The Bloodline War (38 page)

Spike Boy threw himself on top of her.

The cell phone slipped in her grip, dangling precariously from her fingertips.

“Now, now, no scarperin’ off, Tonĩ love.” Spike Boy yanked the phone out of her hands and hurled it against the wall.

Her heart drummed a pattern of panic in her chest. She’d managed to plant her thumb on number one, but had it been long enough to send a signal?

Rearing above her, Spike Boy planted a knee in the small of her back and wrenched her arms behind her.

She struggled and yelled, her stomach heaving into her throat.

Spike Boy zipped a plastic spot-tie around her wrists, then flipped her onto her back and stuffed a ball gag into her mouth.

No
! She hissed a breath from her nostrils, her eyeballs flexing in terror against their sockets. A scream pounded against her larynx. Jaċken! But her husband was knocked out on the floor. Not dead,
thank you, God
—Spike Boy had used pellets again—but certainly in no position to help her.

Spike Boy hefted himself off her, pausing to rake his gaze over her body. “Fuck me ragged, but you’re a right fine piece.” His black eyes glittered. “It’s goin’ to be a bit of all right knobbin’ you, especially between the—”

The sound of the hotel door opening brought Spike Boy’s head whipping around.

The Vârcolac were entering the room—they’d received her call!—but they were coming in slowly and cautiously, no doubt figuring they’d be arriving in the middle of a marital spat.

Spike Boy had plenty of time to move into ambush position.

Thrashing her legs, Tonĩ tried to scream a warning around her ball gag.

Thomal was first through the door, his eyes jerking wide at the unexpected presence of an Om Rău.

Spike Boy grabbed Thomal by the throat and testicles. “Another ’round with
you
, is it?” He tossed Thomal across the room, sending him smashing through the fourth floor window in an explosion of razor-edged glass.

“Thomal!” Arc shouted. He pulled a Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon across the room after his brother, flinging his body halfway through the broken window just in time to catch Thomal by the forearm. The two men dangled there as Spike Boy snatched his rifle off the hotel table and swung toward—

Gábor let fly a knife.

The blade sliced deep into Spike Boy’s shoulder, white acid spraying. The Om Rău yelled and dropped his weapon.

Nỵko surged in behind Gábor, hissing when he saw Tonĩ trussed up like a prize deer, and Jaċken sprawled out on the floor. He reached for a knife on his belt—

Another Om Rău—Skull—appeared behind Nỵko in the hotel doorway, his own rifle up.
Sh-zip
. He took out Gábor.

Eye-blink quick, Nỵko spun around and snatched up the barrel of the rifle, ramming the stock back into Skull’s face, driving the man’s nasal bone into his brain. Skull’s face tilted skyward, flat as a plate, white acid fountaining in all directions. As the Om Rău timbered over like a felled oak tree, Nỵko snatched the rifle out of his hands, whirled, and shot Spike Boy twice.
Sh-zip
,
sh-zip
.

The pellets splatted harmlessly against Spike Boy’s leather jacket. He laughed. “We’re immune to the enchantment, tosser. Why else do ye think we swan about with these pellet rifles? They can never be used against—”

Nỵko rushed him.

Spike Boy stomped on the butt of his own rifle, flipping it up into his hands.
Sh-zip
. “—against us.”

Nỵko dropped to the floor.

Spike Boy turned, saw Arc still dangling, and pegged the blonde warrior with two pellets.

Arc crumbled out of the window, falling four stories down with his brother to the street below.

Tonĩ let out a strangled cry.

Spike Boy sauntered over to the bed and stared down at Tonĩ with those shiny black eyes of his. “Well, shite, Sunshine, looks like everyone’s catchin’ a good forty winks now.” His lips pulled back from his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “No rescuin’ for you today, love. What a bleedin’ shame.”

Chapter Forty-one

S>edge Stănescu rolled his shoulders to settle the blazer into a better fit across his body, grimacing as he did. The monkey suit was annoying the hell out of him. His thick, broad body just wasn’t made for pulling off “businessman” comfortably, but he had to look the part of a reputable, up-and-coming newscaster for this performance. Although his overall “look” probably wasn’t being helped much by the insane rage pouring off him in scalding waves.

Damn it, the dick-breath was
late
.

Sedge started to pace again. What kind of unprofessional piece of shit couldn’t manage to—

A knock sounded at the hotel door.

