The Storm That Is Sterling (36 page)

He forced his gaze to hers, and he knew the stark desperation that must be there. But he couldn’t make it go away. He couldn’t tear through the torment. “I take risks, Becca. I don’t stop. I don’t think. I just act. And I save lives doing it. But that has been
my
life
I was gambling with, no one else’s.”

“You mean mine,” she said, her hand curling on his chest. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Of course we’re doing this,” he said roughly and kissed her. She tried to object, and he kissed her again. “We’re doing this.”

He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, spreading her legs as he did to settle intimately between them. Her dark hair spread on the ivory pillow. God… she was beautiful. She was his.

Resting his weight on his elbows, he declared, “We live together, and we die together. And we’ll save lives together.” He reached over and yanked open the bedside table and snatched up a pocketknife. “Starting now.”

“No!” she said, closing her hand over it. “Not now.”

“Becca, baby,” he pleaded. “Forget what I said. I was just scared.” Sterling inhaled against the impact of the admission, his gaze traveling to the ceiling as he regained composure. He leveled her in a stare and let her see the truth in his eyes. “I’ve not been scared in years. But I haven’t been this alive either. I want this, Becca. I’ll deal with the rest.”

“You have time to think about it,” she said. “We can’t do anything until after we catch Dorian.”

“What does Dorian have to do with this?”

“One of us has to survive to keep fighting.”

“Oh no,” he insisted. “Live and die together. No negotiations on this. You’ll be stronger and safer linked to me anyway.”

“And if the Lifebonding somehow changes me? If Dorian can tell I’m different, and he doesn’t see me as bait anymore? Or my ability is gone. Or my mind reads different somehow. We can’t risk the lives that will be lost if we don’t capture him. We can’t.”

A vice closed around Sterling’s chest because he didn’t want her to be right. But she was. Millions of lives were in jeopardy as long as ICE manufacturing existed. The free world was hanging by a string, ready to be snapped by Adam. His world crumbled around him as he realized… he might still lose Becca. He’d never felt so confused, so emotional, in his life.

He whispered her name and parted her legs, pressing deep inside her, becoming a part of her in the only way he could. Bond or no bond, she was his. She was in his soul, his heart. If she died, he’d be destroyed. He
would
die with her.

***

Becca woke in a warm, dark tunnel of sleep. Real sleep. The first she’d truly allowed herself in days—on her stomach and naked. A slow smile slid onto her lips as she thought of the many things she had done with Sterling. There were all kinds of reasons to be worried, concerned, and upset. But in that few seconds, she allowed herself to be something she had not been in months. Happy and in love. If she was going to die, she was going to do it as one satisfied, pleasured woman.

She pushed herself up on her hands, realizing the master of that pleasure was missing. Frowning at the muffled, but distinct sound of male voices from the living room, she quickly found a pair of soft, faded jeans and a T-shirt, passing on shoes out of urgent curiosity about what was going on. After a brief glimpse at her feet and her pale toenails, she wondered how a hot bath and bottle of red toenail polish had ever felt anything but adolescent and self-indulgent.

She opened the door as Sterling was saying, “I handed Becca to you.”

“You handed Becca to Tad,” Damion countered.

“We’ve been through this,” Michael said. “What are we proving by beating this dead horse? You both saw something different.”

“Tad wasn’t Tad,” Sterling said. “Eddie wasn’t Eddie.”

“Who the hell else could Eddie be, but flipping Eddie?” Michael asked roughly.

Becca had a sudden recall of Sterling’s memory, of him handing Becca to Damion. She understood now. He’d handed her to Damion, and then… Damion had simply become Tad. She launched into action, bringing the room into full view, stopping behind the couch. Michael leaned against the wall across from her. Caleb sat on the black leather chair to her right. Damion, in the one to her left, looked fully healed from his injuries. Sterling stood in the center of it all.

Curling her fingers into the couch cushion, she steeled herself for the reaction she knew the insanity of her words were sure to bring and said them, “What if Eddie
was
Tad? What if he can become whoever he wants to become?”

