Chapter 4
Vincent read the note again. 'I know who you are.' Did it mean him? As in beast? How was that even possible? Still reeling from that and seeing the dead guard, a trickle of fear kicked in the adrenalin and he turned, eyes already yellow. Who was out there? The blow knocked him back, although he never felt the bullet until it had already exited his skin on the opposite side. Why do they always shoot me in the gut? he wondered. As the searing pain dropped him to one knee, fear for the child still inside lent him extra strength. Too little, too late. As he got to his feet, someone hit him in the back of the head. Catherine . . . It was his last conscious thought.
"Why did you do that?!"
Louis's armed bodyguard stumbled for an answer as he and his pilot rushed forward to the porch of the shack where the stranger lay crumpled to the floor. "Y-you saw him! Something was happening! He was changing!"
"Exactly! And I wanted to see it. Now the opportunity is gone!"
"W-what do we do now?" one asked, less enthusiastic about approaching the injured 'man' as Louis was.
"Help me get him into the cage! Quickly! I don't know how long he'll be out."
The pilot looked at him askance. "What about the girl?"
"Better her than us! We can't let her go just yet. The situation's changed, and now I have to come up with a different plan. Just help me get him in there."
They carried the wounded soldier into the shack, unlocked the cage and dropped him onto the empty cot. The little girl huddled in the other corner.
At least she wasn't a screamer, Louis thought. Not like her mother had been. God, he was glad to be rid of that one. He hated whiny, squealy women even more. After he'd obtained the deed, his plan had been to simply free the child and appear to be the hero of the story, but after realizing who it was Jason called for help, he knew he had to rethink things. The man was Reynolds' super-soldier, he was sure of it. That face. It gave Louis a thrill just remembering those eyes. His bodyguard getting trigger happy had not been part of the plan, but it bought him some time.
Gabe sighed as he entered the metal security doors at the prison. He didn't like going to Reynolds for help, even though he'd proven useful on more than one occasion. But this time he needed answers.
"What do you know about Louis Dauphinais?" he asked without preamble.
Bob Reynolds, man of myth and nightmare, sat neatly attired in his prison orange while writing at the desk. He looked up immediately at the name. "Why?"
"So you do know him?"
"I know him."
Good. At least he wasn't denying it, Gabe thought. "We think he's involved in a kidnapping case in Miami."
Bob turned back to his papers, disinterested. "So what if he is? That's nothing to me."
"Catherine and Vincent went down there to help. We're just trying to figure out what they're up against."
The metal chair scraped on the concrete floor as Bob jumped to his feet. "They hell they did!"
A clue. Gabe eyed him dispassionately, trying not to give away his own anxiety. One didn't get far with Reynolds if you showed any fear. You had to reel him in slowly. The man still had too many tricks up his sleeve.
"What's the problem? She's just helping out a friend. Is there danger? Just who is Dauphinais to you?"
Bob rubbed a hand over his face, and Gabe could tell he was trying to decide just what he could afford to say. Gabe decided to play the only hand that always worked. "Catherine may be in danger—"
"She already is, dammit! Get her—them—back here right away!"
Gabe grabbed him by the collar. "Tell me everything or you're going to be rotting away in here for the rest of your life."
Disgust spread across Reynolds' face. He easily pushed him away. "Like I'm not already. Okay, tough guy, listen up. I'm only going to say this once. Dauphinais was my deep pocket—"
"So Tori was right. You did have an overseas partner. What exactly does he know?"
Bob sat down heavily on the bed. "Enough to be dangerous."
"About beasts?"
"Everything. He knows everything, dammit. Yes, about beasts, Muirfield—the whole nine yards. Are you happy, now? The man's insane, but he suited our purposes and was a willing source of funds."
"And he knows who Catherine is to you?"
"He found out. He knows about her, about Vanessa, the experiments. And Condor. Especially Vincent. Louis is quite the researcher."
"Great. That's how he found the information on the privateer."
Bob looked up. "You mean he finally found it? He's been looking for that wreck for years."