Dev Nichita swiveled his head toward Sedge, his silver eyes lighting up with savage Pure-bred fire. Dev’s lust for violence was nearly as heated as Sedge’s.

“Do you think maybe you can ratchet down the psycho killer a bit, Nichita?” Sedge said in a low tone. “You look like a vampire right now, and one who’s totally pumped to disembowel a guy.”

With a quick lift of his brows, Dev said, “Have you taken a look at your own face in the mirror, Stănescu?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sedge drew in a deep, calming breath. “Let’s both put a lid on it, okay? I don’t want to blow this.”

Dev nodded, inhaled his own chillax breath, then crossed to the door. Putting on his best grin, he threw open the door. “Tim Armbruster!” he exclaimed, reaching out and pumping the football star’s hand vigorously. “It’s a real pleasure, man. Over a thousand yards rushing, eight TDs this season…. You’re my favorite running back of all time.”

Armbruster smiled broadly. “Hey, thanks, fella, it’s always nice to meet a fan.” The tall, built athlete stepped inside, limping only slightly from the knee he’d strained over two weeks ago. He clapped Dev on the shoulder as he passed into the room. “You look like you could do some damage yourself. You ever play?”

“Nah, nah, not really,” Dev lied. “Just spend a lot of time in the gym.”

“Ah, well, not everyone can toss the pigskin around, right?” Armbruster chuckled, the sound filled with arrogance.

Dev sliced a look at Sedge.

Yeah,
fucking poser
. The guy was going to make this even easier than it already was.

“Not as good as you, at least,” Dev drawled.

Sedge stepped forward. “Mr. Armbruster, I’m Bob Haywood.” He shook Armbruster’s hand, gritting his back molars together to keep from pulverizing the man’s bones right then and there. This hand had committed unspeakable acts of violence against Kimberly. “And you’ve just met my cameraman, Chip Landon.” He gestured to Dev, dressed in chinos and a polo shirt, lucky bastard. “Thanks for coming out to do this segment on running backs. As I mentioned in my email, I’m a brand new broadcaster at ESPN, and having a man like you on the show will really help give me a leg up.”

Armbruster chuckled that obnoxious chuckle again. “Hey, an all-expenses paid trip to the Hotel del Coronado, Bob? Who can say no to that? “

Sedge bared his teeth in what he hoped was something close to a smile.
Bob
.
Did I say you could call me
Bob
, asswipe
?

Armbruster glanced around. “So….” He sniffed. “Who else you got coming in?”

“Chris Johnson from the Tennessee Titans is lined up for tomorrow. Right, Chip?”

“Day after.”

“Ah.”

Armbruster crossed his arms, some of his arrogance slipping. “Johnson’s good. Top of his game right now.”

Better than you, loser
. “We only picked the best for this segment,” Sedge said smoothly, amazed the words didn’t sound as gritted as they felt.

“Yeah….” Armbruster nodded, puffing up again. “Makes sense.”

The muscles in Sedge’s hands tightened into preemptive fists. “Why don’t you come on in and get settled.” He led the football player past the large camera on its tripod, set up just for show, although it was tempting to record what was really going to go down. Sedge wouldn’t mind having it for posterity. “We’ll discuss how this is going to run.”

“Jesus,” Armbruster exclaimed as he spotted the array of photos laid out on a rectangular table across the room. “Look at all this.” He stopped at the long side of the table and inspected the pictures. Some were action shots, others of him at parties or events.

Sedge took up position at the short end of the table, kitty corner to Armbruster. “Great, huh? We’re going to use these for publicity.”

“Some go back to my Huskies days at the University of Washington.”

Sedge checked for reaction on Armbruster’s face. The man’s gaze passed dismissively over the photo of himself and Kimberly leaving some after-game party, her in a beaded gown, young and so pretty, her yellow hair long. It was if she was nothing. Less than nothing. Sedge wrapped his fingers around the edge of the table.

Dev came to stand at the other short end, across from Sedge. “Wow, man.” He whistled under his breath. “You never lacked for some serious beauties on your arm, did you?”

Armbruster chuckled again, the sound making Sedge grip the table harder. “I’ve never suffered in that department, fella, that’s for sure. And they weren’t always on my arm, but generally on their
knees
, if you get what I mean.” He winked at Dev, the gesture dripping with superiority.

