Authors: Lara Nance
“We should anticipate he has people
searching for us,” Sean said.
“Yes, but he doesn’t know we’re on a boat or
even that I own one. This boat is registered to an alias. We must be very careful, though.”
“Won’t Desmond know he’s lost one of his groups?”
“Very likely,” Rolf said.
“
He’ll know we’re coming for him.” Sean looked at his boss.
“Yes.” A feral glint of predatory anticipation surged within Rolf. “He’ll know. But he won’t know when or how.”
Rolf descended the steps from the pilothouse at the same time Cara and Shana opened the door to the salon. Cara froze on the threshold when her eyes met his. He took the last step and could move no further as his gaze traveled down her to the long expanse of leg showing. His heart thudded in his chest. Last night’s daring neckline had nearly done him in and now
this
.
Shana snickered and pushed Cara forward through the door
, passing behind her into the room. She remained where she was, gaze locked on his. It was the most exquisite torture, his heart swelling at the sight of Cara and his brain lashing him with barbed whips for his betrayal of Sakhet.
Reason tugged him in two directions. Allow the bond with Cara to grow, and reap some happiness in this life before she grew old and died, or maintain his loyalty to
Sakhet and hope to join her someday soon in the paradise beyond. He cursed the gods for placing this decision before him.
No man should have to suffer in this manner
.
Cara slid her hands down her thighs and broke their connection. She walked to the closest chair, the short skirt of her dress flaring out to reveal even more of her creamy thighs. He bit his cheek until he tasted blood, and jerked his head away, fighting for composure. They had to focus on the Takers, they had to.
With a deep breath, he turned back. “I need to discuss some planning with the group.”
“I’ll get Amber and Alistair
.” Shana hurried down the steps to the cabins.
“Coffee?”
Rolf asked Cara.
“
Yes, thank you,” she said in a low voice. She crossed her legs and her skirt rode up even higher.
He nodded and
shifted his gaze when he walked to the bar. Sakhet’s face floated before him, smiling, love shining in her eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the counter.
“What’s up?” Amber followed Alistair and Shana into the salon
. Tor and Marc were a few seconds behind.
Rolf relayed the
Charleston plan.
“Why not just take out Desmond first?” Tor
settled beside Amber on the couch.
“Because
you all will be responsible for the action. My men will be unable to participate. They have full energy and the Takers will sense them. It would put us all in danger. It would be best to take on a less powerful group first. As practice.” He met their gazes, unwavering. “But I would like to have my men start participating in your training.”
“Well,
they can probably help us, I guess,” Shana said. Marc shifted in his chair, crossing his arms. She shrugged. “We need practice, right?”
“You’re right,” Tor said. “We’re not ready for Desmond yet.”
“How do we stand on the amulets?” Rolf asked Amber.
“I’ve finished mine and Alistair’s this morning. So, sin
ce you don’t need one, I’m done.” She handed a necklace to Alistair.
The scholar studied it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. “Brilliant, my dear.”
“Excellent
,” Rolf said. “Tomorrow night, we go after the group here. We need to strike before they kill anyone else. Until then, I suggest you continue your training. You’ll need every bit of experience you can pack into the next twenty-four hours.
“
Let’s get with it.” Shana clapped her hands.
Marc
shook his head, but he didn’t leave.
###
Desmond strolled along a street in downtown Norfolk a short distance from his townhouse. Clouds obscured the sun, bestowing a dim, shadowy glaze to the day. Exhilaration shot through him anytime he moved through the city, observing his success first-hand. People passed by him, their faces revealing little, but their minds belonged to him. The sight filled him with a heady flush of satisfaction. Slaves, every one of them, and they didn’t even know it. Now that he controlled the media, he could put whatever thought he wanted in their heads and, in time, they would believe it.
His plans progressed exactly
as anticipated. He had total control of TV, radio and newspapers. If he wanted something, he just manipulated the messages sent to the people and they followed the instructions like programmed robots. Too late for his bribed officials. They never dreamed he wanted anything more than money. Now they belonged to the Net, too, and would not question missing people or any other atrocity he wanted to pursue. Perfect.
The time had come to test another little experiment.
Carlton had put subliminal pictures of Desmond on TV portraying him in different flashes of roles: kind father, trusted friend, desirable lover, etc.
He spotted a
curvy blonde in a form-fitting business suit, carrying a briefcase. As she passed him, he reached out and took her arm.
“Come with me
, my dear,” he said, smiling.
“I, uh
, have to go to work,” she murmured, blinking. “Don’t I know you? You look very familiar.”
“Yes, you know me well. I’m Desmond,” he said and caressed her arm. “Remember?”
“Oh, yes. That’s right. Desmond. Of course.” She blinked again.
“Come along, my dear. I have something important to show you.”
Her steps were small at first, and she glanced back in the direction she had been walking. He stroked her arm, and she looked up in his eyes. A smile trembled on her lips, then broadened. She increased her pace, leaning against him. He led her to the townhouse, the throbbing need to cause pain pounding in his gut.
He’d have a delightful time playing with this little beauty during the afternoon.
His men would discard her body in the morning. And, with his control of the police, her death would be covered up nicely. He chuckled and ran a hand down her spine as he guided her up the stairs to his bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Okay, put this in the sheath on your ankle.” Rolf handed Cara a knife. She took the weapon and hefted it in her hand, testing the balance. The leather handle fit into her palm as though made for it. The silver blade flashed in the dim lighting of the room. She took a deep breath, strapped it in her sheath, and pulled her jeans over it. He glanced at Shana, his forehead wrinkled, and placed a hand on the knob of the salon’s door to the deck.
