Hero Unmasked: 3 (Heroes of Saturn) (17 page)

The door opened before she finished the sentence.

A man who stood with a smirk on his handsome face waved them into the house. “I was wondering how long you were going to stand there. Are you having second thoughts?”

“Hardly,” Brett scoffed and held out her hand. “Thanks for helping, Marco.”

“Anything for you, doll.” He took her hand and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re looking good, Briggs. You’re almost pretty. Must be all that mountain air.”

While the words were said in jest, the light in his eyes could burn holes in her clothing. The man was lucky Kristos wasn’t around, or else he’d need to apply for disability.

Marco’s brow furrowed. “What happened to your eyes? I remember them being darker.”

“And I remember you having less gray up top. I think your old age is affecting your memory.”

“I’m only a year older than you.”

“Physically, yes, but I question your mental maturity. Anyway, we can trade barbs later.” She touched Dhavin on the arm. “This is the Chameleon and the reason why I called you. Cam, meet Captain Marco DeWinter. I know he’ll do all he can to get Fiona back.”

Dhavin shook the offered hand. “I’m relying on you, Captain.”

DeWinter tightened his grip, his shrewd stare took a calculating perusal of the Chameleon while the pressure of his hand tightened. The captain’s strength was rather impressive for someone who was built more like a runner than a fighter. If Dhavin was human, he might have flinched.

After several seconds, the captain released his hold and stepped back. “Interesting uniforms you have there in Cedar, Briggs. The sword is a nice touch.”

“Don’t be an ass, Marco.”

“Tell me, Chameleon.” His lip curled at the name. “Is this your first trip to the city?”

“Yes, it is.” At least in this uniform it was.

“Interesting. We had an incident a few months ago involving two men going at each other with swords. They were quite skilled with the weapon. Anyone you know?”

Ah yes, Bale and Kristos. When Bale had been hell-bent on destroying Lucian and Amaryllis, Kristos had confronted the assassin in a very public display of their warrior skills dressed as the Chameleon.

“No. I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with every person in this area who can wield a sword.”

The captain didn’t look convinced but nodded. “Let me guess.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Dhavin did not miss the purposeful flex of his biceps beneath the tight black cotton t-shirt. “You decided to play superhero and messed with someone you shouldn’t. Now your girlfriend is paying the price. Man, I wish guys like you would go get real jobs and leave the police work to the professionals.”

Dhavin held up a hand to stop the tirade he felt boil up in Brett. “I understand your position, Captain DeWinter. I do all that I can to not interfere in police matters, which I’m certain Sheriff Briggs can attest to. I am the patron of the people, and I always will be. Mr. Smithwick has determined that I am an obstacle on his mission to spread his disease beyond the city, and for that, someone I care about very deeply is now in danger. I ask for your assistance because I want to obey the law, but understand I am more than capable of laying siege and lancing the pus-filled boil that is Smithwick before you’ve drawn your weapon. Tell me now if we have an accord.”

DeWinter drew in a breath and turned to Brett with a raised brow. “Where did you dig up this guy?”

She smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. What’ll it be, Marco? Will you help us or do I let him off his leash? Trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

He swept them with another long, probing stare then motioned for them to follow him into the dining area where several maps and papers cluttered the surface. A foam board was propped against the wall where more papers and photos were pinned. Two more officers typed on laptops and nodded in greeting as DeWinter gave a hasty introduction.

“After I received your scan of the letter left at the scene, I sent two units to scout the location.” DeWinter nudged one of the officers over and began pulling up pictures on the computer. “As you know, the letter S could stand for anyone, and Smithwick is a cool player. No matter what angle we approach from, it’s nearly impossible to directly tie him to anything illegal. The Millstone building, and surrounding two blocks, are owned by a company called Sonic Star Development based out of Peru. We believe this company is one of Smithwick’s fronts, but again, it’s been impossible to confirm.

The whole area is set for demolition next week to make way for a forty-story high rise condominium, ’cause Lord knows what this city needs is another empty, overpriced, goddamn high-rise.”

As he spoke, photos of the building scrolled across the monitor. The slideshow paused at a night-vision picture of two men wearing heavy black winter coats as they slipped into a side door.

“We can’t confirm if your girlfriend is in there or not, but we did see a few men who we know are associates of Smithwick’s enter the building.” DeWinter scrolled to another photo. “This guy is an unknown.”

The eyes in the photo glowed with an eerie white light and the face was mostly in shadow, but the long hair and flannel shirt was instantly recognizable.

“Trevor,” Brett breathed at the same time Dhavin spat, “Konkle.”

DeWinter chuckled. “I take it you all are acquainted.”

“Yeah, we’re familiar with the little shit,” Brett said.

Her words were much more polite than the stream of curses that burst from Dhavin’s lips before he caught himself and clenched his jaw together so tightly, everyone in the room flinched at the sound of teeth cracking.

Brett reached out her hand but seemed to think better of it and stepped back. “Cam, what is it?”

When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, as if he swallowed gravel. “He was in her shop. Two days ago I saw him in her shop. He left as soon as I arrived, but he said something to her that upset her. She said it was nothing, just harmless flirting, but she was frightened. Dammit, he was doing recognizance. I should have known she was in danger.”

“You didn’t know what he was planning.” Brett’s words were kind but little comfort. “Konkle’s small-time. How would we know he’s running with big guns like Smithwick? Frankly I’m surprised they let him near their operation at all.”

“I should have known. I should have sensed his emotions. This is all my fault.”

Anger burned hot, flaying his insides. The pain of his failure bent him in two. His nails bit into his palms, fighting the compulsion to bring the house, and the rest of the block, down around their heads.