"This kidnapping appears to be part of a plot to get the piece of coastline the wreck supposedly beached itself on hundreds of years ago. Apparently, a local historian in Florida recently identified it."
"Look. Louis only knew Vincent as Condor, but if he recognizes Catherine, he might well put two-and-two together, and you don't want that to happen. I didn't have Louis under the tightest control—"
"What a surprise."
"—but he should have learned that Muirfield is gone by now. I thought he'd turn his eyes to other interests. I even threw him a bone or two to get him off the trail."
"How magnanimous of you. To no avail, apparently."
Bob wagged a finger at him. "Just get my daughter away from him. Now. And Vincent. As much as I'd like to see him made into mincemeat, you don't want Louis to get a piece of him. Understand?"
Meaning, his DNA. Or worse. Gabe was on his cell before he even reached the door.
"Double it. We don't know what his strength is, but one chain isn't going to be enough."
The man doing Louis's bidding raised an eyebrow at that, but did what he was told, shaking hands and all. His boss didn't accept anything but swift obedience. He'd seen more than one man taken down on the spot for moving too slow or stopping to question. He didn't intend to be his next victim. That a human, whatever kind he was, could get himself out of the heavy chain was a little beyond imagining, but he'd seen something dangerous in the man's eyes, and he wasn't about to take any chances.
Once the deed was done, Louis seemed satisfied.
"You stay here with them. I've got to get back to the house."
The guard nodded, but surprise was evident on his face.
"A new plan. I need to make preparations." Not that he had to explain himself to this grunt, although the man looked sharper than many of the thugs in his employ. Money talked. That was the only language they understood. "See that they are both here and breathing when I return and there's a bonus in it for you. If not, you might as well use that gun on yourself."
Point made. With that, he ran back to the helicopter and his waiting pilot.
Catherine wiped the sweat off her forehead and paused again. A bead of moisture ran down between her breasts, both tickling and making her more miserable. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A bad sign. Holding the phone out, she was checking the compass app to determine if she was still headed in the right direction when something screeched in the trees next to her and she nearly jumped a foot off the ground. She dropped the phone and had to search for it in the dark. Thankfully, the face emitted a blue-ish light and she found it quickly in the tall grass.
Finding her way back to the car on her own with Kendra had been relatively easy earlier, but for some reason now she was doubting herself. Was that the same stand of cypress trees she'd passed before? The moon was only a crescent, but its light was a comforting presence. If only it would lead her to Vincent. She looked at her phone again—no bars.
"Vincent, where are you?"
"He's bleeding."
The little girl's voice was soft but sounded somewhat defiant to him, the guard thought, as he checked the cage lock again.
"Not my problem," he answered, hoping to shut her up, but he looked at the wound again before dismissing it. Flesh wounds were notoriously messy, but one hardly ever died from them. He should know. He'd been in Afghanistan. His patch job wasn't professional, but it would do. The kid had probably never seen anything like it. Thankfully Erik, the pilot, had had the presence of mind to slam the butt of his gun across the guy's temple and that had kept him out for a while, but not for much longer, he'd bet. And he was a betting man.
Why this guy was so valuable and required extra measures, he didn't know, nor did he want to. He'd seen some pretty tough guys in the field. He checked the cage lock for the fiftieth time, gave the girl a look of disdain and went to take a smoke outside. He had to shove the lifeless body of the other guard aside to clear the seat. Again, not his problem.
Vincent woke to pain in his side and pain in his head. Pushing himself upright, he struggled against the weight of heavy chains binding his wrists and ankles together. A throbbing sting hurt near the same area as the gunshot wound Catherine had inflicted, and he looked down to find something cotton knit stuffed next to the painful area, its white fibers red with blood. Damn, that hurt. He could tell it was closer to the surface and had not penetrated anything but muscle, but that didn't make it any less painful. He twisted again and started to swear, when he found two big eyes studying him. "Da—gnabbit!" Arielle.
"I told him you were still bleeding, but he didn't care," said a small female voice.
