Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (17 page)

He also knew that she’d avoided responding to his new plan. He wasn’t an idiot. But all of him hoped that she would recognize the need behind the plan. As long as Luis — that fucker — was alive, Gabriel and Dahlia were in danger. She loved her son too much to put him in danger, just so she could have her freedom. Right? He hoped.

She sighed in his arms, and Jericho was pretty sure he’d never been this content. Not even with Emily. Granted, he’d already known Dahlia longer than he’d been in love with Emily, but still. Emily had been his first — his only — for the last eight years. She had been perfect, sweet, adorable. Compared to Dahlia, they were like night and day. Emily the light, Dahlia the dark, seductive night.

And he wondered now how he’d ever thought he would be happy with anything other than what Dahlia brought to the table. Even when making love to Emily the few times they had, he’d never lost control with her like he had just looking at Dahlia’s bare body. Emily had inspired a calm in him; Dahlia threw him out of his mind.

And he felt a twinge of guilt that he preferred the chaos to what he would have had with his first mate.

He was unable to hold his lust at bay any longer. His raging erection twitched inside Dahlia, and her head snapped up. A slow, lazy smile spread across her face and she winked at him before lowering her head to place a gentle kiss to his lips.

As soon as their lips touched, Jericho lost it — again. He flipped them over, settling between her spread thighs and thrusting in a slow rhythm while he deepened their kiss.

“Mmm …
baby
,” she gasped against his lips as her hips joined his. “You feel so good.” She moaned again. “Like there’s nothing between us.”

He smiled down at her, but only for a second because she suddenly froze, her eyes widening in horror. Jericho froze, too, unsure what had just happened.

With superhuman strength, Dahlia pushed Jericho away from her. He reluctantly withdrew from her body, and her eyes flew down to look at his glistening erection.

“Oh,
shit
,” she said softly.

His eyes followed hers down to where she was gaping, expecting to find … he wasn’t sure what. He relaxed in relief to see everything was still attached where it was supposed to be. He looked at her again, confused.

“Where’s the condom?” she asked, panic in her voice, panic that finally found its way into Jericho’s brain.

His chest seized. He could feel his eyes stretching as wide as saucers. Oh, God, he’d done it again. He might have just gotten her pregnant. His baby would kill her. He’d lose her —

All the air he needed rushed into his lungs as he remembered a vital detail. “Hey,” he crooned to her wildly writhing form as she tried to get out from under him. “It’s okay. You’ve eaten the fruit, remember?”

Instead of calming her like he’d thought, she fought harder, smacking his chest — a habit of hers apparently — with an open palm until he moved back and let her up. “You think I’m worried about
dying
?” she screeched as she frantically looked around the floor for her clothing.

Jericho tried not to focus on the way her body moved as she bent over to pick up her pants and shirt. “Aren’t you?” he asked.

“No, you ass! I’m worried about bringing another child into this world — by myself!” She jerked her shirt over her head with violent movements and then stepped into her jeans.

Jericho relaxed completely. “No worries,” he told her. “We’ll get married.” It was the part of the plan he hadn’t shared with her yet. No time like the present.

She froze in the process of buttoning her jeans. Slowly, her head came up. The look in her eyes froze the blood in his veins. Every spark of affection was absent from her usually warm brown eyes. Her face was a hardened mask. “Married?” she said in a low voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She stalked toward him where he sat on the bed, and he had to resist the urge to scoot away from her as she neared. “I’m already married, remember?” She flung the words in his face. “To an asshole who beat me, knocked me up, and is now after my son.”

Jericho had nothing to say to that. Somehow,
But I love you
, seemed grossly inadequate. She didn’t wait for him to say anything anyway, spinning on her heel and stomping away from him toward the door.

He was losing her. His frantic mind screamed at him for action, and he was out of the bed before he had the time to think it through. He sprinted across the bedroom and caught her just in front of the door. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her back against his front, and buried his face in her hair. She immediately struggled against his hold, but he stilled her movements easily. “Shh,” he whispered. “Dahlia, stop and think. We’re an Impulse pair. We can’t live without each other.” She snorted. “Okay, I can’t live without you,” he corrected. “I love you, sweetheart.”