Dev smiled, just short of showing his fangs. “Ho, yeah.” Anyone who didn’t know the warrior wouldn’t notice the
I-can’t-wait-to-see-your-face-get-fucking-ripped-off
in the expression, but Sedge did.

Sedge nodded subtly at Dev.
Let’s do this thing before I snap the table in two
.

Eyes glinting, Dev’s smile took on a nasty edge. “Actually, I think Bob knows one of these women.” He gestured at the photos. “Don’t you, Bob?”

“In fact I do, Chip.” Sedge moved to the long side of the table, directly across from Armbruster. “Her.” He pointed to the picture of Kimberly. “Do you remember this woman,
Tim
?”

The football player went still, a tic of muscle pulsing in his jaw as he
surely
felt the hostility Sedge was allowing to seethe off him now.

Armbruster’s eyelashes flickered, as if he’d involuntarily conducted a searching glance of the room.
Not gonna find any friends here, pal
.

“Or,” Sedge went on, his voice a low drawl of menace, “have you just abused too many women during your days as an asshole to keep count of them all at this point?”

Sedge could almost see the cogs and wheels in Armbruster’s brain turning as he contemplated his next move. The running back finally lifted his head, meeting Sedge’s cold stare with a frosty one of his own. “What the hell is this?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“You’re not an ESPN newscaster, are you?”

“Quick of you.”

Armbruster stepped back from the table, tension visibly tightening his muscles. “You’ve wasted a lot of time and money then, big guy. I remember Kim, yeah. She’s a crazy bitch, if you haven’t already figured that out. Whatever she said about me isn’t true.”

Fury seared the back of Sedge’s throat and hazed his vision. “Excuse me, but did you just call my wife a
bitch
?”

Dev crossed his arms over his chest. “That kind of confirms a lot about this schmuck, doesn’t it, Bob?”

“You scumbags don’t know shit,” Armbruster snapped back. “You only know her side of the story. Betcha she told you I killed her unborn baby, right? That’s total crap. She
miscarried
, all on her own, but she never got over it, that’s the problem. She went completely loopy, talking smack about me and shit. I finally had to break up with her,
me
, and now she’s feeding you the same pile of bull.”

Sedge ducked his chin, his nostrils flaring. In his own kitchen, he’d witnessed Kimberly confess the story of her relationship with this monster. He’d sooner believe the sun was going to rise from beneath his scrotum tomorrow than what Armbruster had just said—even without the additional evidence that hacker god, Alex Parthen, had unearthed for him. “A guy like you doesn’t have any balls at all, you know that. You have to beat on and terrorize someone smaller and weaker than you to feel like a man. It’s pathetic.”

“Right,” Armbruster sneered. “You’re going to believe that little cunt over me because she’s your source of pussy. Not surprising, but it doesn’t make it right.”

“Jay-sus,” Dev flared, “the way this guy talks about women is really starting to bug me. How ’bout you, Bob?”

Sedge narrowed his eyes on the football player. “Definitely.”

Dev lifted a manila folder off the edge of the table. “Yo, douche-nozzle, what’s your explanation for what happened to your other girlfriends, then, huh? This file here is filled with hospital reports about at least half a dozen other women you dated.”

Armbruster didn’t react. His silence was really fucking telling, though.

Scenting the kill, Dev laughed low in his chest, the sound hair-raising. “Do you know what it’s like to feel helpless, Armbruster?”

“He’s going to find out,” Sedge promised darkly.

“Yeah, all right. Whatever.” The running back squared his shoulders. “So how we doing this? Both of you at once? One at a time? Whatever it is, bring it, fudge-packers. I’ve handled worse.”

Dev settled his hip on the edge of the table. “I’m just here to enjoy the show,
fella
. This is totally Bob’s deal.”

“Just one of you?” Armbruster laughed scornfully. “Why, this is almost going to be too easy.”

“I’m thinking, not so much.” Dev smirked. “How’s that knee, anyway?”

Sedge was over the table lightning quick.

Chapter Forty-two

Tonĩ’s pulse was nearly pounding out of her mouth by the time Spike Boy pulled his car up in front of a sprawling Mediterranean-style mansion. She flexed her bound hands behind her back and shivered. Jesus, what
was
this? Blazing porch lights chased back the night to reveal a red tile roof, terracotta walls, white-slatted shutters, and subtropical landscaping. She’d thought she was going to be brought to a “crib.”