Wolfsbane (6 page)

“No, no, he doesn’t.” Midas rushed into the fray as he pulled Aladdin back.

“Legend,” Max snapped. Waited for the big guy to acknowledge him.

Finally, brown eyes came to his. Though tamed the storm still raged. “I told you.” Lips tight, nostrils flared, Legend scowled. “He’s trouble. He don’t know how to work with a team. Bravo Team is dead because he wasn’t there to back them up.”

“They’re not dead.” Aladdin wasn’t backing down. He’d worked solo for too long and didn’t know when to yield. “They’re alive because I detected an ambush and intercepted.”

It sure sounded like Aladdin had moved closer. The man had brains, right? He wouldn’t be that stupid, stepping into the cauldron of Legend’s fury.

“This team works
together
.” Legend came forward as if Max didn’t exist. “If you can’t work
with
the team, following protocol, maybe you don’t belong. Know what I’m saying?”

Angling to the side, Max realized he had essentially been sandwiched between the two, who were ready to throw down. “Hey!” He sent a fierce warning through his expression to Aladdin. “Stand down.”

Aladdin’s green eyes flickered to Max. The tension in the man’s face reduced, though not much.

“Look at this, ladies and gents. The assassin knows how to take orders after all.”

Aladdin went rigid. “I just executed four tangos who would’ve split your heart in two. That is, if you have one.”

Air behind him swirled. Images of his friend killing the newest team member flashed through his mind. Max flipped around to Legend.
“No. Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

Hands out to the side, Griffin all but snorted. “I’m good. I’m good.”

Max glanced to Aladdin. From his periphery he saw—but could do nothing to stop—the hammer of a fist sailing into Aladdin’s jaw.
Thud!
Aladdin stumbled back.

Max shoved Legend away. “Stand down!”

Legend took a step back. “I’m good—
better.”
He grinned, then flicked a narrowed gaze to Aladdin. “I nearly killed you, fool. Why Lambert accepted you, why you agreed, I don’t know. What I do know is that the men on this team”—Legend shifted, indicating the other four hanging back—“they’ll put it on the line for you.” With a swagger, he moved backward. “Tell me, Lone Wolf, will you do the same for them?”

“I did—I saved their lives!”

“No.” Max tried to harness his own anger. “You abandoned your team. Who had Midas’s six while you were playing hero?” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re a team. Nightshade. Looking out for each other is number one because without that commitment, we cease to exist.”

“So you don’t care about the six tangos.”

Max walked over to the plastic dummy dangling from a spring-loaded axle. He stuffed a finger through a hole in the head of one, where clearly Aladdin had killed the tango. “This guy?” He patted the dummy’s head. “No, because I knew he’d be there.”

Aladdin grunted his disapproval.

“This exercise was to find out—would you be where we expect and need you to be?” Max let the smirk slip from his face. “Don’t fail the team again. Or you’ll be gone.”

Roark Residence, Virginia
New Year’s Eve

Pain turned her inside out
.

Darkness held her captive. Pushing her down, farther … farther …

Fire shot through her pelvis. She screamed—but no sound came out. Instead, gushes of water poured into her throat. She coughed. Gagged
.

A sickening, sweaty body pressed on her
.

“No!”

Dani bolted upright in bed. Shuddering, she searched the darkened
room for the predator, for the man bent on stealing her virtue. But … it was too late. That was gone. She had nothing left for him, or anyone else.

The massive room closed in on her. Billowing curtains around the four-poster bed danced like ghosts. A ceiling fan circled lazily over the sitting area. Marble shone brightly against the light she’d left on in the bathroom. All taunting her. This had been the room of a spoiled, naive rich girl. A girl now gone. Dead.

Everything in her trembled. She drew her legs to her chest and hugged herself tightly. Would the shame ever go away? Tears stung her eyes. Slipped past her tight hold and scalded her cheeks. A sob erupted.

