10
B
reck sat staring at his palmtop for a long time after Tam messaged him. He was supposed to call the police and involve them in this mess. He was supposed to stand aside while they rescued Sophie; then he'd use his money to get her out of the system and ship her to the middle of nowhere with some missionaries who'd raise her to be “good.” He knew the plan, knew his role in it, and how that role would cut him out of Tam's and Sophie's lives forever.
But even if Tam managed to survive Stefan and avoid becoming a suspect in the Queen's Jewels theft, calling the police now meant they'd be investigating Sophie's family and why she was being held by two wanted criminals. A chat with the Royale's staff would implicate Tam, and they'd dig into her past. Which meant she was going to end up getting arrested, one way or the other.
Fuck. He hated this. He couldn't save her from herself. He knew that. Deus, how he knew that. But making this call now really would screw her over. Even if she didn't want to keep him in her life, and even if she wanted to cut ties with her sister, he couldn't bring himself to do something that might hurt her.
But how else could he get the little girl away from two men who made their living as hired guns? He'd need help. Tam wanted him to call the police to get that help, but there was someone else he could call. He tapped the code into his palmtop and waited for it to connect. Please, let the man be in the mood to chat.
Hunter's face filled the screen, tanned except for the thin white scar that ran down one side. “Breck.”
“Avery.” Breck nodded a greeting. “When you got here, you asked if I needed help. Is that offer still good?”
The other man blinked. “Yes.”
“Good.” Breck let a breath ease out. This was probably among the most reckless ideas he'd ever had, and that was saying something. “It'll be dangerous.”
A small smile touched Hunter's lips. “I'll wear my nanoarmor vest.”
“You have it with you?” Really? Breck's eyebrow rose, and he couldn't stop his answering smile.
Hunter shrugged. “I bring it any time Delilah's working. She's needed a hand a few times, and her work carries certain risk.”
There was a thought. The feisty lynx-shifter would definitely be an asset. She was ferocious and occasionally unpredictable. “I wouldn't mind Delilah's help, too. I've heard she can handle herself in a fight.”
A chuckle spilled out of Hunter. “She can, but she's out right now. You just get me.”
“That'll do. Thank you.”
What the hell was he doing?
He was out of his mind. Certifiable.
Ten minutes later, he perched on the edge of his balcony in his eagle form, and Hunter clutched the railing beside him in his hawk form. They had to take advantage of the only real advantages they hadâthe element of surprise and the fact that they could fly. If Nichols and Leland stuck to their usual schedule, Nichols would walk out onto the main balcony of Stefan's suite in the next few minutes to smoke. Easy pickings for a diving bird of prey.
Breck launched himself upward, then circled back to pick up a bag of clothing that he'd left on his balcony. He'd figured they might scare the shit out of Sophie if two large, stark ass naked men showed up to rescue her. Hunter followed suit, only his bag included his nanoarmor vest, which he'd use as a weapon to drop on Nichols's head. They winged through the night, silent and watchful.
There.
Nichols stepped outside, his cigartine a red spot of light in the darkness. Hunter swooped forward, and the hawk let his bag fall. It slammed into Nichols's shoulder and he cried out as he fell to his knees. Shit. Breck had been hoping for a knockout, but that shout was going to bring Leland running.
Tucking his wings in for a straight dive, Breck shifted just before he hit the balcony floor. His bag rolled away, and he swung his fist at Nichols's face. The man snarled, his eyes glowing yellow in the dark. His nose crunched under Breck's fist, but he jabbed his fingers upward into Breck's ribs. There was desperate power in that hit, and all the breath whooshed out of Breck's lungs. He stumbled back, and Nichols came after him, growling like the dingo that he was. Wild and vicious.
Fuck.
A shrieking cry rent the air as Hunter dove down, his talons aimed straight for Nichols's face. The dingo-shifter ducked, and the hawk raked his claws down the man's arm. Breck took the opportunity to jump Nichols, and the two of them tumbled across the balcony to hit the railing. Pain shot straight to Breck's skull when his back hit the hard metal. The dingo tried to punch him, and Breck blocked it. Nichols shoved them into a roll, trying to get another hit in.
“Shit.”
That was from Hunter, and when Breck and Nichols rolled again, he saw Leland tangling with the hawk-shifter. He'd managed to get his nanoarmor on, and he seemed to be holding his own in the fight, but that was all the attention Breck could pay the other men.
Shoving the dingo-shifter backward, Breck staggered to his feet. Sweat slid down his face to burn his eyes, and adrenaline burned through his veins. Talons sprang from his fingertips, and he sliced at the dingo-shifter when he came at him, catching him across the chest. Blood splattered the ground, and Breck took another swipe. Nichols ducked in close and landed another punch, slamming his fist right into the same ribs he'd struck before. Breck gagged, pain darkening his vision, and it was all he could do to remain conscious. So he let himself go limp, and Nichols stumbled under the sudden deadweight. Before he went all the way down, Breck powered upward with his legs, swung his elbow around, and used the momentum to drive it into Nichols's face.
The dingo-shifter went down, finally. Breck bent forward and braced his hands on his knees, sucking in breaths. It felt as if a white-hot brand had been pressed against his ribs, and the pain radiated up his side. He gingerly pressed a hand to them and winced. Bruised, but not broken. He'd broken a rib before and it had been worse than this.
This was bad enough.