He looked down at the garment again.
"That's my sweater."
"I'm sorry," he said automatically. It was ruined now.
"It's okay. I never liked it anyway."
He pushed himself up and examined his wound more carefully, as well as he could with his hands tied together. This time he made a conscious effort not to grunt and alarm her even more than she probably already was.
"Looks like it has stopped now."
"Are you really Catherine's friend?" she asked, a twist of blonde hair in her mouth.
He looked at the closed door. The guard smoking outside would not be able to hear their voices if they kept them down. He nodded. "My name is Vincent. And you're Arielle?"
She nodded, understanding the need for whispers. "Is Catherine here?"
"Yep. She's at your grandpa's house right now with your mom." At least, he hoped she was. Safe and sound.
At the mention of the girl's mother, she teared up, just a little.
"She's safe, Arielle. And you will be, too."
"Are you here to rescue me?"
He looked down at his chains and the bloody garment again and smiled ruefully. "Some rescue, huh?"
"It's okay," she said, bravely.
"Don't worry. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
She looked at his sleeve and he smiled.
"How long have I been out?"
"Um. Not too long. Maybe, like, half an hour, I think?" She looked at her watch in the dim light. It was pink plastic with Disney's smiling Belle on the front.
He smiled again. Smart girl, and not panicked, like he'd expect. He remembered how much Catherine had liked her when they met last December. If things had gone the way he expected, and she'd chosen Jason over him, the child might have become her step-daughter. He swallowed at the thought. Catherine, a mother. What an awesome mom she'd be. And wife. It probably wasn't in the cards for them-either idea, and that made him sad. The pain in his side mirrored the pain in his heart and brought his focus back to the present—and the very dangerous situation they were in. Whoever wrote that note and chained him up knew his secret. And that changed everything.
The chains he could deal with, but what about Arielle?
"I'm going to get you out of here, don't worry."
The child looked somewhat doubtful, glancing again at his bindings, but she nodded.
"You like Disney?"
"Sure. I've seen all the movies."
Beauty and the Beast obviously being one of them. No, that analogy wasn't the best. "Uh, how about superhero movies? You watch any of those?"
"You mean, like, Spider-man?"
"Like the Avengers."
"Sure. My daddy lets me see all of those. I've seen Thor one and two, all three Iron Man ones, I'm waiting for the new Captain America—"
"You know about the Hulk, then?" A better comparison.
"Hogan or the big green one?"
Vincent grimaced. Kids knew more today than he realized. "Uh, the big green one."
"Bruce Banner!"
He hadn't been able to recall the name. "Yes. Yes, that's the one. Well, Arielle, you see . . . I'm kind of like him."
Again, those big wide eyes. "You are?"
"I-I mean, I don't get big and green, but—"
"You get really strong, like a superhero?"
Her expression said she didn't believe it, and he hated the term, but it was the only way to explain it to a kid. The whole 'a-military-experiment-changed-my-DNA' story was a little too complicated for the situation, and he didn't have the time. What she was about to see she needed to understand in a way she could accept. And not be afraid.
"Arielle. I have a very big secret. If I show it to you, you can't tell anyone about it, even your mom and dad. Do you understand? No one can know."
Her eyes got big again.
"I can break through these chains, but I need to . . . kind of morph—do you understand morph?"
She nodded her head. "I think so."
"—I need to morph-out to do it. My face changes and I can get a little scary looking, but I won't hurt you, I promise."
"You turn into a monster?"
The simplicity and innocence of a child. "Sort of. J-just temporarily. You understand? I need to do that just to break these chains and get us out of here."
"The bad guy has a gun."
A very practical child. "I can deal with that. But here's what I need you to do."
As quickly as he could, he explained what was going to happen. She was to go into the farthest corner of the cell, cover her ears and close her eyes, and stay there-when he gave the word. He had two obstacles—first the chains, then the locked cage door. And he needed to be fast.
"Whatever you do, stay put until I tell you, okay?"
"Okay."
She kept staring at him.
"Promise?"