“Rein it in, big man.” Brett braved his self-inflicted anger and crouched by his side. “We’ll get them, and Smithwick and Konkle will be put away forever.”

Pull it together. For Fiona, pull it together.

A howl ripped from his throat and the need to destroy took over his limbs. He pulled back his arm and punched down, his fist hammered through to the floorboards and down to the concrete below. The action sated the hunger as well as a Band-Aid on a compound fracture, but it had to do.

As bits of wood and carpet floated in the air, he stood and found three men staring at him with wide eyes and weapons drawn.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, then another. “What’s the plan?”

Thirty minutes later he left the safe house with an earpiece broadcasting back to Brett and DeWinter and a team of SWAT officers circling the neighborhood.

While the police were a necessary presence, he had his own backup following from rooftop to rooftop. External communication was prohibited, so he relied on his empathic ability to track Kristos’ and Lucian’s movements. As he approached the last block to his target, a shrill whistle caught his attention. A second later a small cylinder landed at his feet.

“What was that?” DeWinter asked through the headset.

“What was what?” Dhavin swept up the canister and kept walking.

“I thought I heard a sound, like a whistle or something.”

“Nothing here, Captain. All is quiet. Disturbingly so.”

“Well, keep us posted.”

“Will do.”

Inside the canister was a piece of parchment. The short missive scribbled on the paper did not give him comfort.

Three on one. Five on six. Two on top. No sign of F.

Fiona had to be in that building. She was Smithwick’s ace. As long as he had her, Dhavin had to cooperate. Until he had the Chameleon on a leash, he’d have Fiona as close to his side as a tattoo.

Dhavin didn’t break stride as he crushed the container and tossed the note down a darkened alley. Since the Chameleon was an expected guest, he didn’t bother with stealth. He walked right up the glass rotating door and strode confidently into the foyer, surprising the two men waiting inside with his boldness.

The armed man guarding the elevator stopped him with his gun drawn. “Hold it right there. You can’t just waltz right in.”

Dhavin smiled and held out his empty hands. “I have a personal invitation. If you could kindly point me in the right direction, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Fuck you, man. You’re not going anywhere until we’ve searched you.”

“Be my guest.” He stretched out his arms and waved a greeting toward the brand- new-looking camera he spotted perched above the reception desk.

Rough hands patted down his back and sides before moving up each of his legs.

“Sword.” The man with the gun demanded. “And do it slow.”

He removed his belt and held out the sword and scabbard, stifling a chuckle when the henchman who took it faltered under the weight and dropped it on his foot.

“Shit, man. That’s heavy,” he howled and hopped up and down.

“Quit fuckin’ off,” the gunman slapped the injured man on the back. “Let’s go, Hercules.”

Two men escorted him into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Dhavin saw a dark shadow steal across the floor toward the one remaining guard. Soon his sword would be in safe hands.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor where more men waited by the door. In the middle of the room sat a single table decorated for fine dining, complete with crystal goblets and a floral centerpiece. To the right, a man Dhavin presumed by his expensive suit and smug grin was Smithwick, reclined on a velvet upholstered chair.

Fiona wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and a scan with his empathetic powers didn’t reveal her presence. Unless she was on the roof with the other two guards, she had to be hidden on one of the other floors. Pray to the Gods Lucian or Kristos located her soon and take her to safety.

“Welcome, Chameleon. My, you are quite the sight to behold, aren’t you? I can see how your sheer size alone gave my men pause, but I have to say, I think the headdress is a bit over the top.” He lifted a glass filled with champagne. “May I offer you a beverage?”

“I didn’t know this was to be a social visit. If you don’t mind, I’ll get right to the point. You have something of mine. I want it back.”

“What a coincidence. You have something of mine as well. Perhaps we can reach an accord.”

“What do you want?”

“Peace of mind. I want you to step aside so I may continue my business transactions without interruption.”

“If I don’t stop you, the police will.”

Smithwick chuckled. “Ah yes, the police. They are nothing more than ants at a picnic. Annoying but tolerable. But you, you are a severe thorn in my side. You interfere because you want to, not because it’s a job, which tells me you are not swayed by money. Believe me, I wish our paths did not have to cross, but you’ve left me no choice but to take you out at the knees. Or in this case, the heart.”

He pushed the table, wheeling it away from his seat and revealing the object hidden by the table cloth.

Fiona lay on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest. The tiny slip of cloth she wore barely covered her backside and was so sheer, he saw the goose bumps prickling her skin. She stared into the distance, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

Now he understood why her emotional signature was hidden from his powers. Her shock-like condition had sunk deep into her subconscious, rendering her comatose. He might have mistaken her for dead, if not for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

“What have you done to her?” he shouted and took a step forward only to draw up short at the sound of several rifles cocking as all of Smithwick’s men trained their firearms at his torso. He took a breath to calm his franticly beating hearts and strived for his most uninterested tone of voice. “Let her go, Smithwick. Your fight is with me and not this girl. Her only offense is she was available when I had a need. Are you going to kidnap every woman I have intercourse with? You may need a bigger building to house them in.”

“A need?” Smithwick chuckled. “Oh, I like how you phrase that. Do you really think I’m stupid? Let’s see how much you don’t care about her when I do this.”

From beneath his jacket he withdrew an amulet that hung around his neck then pressed his thumb to the center. The electric buzz vibrated inside Dhavin’s ears, widening his eyes in shock as Fiona jerked and rolled onto her belly with a scream. Her hand went to her throat, her fingers curling around the collar.