Outside her door, light scampered and grew brighter as footsteps thudded to the threshold. Was it Alexandra or her father? She thought about the soft, quick steps. Her sister.

She cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle the cries, ignoring the chill seeping into her bones. If Alexandra heard her crying, if she heard her moving around, she’d come in. Try to act like she knew what to say. Comfort her with empty words.

As quietly as possible, Dani lay back against the pillows and drew the covers over her chest. When had it gotten so cold?

Facing away from the door and peering out through the slit in the heavy baroque curtains, Dani spied the moon. Full and brilliant. After two weeks in the hospital, she’d come home. Life blurred past, Christmas a vague memory—what gifts had she given or received?—and here she lay, still wishing she hadn’t survived that tormented water. Back in the States a month, but even now she still didn’t want to be home. Where things were normal. She didn’t want to go on as if nothing happened. Didn’t want to face her friends. Her family. Her niece and nephews. Her father. Anybody.

She watched light invade darkness until it eventually overtook her. Out there, beyond the curtains and small balcony, the world continued as if no tragedy had ever taken place. As if she didn’t matter. She was insignificant. The emptiness of the word mirrored the emptiness within her.

A knock at the door made her blink.

“Danielle, I’m coming in,” Alexandra called, softly but firmly.

Soon came the creak of the heavy oak door, a click of the lock, then soft padding over the wood floor … then stifled steps as Alexandra walked on the handcrafted Persian rug. The lower portion of the bed near Dani’s feet sunk down under the weight of her sister. Warm
pressure rested on her ankle.

What? Was her sister going to once again tell Dani that she knew she was hurting? That while Alexandra had never been …
violated
—her sister was apparently unable to even say the word
rape
—she understood the depression, yet she didn’t want to watch her waste away?

“You might want to get dressed,” Alexandra said, a surprising strength in her words. “Because in five minutes, I’m sending someone up. He dropped by, brought flowers.”

He?
Dani whipped around, disbelief and shock overtaking her empty mood.

Alexandra pushed off the bed, a triumphant expression on her face. “Five minutes. If you don’t want Chief Petty Officer Metcalfe to see you with hair tangled, clothes wrinkled, and bad breath, I’d suggest you clean up.”

Panic beat a wild rhythm in her chest. “No.”

Already at the door, Alexandra didn’t hesitate.

“Alexandra Norah! Don’t—”

The door closed.

Dani darted to it, her head spinning. She braced against the wall, waiting until the hazy darkness faded. She caught her breath—just in time to hear Alexandra speaking in a singsong voice and telling the guest it’d be just a few minutes.

Slapping her hand against the elaborate paper lining the wall, she groaned. Anger morphed into rage. She spun, staring at the bed. If he came up here … he could …

No. She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t stay here with him. If she hurried, she could head this off. Get rid of him before he ever made it to her door.

Fury pushed her to the closet. She stared at the twenty-by-twenty space with its tufted, round bench and chandelier. Row upon row of color-organized clothes hung in obscene order. Cedar drawers. Shoes lined one wall. Gowns another.

Had she really been this spoiled? Why was it just now hitting her? Shirking the annoyance, she tugged a pair of jeans from a drawer. She then stuffed her legs into them, surprised at how they hung off her hips. Six months in captivity did a lot for a girl wanting to lose a few pounds. Nothing a belt wouldn’t fix. She strapped one on and flung on a sweater. In the bathroom, she snatched the brush from the marble vanity, raised it—and froze.

There in the full-length mirror hovered a phantom. A girl she
no longer knew. A girl with shattered dreams and faded bruises who looked like a bad makeup job. A girl who once believed in happily ever after. Who was a bit naive but every bit as stubborn and determined.

Oh, God …

Laughter from somewhere in the house broke into her awareness.

Dani jerked the bristles through her hair and tied back her long brown strands. She hurried to the door, whipped it open—and stood before a man.

Her heart hitched. She gulped the fear, her gaze diving to the floor.
Friend not foe. Friend not foe
. She pushed her gaze back to his.