"Promise. Pinky swear."
"What?"
Arielle held up her little finger and he remembered something his nephew used to do. He held out his pinky, too, and she curled her finger around his. "Pinky swear."
She went to the corner and crouched down.
"On the count of three—"
Jason Hunter paced in his room. Thank God Kendra had finally fallen asleep, but that wasn't something he had any intention of doing. His little girl was still out there. And now Catherine. He'd heard the car leave a short time ago, even though he'd warned her off. If Kendra hadn't insisted on him holding her hand until she drifted off, he would have left sooner. All he needed was to have his daughter and another woman he cared about caught up in this trap.
He grabbed everything he could possibly need and headed after them.
"Put it down! Now!"
"Sir?" The pilot questioned over the intercom.
"In that field. I need to get out!"
Although the sedan was parked near the tree line, Louis easily spotted it as they flew over the site where they'd left Kendra's car days before. Someone had returned to the scene and was no doubt on the search for the shack and the kid. The car had been in the mansion drive earlier, so he knew it had already been found. The only question was, who had driven it out there tonight?
He'd already captured Catherine's 'friend'—the man he only knew as Condor—Bob Reynolds' personal killing machine. Jason wasn't likely to have driven there in his wife's car when he had his RV at the house. And Richard had 'people' to do everything for him. That only left Catherine. He smiled. This might work out better than he'd planned. As the pilot put the chopper on the ground, he pulled out his gun. She was a cop, after all, and Bob had spoken quite highly of her. He wouldn't take any chances.
"Three!" As Arielle ducked her head, Vincent surged up and through the chains. As soon as his hands were loose, he used them to free his legs. He was about to speed to the door when he glanced over to find Arielle watching him. At least she wasn't screaming. He didn't have time for another thought. He busted through the rusty lock on the cage and shot through the door to the guard.
It was over in seconds. Once he was able to ascertain that there was only one guard, he relaxed and brought his body down from its beast rage. Arielle.
He bound the now-unconscious guard with the broken chains, tossed his gun into the woods, and returned inside the cabin with his hands in the air.
"It's okay, Arielle. It's all over. I promise."
"You're still bleeding."
He looked down, the sloppy patch-up job they'd done on him was indeed bleeding through, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It hurt like the dickens, but the shot had hit no vital organs and he could make it back to safety and help before he lost too much blood. He stripped off his outer shirt and tied it around his waist as tightly as he could. It would have to do.
"If you're not afraid of me, what do you think about me giving you a piggy-back ride back to your mom and dad?"
He face lit up. Unbelievably, the child reached for him.
Catherine stopped once more to get her bearings. She was close to the area they'd found Kendra, she was sure of it. Now it was just a matter of keeping on the same path until she ran into Vincent. She hoped. With any luck, he wasn't much further ahead.
She heard a twig break to her left. She was talking herself through a list of logical reasons for that—a bird, a small animal—and down from her panic when she heard the very distinctive cock of a gun at her temple. That, she knew.
"Very good. Remain calm and all will be well. I've been looking for you. You made better time than I would have thought."
"Let me guess. Louis Dauphinais."
"But of course."
"I thought I heard a helicopter overhead."
"I pride myself in having the quietest one around. Put the gun down and kick it away."
She did as she was told, her back still to her assailant.
"Now," he grabbed her from behind, the barrel of the gun still to her head, "we're going to continue walking, just like this, until we reach the cabin."
So perhaps they didn't have that far to go, after all. And Vincent should be there. "So what was your plan? Blackmail Richard into giving you the land, then release the little girl? McGuire doesn't strike me as someone who forgets a wrong done to him."
"I see you've done your research. Yes, that was the original plan. Now things have changed."
That chill again. "How so?"
"Oh, I think you might have an idea about that, too, hmm? Only a very special sort of person could have tracked us through these everglades so quickly. Tell me, what else can he do?"
Catherine felt fear like a punch in the gut. Louis knew about Vincent! But what did that mean? "Are you taking me to him?" Hopefully, a very much alive and breathing Vincent . . . .
