her tongue made across her bottom lip, he had his answer.

Isaac stopped at the head of the table, keeping both predator and prey in sight. Nothing could be more perfect. “Do you know who this is?”

A shake of the victim’s head nearly ripped a laugh from Isaac’s throat.

“So you haven’t heard the rumors.” Isaac couldn’t keep the chill at the base of his spine from spreading. Even without the duct tape on his mouth, Devon wouldn’t talk. They’d already pulled his back teeth, broken his nose and taken the tips of his fingers. Only one option remained. Isaac turned his attention to his new toy as anticipation clawed up his throat. “I have someone I want you to meet, Adelaide.”

* * *

Torrhent stripped off her tank top and underwear, both of which were in desperate need of a washing, and stepped into the shower.

The hot water seared her skin, but as it grew more comfortable she relaxed into the spray. She let it wash away the grime and dirt for a few minutes before washing her hair and body. No guards watching. No fellow inmates to impress. Totally alone. Exactly what she needed.

There wasn’t a razor around she could see, but she’d live without shaving if she had to. She’d done it before. She searched harder, opening the shower curtain to peek around the bathroom.

It was small but well kept, and better than the rest stops. The tile was clean, the counter uncluttered, but no razor.

“He must use an electric shaver.” She put the subject out of her mind.

As clean as she would get, Torrhent stepped out, leaving her hair to dry on its own. She tried to tuck the short locks behind her ear, wondering if her captor would notice her hairy legs.

Captor. She scoffed at the word.

Her plan had taken an unexpected turn. On the one hand, she’d succeeded in gaining Harrington’s help. On the other, it seemed he was determined to be in charge. She’d allow it, to a point. They still had to make it back to New York, and the trip would take a few days at least. She didn’t exactly look forward to it, but public transportation was out of the question. Too many prying eyes.

They’d have to drive. Long hours. Enclosed spaces. With a killer. The thought forced goose bumps to pimple on her cooling skin. She wanted nothing more than to get back in the shower.

She grabbed for a towel rack to balance herself, but it was too late. Her feet slipped against the tile and she went down, landing flat on her back. The sound of her skull hitting the tub sent vibrations throughout her entire body.

There was a knock on the door. “Everything okay?”

She tried to breathe evenly. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Harrington said through the door. “Are you dressed?”

Torrhent pushed herself from the floor. “Don’t come in.” Supporting her weight against the toilet, she made it to the vanity. “Oh, shit.” A lump began to form on the back of her head.

“What?”

“Nothing!” She listened to his steps fade as she dried the rest of her body.

Another knock on the door made her jump. “Here.”

“What?” she asked skeptically.

“Just open the door and find out.”

Hiking the towel around every inch of exposed skin she could, Torrhent carefully unlocked the door. She pulled it open an inch.

“I brought you these.” Harrington stared in at her, his electric blue gaze roaming down her body. It sent heat into her face and smoothed the bumps on her arms. He lifted a piece of black cloth up to her eyes and pushed his arm inside. “They won’t fit, but it’ll have to do until you can wash your clothes.”

She took the pile from him and muttered a quick thank-you. Her stomach ached with the sentiment he’d shown her. She shut the door in his face and locked it again.

“It’s Monday,” she shouted through the door. “Don’t you have a job to go to or something?”

She’d been a fugitive for exactly one week. With everything she’d been through in the past week, she couldn’t imagine what lay ahead or if she’d live to see it. The idea made her nauseous.

“Just get dressed.”

The clothing he’d handed to her were women’s, but larger. She couldn’t decide if the black T-shirt and red shorts revealed that a woman lived in the apartment or if John Harrington collected women’s clothing. Neither seemed any of her business.

She opened the door.

“Better?” he asked from the couch. His eyes focused on the television, sounds of the familiar voice of Agent Trullio carrying over to her.

“Yes.” She stared down at the wad of clothing in her arms and felt half naked without a bra or underwear. A breeze shifted the air in the room and she shivered against her will. “Thanks again.”

“Have a seat.” He pointed to a recliner. “You’ll want to see this.”

Her feet shuffled across the floorboards. Torrhent tried to hide the anxiety crawling down her spine. His tone forced her feet to move.

The local news reporter’s voice grew louder with a touch of a button.

Again, if you’re just joining us here, Torrhent Lynd has moved to the number two spot on the FBI’s most wanted list. Any information you have on her whereabouts should be reported to Agent Karen Trullio of the FBI.
The second anchor took over.
The convicted murderer was last seen with this man.

Harrington’s picture took residence beside hers.

“Oh, my god!” Torrhent bolted to her feet, the lump from the bathtub almost splitting her head in two. She automatically cradled it as she winced in pain.

He got off the couch as she bent over. “What happened to your head?”

Taigen Banvard has been suspected in three murders and is currently up on charges for aiding and abetting. If you have any information, please call the number at the bottom of the screen.

Her eyes darted toward the screen, ignoring his question. She read the screen again. “Taigen Banvard?”

She looked back at him, making sure the picture matched the man less than a foot away. A flurry of emotions bloomed in the center of her chest in record time: confusion, betrayal, anger, but nothing compared to the pain in her head.

“Is that your real name?” she groaned.

“Let me see your head.” He got up from the couch, reaching toward her. His fingers traced a line from the nape of her neck to the lump.

She felt the warmth of his breath as their pictures stared back at her in silence. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t trusted her with the truth.
Why should he trust you?
You’re a convicted murderer, you idiot.
“Ouch!”

“Sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Torrhent tried to squirm away from his touch, but he held her still. She didn’t wait for his answer. “So your name is Taigen Banvard?”

“It’s just a bump.” He pulled away, heading into the kitchen. “It should go down in a couple of hours.”

He hadn’t answered her question. His icy tone told her he didn’t want to talk about it, and gaining his trust was the most important element of her plan.

“We leave tonight,” he called to her. “You can rest until then.”

Torrhent sat back down, her body sinking from the exhaustion she’d been pushing back for hours. Rest would have to wait. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer we just get on with the reason you brought me here.”

“As you wish.”

The words sent a chill down her spine, reminding her of her favorite book. He moved closer, the smell of cinnamon enveloping her. Taigen sat on the coffee table in front of her. He was too close and radiating heat from even two feet away. He shifted again, his shoulders tensing. His lips pursed as he thought over his next words and she found herself staring absently, wondering what they would feel like. “Who was the guy at the jail?”

Torrhent wrenched herself back into reality. “I don’t know. He’s been following me since Vegas, at least. Saw him in Phoenix, too.”

“What does he want with you?”

She shrugged. “Hard to say. I’m sure my stepfather has something to do with it though.”

“You mean Isaac Rutler?” A chuckle escaped his throat. He rubbed his face with both hands, almost as if he were exasperated with the situation. “All right. Tell me more about him. Why would he send a hit man after you?”

“Because he set me up for a murder I didn’t commit and he didn’t expect me to escape. Other than that, I don’t know anything else.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze targeted on her. “In that case, I don’t need you.”

Taigen rose, wrapping his fingers around her bicep, and pulled her to her feet.

She tried to wrench her arm free. “What are you
doing
?”

“I know a nice agent with the FBI who’s been looking for you.”

* * *

“You wouldn’t turn me over.” She ripped her arm out of his grip. The fear seeping into Torrhent’s eyes was the first of a long series of tells slowly sliding across her face as they stopped in the middle of the floor. “I don’t even think you’d give me to Isaac.”