“I’m sorry,” Damion said. “But this isn’t the answer. It can’t be. I saw Sterling hand you to Tad. We couldn’t have seen two different people at once. Sterling was delirious, shot up with Green Hornets or drugged. Maybe the Zs have some sort of hallucinogenic they are using.”

Sterling whirled on him. “What if he shifted as I handed Becca over?”

Damion’s lips thinned. “The timing had to have been perfect, right as I rounded the corner, but I guess in the world we live in, anything is possible.” His brows dipped, his gaze locked on Sterling. “So you finally believe me? You don’t think I handed Becca over to Tad?”

“I believe you,” Sterling said.

Damion gave him a stunned look and nodded.

“You’re back to trusting each other,” Caleb said. “Good. And whether it was a shifter or a hallucinogenic, we need to operate as if nothing is as it seems and watch our backsides. Stack that on the pile with our other problems, the biggest being, how do we get to Dorian?”

Sterling’s eyes met Becca’s with stark despair. “Becca,” he said solemnly, his voice sounding forced. “Becca is still the answer. They want her. We have to find a way to give her to them, but not to Tad. We have to make sure Adam believes he has to come for her himself. Seek out Adam’s soldiers, and have Becca present when they go down. We kill them. Adam hates losing manpower because it forces him to use the limited serum he has to maintain his army.”

“One step further,” Michael said. “We target Tad. Take him out of the picture.” His words firmed. “I say Tad has to die. If Becca can be the one to pull the trigger—even better.”

***

Feeling quite the Madame in a slinky turquoise dress that contrasted her red hair and hugged her curves in all the right places, Sabrina exited the elevator of Magnolia and headed to the executive office where Tad—masquerading as Marcus—waited for her.

Their plan was back on—she would be pivotal in delivering Rebecca Burns to her death. She would play the role of the Madame, afraid for her life because she was double-crossing Iceman. She’d find her way into the Renegades’ operation close to Rebecca Burns and kill her. It was perfect. Sabrina couldn’t be happier that Tad’s plan the night before had failed. Now she would shine, show how valuable she could be, ensure she became Tad’s Lifebond, and mark her territory inside Zodius City. There she’d be treated like royalty, as he’d promised. She was tired of bending over for the world, chasing money and men, struggling to pay bills. She’d thought Iceman was her trip out of hell. He talked all kinds of world domination crap and then fell flat on his face. She wanted to be where the real power existed.

Plush carpet beneath her heels, Sabrina knocked on the door. When it opened, she strutted into the office of fine mahogany with expensive art in carefully placed positions, a sultry smile painted on her red lips, which faded with a shocking discovery. Marcus was sitting in his office chair, gagged and bound. Alive.

She whirled to face Tad, and despite her shock about Marcus, she didn’t miss the hotness of him all decked out in leather, looking like a mean fighting machine. He wasn’t handsome, not even close. But he was lethal—rough in all the right ways.

“I thought you’d killed him,” she said.

“Tossed some ICE down his throat and saved him,” Tad said. “He’s a present for Adam. Adam’s enemies are fed to his wolves in front of the city—eaten alive. Makes for an interesting night of entertainment.”

Even Sabrina, as cold a bitch as she knew she could be, felt a wave of nausea with that image. Marcus—formerly her powerful, vital Iceman—made wild animal-like sounds behind her. He was desperate. She didn’t blame him. Dead was better than being puppy chow any day.

Tad moved to the desk and leaned on the edge, his back to Marcus, who fought uselessly against his bindings.

She sashayed toward him. “So what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to give Adam what he wants, his traitor, gagged and bound. The answer to why people have been dying. Mass distribution of ICE. Control of this casino and those connected.”

She sidled up next to him, and he pulled her hard between his legs. “I did exactly what the Renegades believed I wouldn’t do.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her mouth to his, slicing his tongue along hers, his lust branding her, as it soon would his enemy. And she was going to be there for the show.