A slow smile spread over his face, lighting his bluish eyes. He gave a curt nod. “I don’t know if you remember—”

Dani eased past him, then closed the door to her room. “Coast Guard, right?” She tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, trying to forget that he had carried her almost completely naked body to safety.

“Yes, ma’am.” He raked a hand through his short black hair. “I … uh … just wanted to check on you. See how you were improving.”

If she was right, he’d checked on her twice a week, every week. Eight times. “I’m fine.” A sure, tight answer that kept her from having to go into the truth. Or go into anything all. Could she get rid of him? “Look …” She saw the hope in his gaze and lost the gumption. How could she be cruel? He’d rescued her. Kept watch over her.

Didn’t matter. The last thing she wanted in her life was a man. “You can go back to your superiors, tell them I’m fine. You did your job.” She feigned a smile. “You should get a gold star or something.”

His expression fell. She could’ve sworn she heard it thunk against the floor. “I’m sorry.” He glanced down. “I’m not here because of my job.”

Was he blushing? Dani’s nerves jitterbugged over the realization. Being in the narrow hall closed off her throat and brain. She stumbled toward the light at the end of the tunnel … er, hall. The balcony. Chief Petty Officer Metcalfe remained with her, his steps even and steady.

“Some place your dad has.”

Her gaze darted to the paintings that had captured his attention. “Yeah. I guess.” It was called overkill. And she hated it.

Stepping into the brilliance of the sun, Dani was startled at how good it felt. A shudder rippled through her.

“Are you cold? Should we go back inside?”

“No,” she snapped, glancing toward the dark hall—and her mind
plunged into the prison she’d spent so many months being dragged through. Screams. Banging. Sizzling sounds of electrical torture.

Her feet felt like bricks. Her heart careened into her stomach. Hearing hollowed.

A face burst into her vision.

With a yelp, she shoved the man back.
Fight!

He grabbed her arms.

Dani yelled and writhed.

“Miss Roark, please! It’s okay.”

Shock rippled through her at the urgency in the voice and her own name. She stilled and stared back at pleading blue eyes. She wasn’t in the prison. She was at home. He wasn’t here to hurt her. Humiliation crowded out her panic. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Leave. Get away. You’re an idiot
.

“If … excuse me.” She stepped around him and skipped a step back into the house.

“Miss Roark, wait.”

His words sent her running. She dashed into her room and slammed the door shut. Knowing Alexandra would come after her, Dani locked the door, leapt into the bed, and yanked the covers over her head.

Buried, she stemmed her tears. Focused on just being … safe. Alone. Quiet. He must think her an imbecile, going nuts at the sight of a lonely, dark hallway. She just wanted to be normal again. Wanted to get back to work, wanted to have a life. Not feel the stinging sensation of being raped with every step she took.

Minutes later, Alexandra’s frantic voice called from the other side of the door. The handle jiggled. Her sister’s quiet crying eventually faded into the oblivion of sleep that claimed Dani. By the time her eyes fluttered open, the soothing blues of dusk had plowed into the sky. She nudged back the comforter—and stopped short.

“Good evening, Danielle.” Soft lines creased the eyes under white, short-cropped hair.

Instant panic bottomed out, embraced by relief. She pushed herself upright. “General Lambert.” She looked to the door. It sat open. She could run. Evade. Her eyes drifted back to his. Kind. Compassionate. Fatherly. “What’re you doing here?”

A sad smile tweaked the sides of his mouth. “Keeping a promise to an old friend.”

Mom
. The thought pushed her back against the bed.

“But I’m afraid I have bad news, Danielle. Out of respect to
your mother and to you, I chose to deliver the news personally.” His expression faltered in a very subtle way. What was that look? Sadness? Anger?

Braced against the edge of the bed, she waited. What could be so horrible? It wasn’t like he would send her back there. It wasn’t like Bruzon could come and get her. So she waited, believing she could brave whatever he told her.