She stopped struggling and seemed to deflate in his arms. He gathered her closer, pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “That’s what you all say,” she whispered in a defeated voice.

“This is different, and you know it,” he softly scolded her.

“Do I?” she turned in his arms to pin him with a questioning glare filled with hope, filled with doubt.

He decided on a different tactic. “This all started because you’re worried about pregnancy. We don’t even know if you’re pregnant.” Yet. He felt terrible because she so obviously didn’t want it, but every fiber of his being hoped she was. God, the idea of finally having a child.
Their
child. It nearly sent him to his knees.

She snorted. “How many of the Impulse pairs have conceived from first consummation?”

Jericho hesitated. “There have been only two of us — ”

She shook her head. “How. Many.”

“Both.” He said the word so softly, she wouldn’t have heard it if she didn’t have enhanced hearing.

“That’s right,” she said. “One hundred percent conception rate, Jericho.”

“So, let me show you how it will be different, sweetheart,” he begged. “Let me marry you. Make a family with you. If you’re pregnant, I’ll be over the moon. We’ll be happy.”

She was shaking her head, and his words drifted off. She gave him a sad smile. “Show me how it will be different? Every man in my life has said some variation of what you just told me. How many of them do you see around now?”

“Me,” he said, gulping down panic. “I’m around.”

A frantic pounding came from the bedroom door. “Dahlia!” a woman screamed.

They both froze, fear stealing through Jericho’s veins like poison.

Dahlia burst into action, swooping down, grabbing Jericho’s pants and tossing them to him. He quickly stepped into them as Dahlia opened the door.

Esperanza burst into the room. Frantic Spanish poured from her mouth as she clung desperately to Dahlia’s arms. Jericho could understand nothing of what was being said, but he knew from the woman’s tone that something terrible had happened.

Dahlia leaned in closer, and Jericho could see her focusing on Esperanza’s words, and then her face blanched. Her knees gave out, and Jericho rushed forward and caught her just before she hit the floor.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“He’s gone,” she moaned.

Jericho’s heart stopped. She didn’t have to tell him who “he” was. Gabriel was missing.

He switched over into soldier-mode with his next heartbeat. “When?” It had to have been recently. Jericho realized with a start that Gabriel had been taken while he and Dahlia were closed up in this room together. He’d distracted her, and as a result, her son had been taken.

He groaned. He had to make this right. She had every right to hate him, but he was going to do what he could to make it up to her.

And that meant getting Gabriel back and making sure he was never in danger again.

Both women were inconsolable. “When?” Jericho asked again, this time firmer. Dahlia’s head snapped up at his tone, and he was relieved to see that, instead of anger, determination shone on her face.

“Just now,” she said. “From the front yard where he was … playing.” Her voice broke on the last word.

He nodded once. “Okay, I need weapons.” He already knew where Dahlia’s stash was, but she didn’t know that. Rather than distract her anymore, he chose to let her lead him to the hidden gun safe below the floorboards in the corner of the room.

Esperanza’s sobs provided a soundtrack for them as Jericho picked through the guns, appreciative for Dahlia’s good taste. He picked up two matching Sig Sauers and a shoulder holster. Dahlia surprised him when she picked up a knife in an ankle sheath and a modified Beretta, which she stuffed into the back of her pants.

He shot her a questioning glance, which she returned with grim determination. “You’re going to get him, right?” she asked. When he nodded, she said, “Then, I’m coming with you.”

Relief that his Dahlia — the strong, kick-ass fighter — was back filled his chest, and he couldn’t resist pulling her in for a brief hug. “I’ll fix this,” he said.

Her eyes flashed doubt, but she nodded. They walked to the door, where Dahlia paused briefly to whisper to Esperanza in Spanish. The older woman, who looked like she’d aged decades in the last few minutes, nodded and whispered,
“Mi hijo es malo. Matenlo.”

Dahlia drew back sharply. After a couple of tense seconds, she nodded, then looked at Jericho, motioning for him to lead the way.