"I need more leverage than I originally thought. You make the perfect trade."
A movement in the trees ahead. Moonlight glinted off shiny blonde hair as Vincent and Arielle emerged from the brush. Even at that distance, their eyes met. He was free! She automatically sucked in a breath, catching Louis off guard. It was all the distraction she needed. Elbowing him sharply with one arm, she ducked simultaneously away from the gun just as he fired. The bullet hit the dirt at her feet. She used her forward momentum to swing around and send a lethal, booted foot toward his windpipe.
She missed. The wiry guy was faster than she expected. Catherine dropped to the ground, but he caught her hair and dragged her back to him.
"Move and she's dead!" Louis screamed as Vincent froze.
Vincent placed Arielle on the ground behind him as he watched the struggle. Louis was panting and obviously winded, but still in control.
He was too far away to speed over to them and gain the upper hand, but Catherine wasn't helpless. They just had to coordinate.
"It's me you want," Vincent shouted, his hands raised in surrender. "Let the women go. There's no need for anyone to get hurt."
"If only it were so simple . . . Condor." Louis laughed, a trickle of blood and sweat dripping from one corner of his mouth. "It's funny, you know. All this effort, wasted. When the bigger prize came right to my door. Now, it's just a matter of what you'll do in exchange for this one."
"Anything," he said immediately. Anything for Catherine. Even his life. He knew that with a certainty in his deepest parts. He'd do anything to ensure she was safe. "Spare her and the girl and I'm yours. I won't fight. I swear." Vincent was about to take another slow step forward when he heard Arielle gasp behind him.
"Daddy!" she screamed as lightning cracked overhead, bathing the entire scene in a macabre and frightening flash.
Everyone turned, Louis with his shaking finger still on the trigger. A single shot ran out and pandemonium spread.
Catherine dropped to her knees as blood pooled down her shoulder. The weight of the man pushed her down. And then Vincent was there, and Jason and Arielle.
"Catherine!"
"It's not my blood!" she immediately shouted back, realizing what everyone thought, especially Vincent. The look on his face terrified her.
"Thank God!" Jason pulled Louis off of her just as Vincent reached the three of them.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," Catherine reassured Vincent, knowing he was that close to losing it and beasting out in front of Jason and Arielle. Jason had fired the shot, and although it had been effective, she could see Vincent gritting his teeth in anger. She placed a hand on his face as Jason ran to his daughter.
"That was a dangerous shot to take!"
"But he didn't miss," she reminded him. "You're hurt!" He was covered in blood, too. Had his wound re-opened?
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
"That doesn't look fine!"
"Catherine."
Jason returned with his daughter. "Come on, we have to get out of here. Rain's coming and I don't know where his pilot is," he urged. "Can you run?" he asked Vincent, eyeing the bloody wrap around Vincent's side.
Vincent wrapped an arm around Catherine in grim determination. "I can run."
"There. Now doesn't that feel better? I know I do."
"All those neat, little stitches. I couldn't have done better myself."
"That's right, you couldn't, and thankfully, this time you didn't have to. You were hurt in the line of duty—there's nothing to hide about. I'm glad Richard insisted on bringing someone in. You're a stubborn man, you know that?"
"You should have seen her covertly studying my other scar. She didn't ask any questions, but I could tell she wanted to. Her eyes were roaming."
"If her eyes were roaming, it was because you were shirtless. You would turn any woman's head, even a grandmotherly type like that."
He shrugged, thankful to be out of the light and intense scrutiny he was so unused to. The pain meds were working their magic and it was becoming easier to move without flinching. "I'm just sad that this means we can't take advantage of the McGuire's pool tonight. I was really looking forward to another 'date night' like we had at the hotel in New York."
"Uh-uh. You're not getting that wound wet. You'll have to be content lying on the beach tomorrow and just sunbathing in front of the ocean. Doctor's orders."
"Doctor didn't say I couldn't engage in other, less strenuous activities." He pulled her down onto the chair with him.
"Not that, either."