“Shuffle!” yelled the dealer.

Sterling relaxed. “Thank you Lord, the pain is over, if only for a few minutes,” he grumbled, eyeing the casino for any signs of Sabrina Walker, the redheaded cocktail waitress who Marcus had claimed was an ICE dealer.

“Any sign of her yet?” Becca asked from beside him, her leg pressed to his.

He was aware of her every move, her every touch, even the exact moment she needed to dose with that damn ICE that was keeping her alive. It was killing him to feed her those drugs, and then parade her around a casino as an invitation to Tad to try and kill her. It was like taunting the Grim Reaper—you didn’t do that shit unless you really wanted the kind of stink that meant you were ten feet under.

Sterling wanted this over. He wanted her safe. And he’d made it clear she wasn’t even going to the restroom without him. He didn’t give a damn if she had to wet herself and mess up those nice black jeans that hugged her ass in all the right ways.

“Not yet,” he said. “But her schedule says Friday at five. It’s Friday at five.”

“Marcus also said she lived in the hotel, but you’ve had men watching for her, and she’s yet to be seen,” Becca reminded him.

“She’ll be here,” Sterling said. “Because whether Marcus is working for Tad, being followed by Tad, or whether Tad is masquerading as Marcus, this woman is the connection to Tad. We find her. He finds us.”

“We’re at a blackjack table,” she said. “The only one who can’t find us here is the waitress with the free drinks. There are cameras everywhere.”

“You in?” the dealer asked.

“We’re in,” Becca said, scooting a chip forward for both herself and Sterling.

“Bingo,” Sterling murmured. “Four o’clock, coming our way.”

“The term would be blackjack,” Becca teased, discreetly glancing in the woman’s direction and watching her take a man’s order. “Oh yeah. You’re right. She’s your Madame caller. She has that queen attitude that other women hate.”

“Card?” the dealer asked.

Becca eyed the table and nudged Sterling. “You have thirteen. The dealer has twelve. He’s supposed to bust. That’s what the rule book says. You should stay.”

He cut her a disbelieving look. “How do you know?”

“Bunch of guys at NASA used to play all the time.” She smiled. “Okay. I played too.” She motioned to the table. “You should stay.”

“Fine,” he said, glancing at the dealer. “Stay.”

The dealer looked irritated, and Becca ran her tongue over her bottom lip, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Use your hand.”

Sterling kissed her because her lips were all shiny and tempting, inhaled the sweet scent of her that he wanted to breathe for a lifetime, and then cut a hand through the air.

The dealer flipped his cards and piled more money on Sterling’s area of the table.

“You keep winning,” she said.

Sterling shoved the money back at the dealer. “Tip.” He eyed Becca. “This is why I don’t gamble.”

“Because you like to win?”

“Because I don’t want to use up my luck at a damn poker table, instead of where I really need it,” he said and motioned to their mark.

“Sabrina” or “Madame” narrowed her gaze on him and looked a little frantic. Fake frantic. Sterling wasn’t an idiot, and she wasn’t a good actress. She sashayed in their direction, her breasts barely concealed by her low-cut cocktail dress. She was pretty in a slutty, never-see-you-after-this, morning-after kind of way. The kind of woman he would have favored before Becca. The kind of woman who represented how shallow and empty his life had been.

“Here we go,” Becca whispered.

“You in?” the dealer asked again.

Sterling cast him a hard look. “No, I’m not in, and I’ll flipping tip you to stop asking me that.”

Sabrina appeared by their table and made a not-so-discreet beeline for Sterling, ignoring Becca, who cast him an irritated look. “I have no idea how you figured out who I am, but you better make this look good, or you’re going to get me killed. The deal is the same. So unless your boss is willing to meet my terms, this is over with your drink order.”

So she
was
Madame, and she had no idea Marcus had sent him to her as part of a deal. Or so she wanted him to believe. “He is,” Sterling confirmed.