He walked out of the room, down the hallway, and out of the house with Dahlia fast on his heels. “What did she say?” he asked as they both climbed into the truck.

She looked at him briefly, and then directed her eyes forward. “She said her son is evil. And to kill him.”

Jericho turned in his seat, looked out the back window, and reversed out of the driveway. It would not be hard to follow this son of a bitch. The neighbors stood in their yards gazing down the road in the direction he had gone.

Dahlia stared in the direction her neighbors were looking. Nothing slipped by in this neighborhood. But Dahlia was shocked that her neighbors were not only out on the street, but obviously waving them on in the direction Luis had taken Gabriel.

Usually when something like this happened, everyone stayed inside, away from the doors and windows.

But then again, nothing like this had ever really happened before. There was an unspoken agreement among rivals that children were off-limits. Now that that agreement had been broken, it appeared the neighborhood was ready to break its silence.

Jericho drove dangerously fast, and they were out of the neighborhood in seconds. Suddenly, there were no neighbors to guide them. Panic rose in Dahlia’s throat again.

“How will we know where he is?” she asked Jericho desperately.

Without taking his eyes from the road, Jericho reached behind his seat and fished around. Seconds later, his hand emerged clutching some sort of device. He tossed it her direction and returned both hands to the wheel.

Dahlia recognized it as soon as she got her hands on it. “A tracking device?”

He eyed her warily before saying, “I’ve put one on him, and you, every day.”

She was speechless. He reached toward her, shoved aside her hair, and plucked something from the back of her shirt. He held it before her face. It was a little metal disc, about the size of a dime, covered in what looked like Velcro hooks.

“You were a flight risk,” he said apologetically.

Dahlia closed her eyes and breathed deeply for the first time since she’d discovered her son was taken. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed.

The relief she felt she saw echoed in Jericho’s features. No, he wasn’t going to get in trouble for this. It was going to save her son.

Without another word, she flipped open the device. It was one she was familiar with from her military training. She nearly cried with joy when she saw the blip on the radar. Her husband wouldn’t have thought to search the small boy for tracking devices.

“It looks like they’re about five miles ahead of us.”

Jericho said nothing, but stepped on the gas. The truck lurched forward, and Dahlia grabbed for the “Oh Jesus” handle. She held on with all her might and thanked God that Jericho was a genius behind the wheel and handling the enormous truck with ease. He wove in and out of traffic effortlessly.

“Don’t worry,” he said to her loudly over the roar of the engine. “We’ll get him back.”

Her eyes stung with unshed tears. His help meant more to her than anything in the world.

They covered ground quickly, and then the blip stopped moving. “They’ve stopped,” Dahlia shouted. Her heart thudded. “I know the place. An abandoned factory.”

Luis had taken their son to where they had all hung out when they were young and stupid. She couldn’t believe the building was still standing. It had been an utter pile of shit back when she’d been a teenager and stupid in love with the older, wiser — or so she’d thought — Luis. He had to be pretty confident that he’d get away with it to take Gabriel there. There wasn’t even any place to hide.

A muscle ticked in Jericho’s cheek. He didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his hand left the wheel and landed on her thigh, where he squeezed reassuringly. “We’ll get Gabriel back, sweetheart. I promise you.”

She nodded and gestured to the side of the road. “Pull over here. The lot’s close.”

Jericho did as she directed, and as soon as the truck wasn’t moving, Dalia was out and jogging through the dirt to the lot around the corner. Jericho caught up with her quickly. Once the building was in sight, Dahlia ducked behind an old, beat-up couch. Jericho skidded to a stop beside her. They breathed heavily from the run, but both of them made sure not to make a sound.

While they waited to catch their breath, Dahlia took in the scene. Not much had changed in the last decade. The lot was still surrounded by a derelict chain-link fence that was down in many areas. Stolen furniture spotted the front, barren lawn, and the tall, gray building rose up into the night sky. Most of the windows were gone, allowing an uninhibited view of the abandoned inside. But in the bottom floor, a trashcan fire was clearly visible, sending nightmarish shadows to the walls.