Cara’s heart sank. Despite their training with his hired soldiers, she could tell
by the look in his eyes that he didn’t think they were ready. Still, ready or not, the time to eliminate the Takers had come. They couldn’t put it off any longer.
The others strapped on knives and
spread across the salon, stretching out in their dark shirts and pants. The intention for tonight was stealth, to get the Takers without making a lot of noise. Guns would draw too much attention,
especially
as they were illegal in Bermuda. Shana, the bait, was every bit the part in a sexy black tank top and black knit pants that hugged her curves. Marc’s eyes continually traveled to her, and he fidgeted with his amulet, flipping it over and over.
“Everybody got their amulets?” Amber asked.
Everyone but Rolf held them up, then tucked them inside the necks of their shirts.
Sean handed
palm-sized radios to Amber and Alistair. They would be in charge of lookout and communications since they were the weaker fighters. Rolf had them test the volume and made sure the sound worked properly.
“Is everyone clear on the plan?” Rolf asked when they finished their preparations.
Cara nodded. She wanted to leave the boat before she started getting nervous. Ten o’clock had just passed, and the island clubs would start cranking into high-gear right about now.
She waited by the door, surprised at the calm determination
that had settled inside her. Maybe panic would come later, especially if they ended up killing the Takers. Her friends murmured to each other, checking gloves, radios and knives. A small smile of admiration curled on her face. They were taking on a dangerous enemy because they knew no one else would do it, and they had made tremendous progress in a very little time.
“
Let’s get going,” Rolf said. “We’ll leave in groups at ten minute intervals and meet at the club. Amber and Tor first.”
Amber glanced at Cara before she left, eyes round
. Cara gave her a smile of encouragement. Her friend took Tor’s hand and walked out the door.
“Now, Cara and
Marc, come with me.” Rolf waved to them. “I don’t want Marc to go in with Shana. The Taker might become suspicious. She and Alistair can leave last.”
“I’m ready.” Cara turned,
gave Shana a thumbs-up, and walked to the door, looking back at Marc who lingered, twisting his gloves in his hands.
“
It’s okay, Marc,” Shana told him. “I’ll be fine. Watch my back, okay?”
He hesitated
then stuffed the gloves in his back pocket and moved past Cara. She closed the door to follow the other two down the dock to grab a taxi. Their steps echoed on the dock and spread over the softly lapping water.
After a fifteen minute ride in the taxi, t
hey arrived at the club and made their way down the narrow concrete steps leading to the entrance. The club was tucked into the basement of a popular restaurant, closed at this hour. Pounding, thumping bass flowed up to meet them before they ever opened the door. Once inside, Rolf and Cara paused. Cara let her eyes adjust to the darkness and spotted Amber and Tor at a table, fifty-feet to their right.
Strings of small white lights looped
about the ceiling were the only illumination in the dim space. Cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, and she had to cough when it initially enveloped her. They wove past bodies swaying to music, and bar-height round tables where people gathered with their drinks. A loud reggae band played at the far end, its dreadlocked members belting out Bob Marley songs in gruff voices.
A dark wood bar with a
thatched roof awning ran along the left wall, and sweaty dancers moved against each other on the dance floor across from it, swaying to the seductive island rhythm. She and Rolf maneuvered through the crowd and found a bar height table to stand beside on the right side of the room. Marc walked across the room to the bar and bought a beer before wandering to a vantage point opposite them.
“Sense anything?” Cara asked Rolf
, leaning on the table.
“Not yet,” he said. “But it’s early. They want to be here when the girls have had time to get drunk and are more likely to go outside with them.”
Gooseflesh puckered Cara’s flesh. “You really do know how they work.”
“
I’ve seen it thousands of times.” He gazed down at her. “Are you okay?”
She glanc
ed away and brushed the hair from her face. “I just forget about your past sometimes. All the killing.”
He
rested his hand on the small of her back, and she faced him.
“Be careful tonight,” he
leaned close and whispered. “I want you safe.”
His breath tickled the hairs on her neck
, and she shivered. “I will if you will.”
“Deal.” He straightened to scan the crowd.
Her stomach flipped. “Shana just
came in. Do you really think she’ll be okay?”
He glanced to
the side as Shana strolled by, swinging her hips to the beat of the music. She headed to the bar and flipped her long braids over a shoulder with one hand. Cara saw more than one set of male eyes follow her movements.
“Oh, yes. I think she can handle herself. She’ll be fine.” Rolf
rested his hand on Cara’s arm, warm and comforting.
Alistair purchased a brandy and walked through to the back of the club near the band. Amber remained stationed at the front
entrance near Tor.
“Everything’
s in place,” Rolf said.
Cara
inched closer, placing a hand on his side. His muscles stiffened beneath her fingers. She glanced at him, thinking he responded to her touch. But he stared forward, jaw clenched.
“He’s here,” he
said through gritted teeth. “I feel him.”
Cara shifted her focus to the door
, and her hand pressed against his back, his strength a comfort.
“Yes,” she said. “I see him.”
A man sauntered by, his eyes shifting about, searching the crowd. A white T-shirt stretched over his skinny chest, and his faded jeans had seen better days. He had long brown hair tied in a pony tail and a diamond stud glittered in one ear lobe.