Grunts and the sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the air, and Breck straightened to see Leland slam his foot into Hunter's knee. Hunter's leg crumpled under him, and he rolled with the fall. Leland spun toward Breck, razored shark's teeth bared. Dangerous if he tried to bite, but they both knew he wouldn't be shifting. Not if he wanted to breathe. He came at Breck, but Breck dropped down, shooting a foot out to kick. Leland jumped back, and Breck only grazed his calf. Not enough to do real damage. Damn it. They stood, circling each other to look for an opening to strike.
Breck's breath came in ragged pants, but he watched Hunter weave to his feet behind Leland. “Hey, fuckwit.”
Leland spun to face the new threat. Hunter lifted his hand and the shark-shifter dropped.
“You didn't even touch him.” Breck felt his jaw sag in shock. “What the hell?”
Holding up a small canister, Hunter shrugged. “It's Delilah's trademark. I had some in my bag. A little spray of this stuff and a guy is out cold with nothing but a headache to remember her by.”
“Nice.” Breck found his bag and pulled on a pair of pants. “Let's get Sophie and get out of here.”
He led the way into the suite, heading straight for the child's room. Hunter hobbled after him, favoring the knee Leland had hit.
“Sophie?” Breck called when he didn't see her. Was she hiding somewhere? His blood ran cold. Had they already done something terrible to the girl? Were they too late? “Sophie!”
“Get me out of here!” A muffled little voice shouted, and it sounded like fists pounded against wood.
“There,” Hunter said, nodding toward a closet.
Breck was across the room in three strides. He disengaged the lock and jerked the door open. Sophie tumbled out into his arms. “Breck! Where are the bad men?”
“We knocked them out on the balcony.” He quickly checked the girl for injuries and found none.
Sophie pulled away and ran to see the scene on the balcony. “How long will they be that way?”
“Not very long. We need to go.” Breck held out a hand for her to take, but she trotted past him.
She returned a moment later and handed him two long pieces of black cloth. “The belts from Father's robes. Microsilk makes very tight knots.”
Hunter snorted in amusement, leaning against a wall for support. “Nice.”
“We should put them in the closet in my bedroom.” Her little mouth set in a firm line. “See if they like being locked in there.”
Sounded like a decent plan to Breck. “Then that's where they're going.”
“I'll help you tie them up.”
He shook his head, but quickly trussed up the other men, tying the knots far tighter than he should. If they woke up, they'd have a hard time shifting in the tight space, and Breck was going to make them as uncomfortable as possible in the meantime. Any little thing that might slow them down once they came to.
Hunter stood out of the way as Breck hoisted the men over his shoulder one at a time and carted them into Sophie's bedroom to dump in the closet.
“Wait! I just thought of something.” Sophie grabbed his hand, desperation in her grip. “
You
know where Tam went tonight, don't you?”
“Of course.” How could he forget?
“Good!” Her eyes lit with relief and hope. “You can go save
her
now. They put me in the closet when I got mad because they were talking about the bad things Father was going to do to Tam tonight. You have to go save her.” Tears brightened her eyes and her small hand clutched his. “
Please,
Breck. He's not a nice man. He'll
do
those bad things they said.”
How could he explain to a ten-year-old that her sister didn't want to be saved? That her sister intended to dump her on some good little missionaries at the earliest opportunity? There was no kind way to deliver that message. He might have to anyway, but not now. Besides, could he really live with himself if he let Stefan get his hands on Tam? No. She might have a death wish, but Breck would be damned if he'd let the weasel win.
“My mate is with Tam.” Hunter's words jarred Breck back to reality.
“What?”
“She left just before you called. Something about stealing the real jewels instead of the fakes. I'm going after her.” He turned toward the door, stumbling as his injured leg tried to buckle underneath him.
“No, you're injured. I'll go.” Breck transferred Sophie's hand into Hunter's. “Take Sophie somewhere else. I don't care where. Any other hotel in the city, just not here, then call a medic to see to your leg.”
The man's face had gone pale. “If anything happens to Delilah . . .”
“Nothing will, I promise. I have to go now.” He shifted to eagle form, flew out the balcony doors and up to his penthouse. Another quick shift and he'd stuffed his tux and shoes into a bag and winged his way out again. Toward Surrey. And Tam. And Stefan.
What would have taken almost forty-five minutes in London traffic took him less than twenty flying. He landed on the Abernathy grounds, changed into his tux, and tried to appear calm and composed when he entered the manor.
No more than three steps into the ballroom, Stefan was at his side, hissing in his ear. “You're late, loverboy, which tells me you're up to something.”
Breck cast the older man a disdainful glance. “I had a meeting. I
do
have business to attend to outside of playing your lackey, and that business has been sorely neglected while I chased after Tam.”
“You're lying,” Stefan replied, his voice silken and chilly at the same time. “Now, Constantine, my men haven't answered my calls, which tells me something is wrong. You did something to them.”
A shiver of danger went up Breck's spine, but he held that chilling gaze and continued to lie. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
The weasel-shifter jabbed a gun into Breck's ribs, right where Nichols had nailed him. He winced, hunching forward a bit, beads of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“No idea, huh?” Stefan's smile turned smug. “Business meetings don't usually leave wounds.”
The lights overhead flickered for just a moment, then went completely black for thirty full seconds before they flared back to life. Stefan grabbed Breck's arm, keeping his gun pressed to Breck's side. There were a few exclamations from around the ballroom, but the musicians quickly resumed playing and the party was back under way.
“What was that?” Stefan snapped. He ground his weapon into Breck's injured ribs with bruising force, and it was all he could do not to vomit.
“I don't know.” Sweat slipped down Breck's face, and his limbs began to shake. He fisted his hands and rode out the agony, refusing to give the older man the satisfaction of making him cry out.