"C'mon. I'm fine. We don't have to be energetic."
"Forget it, Mister. 'Energetic' doesn't even begin to describe—oh, God." Her thoughts flew from her mind as he slid his lips down her neck and those soft bristly whiskers of his set her body aflame.
"What was that?" he murmured, his dark chuckle hot against her skin.
"Condo. Tomorrow. One day. Then we have to get home. And you're trying to distract me."
"And it's working. Tomorrow's so far away."
"What about your side? Are you sure you're okay?"
"It's just a flesh wound. Believe me, that's not going to stop me. I'm perfectly capable."
"You're extremely 'capable,'" she laughed, terribly distracted by his roaming hands, "but kiss me like that again, and we're not even going to make it to the bed."
Vincent groaned loudly. Catherine immediately covered his mouth. "Shhhh!"
"What is it? Why are we" his voice grew very soft, "whispering? Because I plan on making some noise tonight—"
"The walls have ears!"
He looked up at the large, quality room, no doubt built with the thickest of walls, and frowned. "Oh, you mean because we're in your old boyfriend's house? Maybe he'll just think it's because of my injury."
"Not by the particular noises you're talking about!"
"Am I that bad?"
"You can't help yourself."
"You got that right."
She sat up straighter. "Okay, one, Jason is not my 'old boyfriend'. He was never my boyfriend, just a guy I dated. And two, this isn't his house!"
"Catherine, I don't know if you noticed, but I think he just dumped you for his ex-wife again. The way he was looking at Kendra make me think there's a 'family reunion' coming in the near future. They looked pretty cozy. Me thinks Kendra and Jason are probably making some of their own noise right about now."
"Hush! And he can't dump someone who isn't his girlfriend," she whispered frantically. "And Arielle's room is just down the hall, too."
"So?"
"So! What if she hears us and wanders down here to . . . investigate?"
"Investigate. I like that word. I need to do some of my own investigating . . ." he said, trying to get under her thin, sleeveless Tee.
She shied away, but it was a losing battle. "You are incorrigible."
"No. I'm desperate. For you."
"Once a bad boy . . ."
"Yeah. And you like it."
"I do. Just not . . . here."
That got his attention. Vincent lifted his head and looked at her. "Then let's go."
"What? Where?"
In one swift move, he pulled her to her feet and dragged her, barefoot, toward the door. In seconds they were down the hall and out the doorway to the garden path to the beach.
"Outside. I know of a nice, very private beach where we can make all the noise we want."
"Out here? Out . . . side?"
"No walls. No ears—"
Catherine frantically scanned around for some other excuse as a tiny thrill niggled its way up her insides. "Just skies full of satellites and . . . drones."
He smiled back at her. "Nice try. I'm sure they aren't looking for lovers on a beach."
"That you know of."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now you're making excuses. I'm surprised at you, Catherine. I thought you were braver than that."
"I am . . . pretty brave."
"You are. And you've been parading around in those skimpy little outfits all week—"
"That's because it's been 85 degrees here!"
"—tempting me, and I can't take it anymore. Injured or not, I'm in desperate need of some good hot lovin'. I'm wounded. Pamper me."
"Okay. But outside?"
"Don't you know what it feels like to have a sweet ocean breeze cool you down after—" He finished the sentence with a hot kiss that began at her neck and started traveling down, down, down.
"All right, you've made your point," Catherine said, when she could breathe again, flushed to her tiptoes.
He looked at her face. She was uncomfortable but still willing, just because he asked. He loved that about her. "Tell you what. Because you are being uncharacteristically prudish, how about this?" They rounded the corner to find an airy, curtain cabana that faced the water, its gauzy drapes, thin but opaque, swaying gently in the breeze.
It was as good as she was going to get. "Works for me."
He pulled her down on top of him. "We're good, right?"
It took her a second to realize what he was asking. Was it a safe time of the month? "Y-yeah, sure. We're good."
Sometime between kisses and more kisses, she tried to do the math, but eventually gave up. She was long past caring . . . .
