You Are Mine (12 page)

He bent, jerked Bryson up onto his feet again then moved his thumb, black leather against the flushed skin of Bryson's throat. All it would take was a certain amount of pressure, right there.

He'd done it before and no doubt he'd do it again.

“Let me go,” Bryson hissed, his voice scraped raw.

Zac studied the man's red face and watering eyes, not moving a muscle. Anger was a caged beast inside him but he kept it under tight control. “Tell me what you did to her.”

“I already gave you that name!” Bryson struggled. Futilely. “You said you'd let me go!”

“Answer the question.” Oh, he could let this piece of shit go certainly. But he needed information. He wanted to know exactly what had happened to Eva in that house. Who had hurt her. What they'd done to her and how.

And once he knew, he'd take them apart. Piece by piece.

“I didn't do a fucking thing,” Bryson panted.

“Liar.” Zac applied a little pressure. “Tell me the truth.”

The other man made choking sound, his face flushing an even deeper red.

Zac had never killed unnecessarily or in the heat of anger. But the beast was rattling the bars of its cage. It wouldn't mind killing this man, not in the slightest. Because it wasn't only Eva who'd suffered, but Alex. This was the man who'd guarded the door while Conrad raped him.

Better not kill him. Not when you need information. Besides, Eva probably won't like it.

Well, that was certainly true. Eva knew his background, but he'd never allowed the dragon out while she was around. At least, he never had before. Though perhaps it was a good thing she knew what he was capable of. It would be one of the many things they'd need to discuss.

Bryson made another grab at the hand that was choking him, pulling at Zac's fingers. Unfortunately he wasn't strong enough to loosen Zac's hold.

“Come now,” Zac said softly. “I haven't got all day, Mr. Bryson. I suggest you tell me before I lose my patience.” He took his thumb away, allowing the man some breathing room to speak.

Bryson's face was brick red, sweat beading his greasy forehead. “Why the fuck should I tell you?” he gasped. “I'm a dead man either way.”

Zac considered him for a long second. He didn't want to have to make any kind of concessions for this bastard, yet information was important. Certainly more important than his anger or the need for revenge. “I can make certain … arrangements,” he conceded. “In return for every bit of information you have.”

The man's bulging blue eyes were wary. “What arrangements?”

“I can help you disappear. If that's what you want.”

Bryson's Adam's apple bobbed. “How do I know you'll keep your word?”

“I'm a gentleman, Mr. Bryson. I always keep my word. Even to bastards like you.” He allowed his fingers to close just a little, adding more pressure. “But I'm tired of this conversation. You have ten seconds to decide.”

“All right, all right!” The man's chest heaved. “I don't know much, but I'll tell you what I can.”

“Excellent.” Zac did not remove his hand. He smiled, watching fear bloom in Bryson's eyes. Even better. “You can start with what you know about the woman who was with me.” No reason to give him Eva's name. “You recognized her, I saw it.”

“Yeah, okay. But all I know is that she was at this house that Fitzgerald owned. He used to visit once a month, sometimes more. I wasn't allowed to talk to her or ask questions or anything. All I had to do was blindfold her each time and take her to him. That's it.”

Zac searched the man's face, looking for any sign that he might be lying. But there were none. It wasn't likely anyhow. A man wouldn't put at risk his only avenue of escape for a few lies. At least, an intelligent man wouldn't.

“Did you hurt her?” Zac asked. “Did you touch her in any way?”

“No.” The word was emphatic. “Mr. Fitzgerald was particular about that and it wasn't worth my job to disobey him.” A small bead of sweat trickled down the side of Bryson's face.

“Where did she come from? Where did Fitzgerald get her?”

“I don't know. She was just at this house and that was it. Then one day … she escaped. We tried to find her but … She was gone.”

Briefly Zac debated applying more pressure, just to be sure Bryson was telling him everything. Then discarded the idea. As a bodyguard, Bryson probably wouldn't know much. Certainly if Zac had been in Fitzgerald's place, he wouldn't have told a lowly guard anything he didn't absolutely need to know.

“Tell me about the Lucky Seven,” Zac said after a moment. “And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.”

“T-The casino?”

“Yes, the casino.”

Any thoughts of holding out had quite clearly vanished from Bryson's head. “I went with Mr. Fitzgerald. He liked to watch the gambling but he never took part.”

“He had connections there, didn't he? With the owner.”

Bryson gave a jerk of his head. “Not sure. I think so. It was a long time ago.”

Nineteen years to be exact. “Something went on there. Something you were a part of, Mr. Bryson. In fact, you stood guard…” Zac let the sentence hang, watching the other man's face.

But there was no disguising or hiding the puzzlement in the man's face. “What ‘something'? Stand guard over what?”

“I have security tape evidence of you standing outside the men's bathroom, stopping people from coming into it. In fact, the footage consists of you having an altercation with the owner of the casino itself.”

Bryson's brow furrowed. “Yeah, okay, I recall that. But I don't know what went on in there. All I was told was to keep people out.”

“By a man called Conrad South?”

“No. I took all my orders from Mr. Fitzgerald.”

A sliver of ice slid beneath Zac's skin. An unexpected and unfamiliar sliver. It had been a long time since he'd felt trepidation, at least not when it didn't involve Eva.

So Fitzgerald had ordered his bodyguard to guard a bathroom while Alex was raped. By one of Fitzgerald's friends. Which meant that obviously he'd known about it. And had colluded in it.

The same man who'd kept Eva in a house as his personal sexual slave.

The fucking bastard.

Anger spiked, escaping its cage and piercing him, sharp and heavy as a bolt from a crossbow. It lodged in the center of his chest, radiating outward, filling him. Making his skin feel tight with the pressure of it.

“Tell me about the Seven Devils. What do you know about them?” Zac demanded.

Bryson shook his head violently, terror filling his eyes, and Zac realized he was snarling. Then Bryson began choking and when Zac looked down, he saw his hand pressing hard around the man's throat.

Fuck his word. This bastard deserved death for what he'd done.

And yet … A body would alert Fitzgerald to the fact that someone was onto him and that wouldn't do. Not when they needed definitive proof as to what his role was in all of this. And definitely not considering the threat against Eva and her investigations, not when logic would suggest that the threat was Fitzgerald's work too.

Jesus. He was bloody going to have to let Bryson live.

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, anyone at all,” Zac said calmly, “I will tear your throat out. Understood?”

Bryson gave a jerky nod, the red in his face draining away like the tide going out, leaving nothing but pallid, wet sand in its wake.

It took a certain effort of will to release the prick, but Zac managed it, taking his hand off Bryson's throat and leaving him to slide down the wall in a choking, spluttering heap for the second time that day.

Then he stepped back and turned to follow Eva.

“What about my arrangement?” Bryson croaked out as Zac left the apartment. “You fucking promised me!”

“All in good time.” Zac adjusted his leather gloves, noting with distaste the evidence of the other man's sweat. “Try not to get murdered in the meantime.”

Curses followed him out the door, but he ignored them, Bryson already forgotten.

What mattered was Eva and the information she'd just had handed to her. The name of her faceless captor.

He increased his pace down the shitty apartment stairs and out of the building. The limo was still sitting by the curb, a couple of groups of people standing around surreptitiously eyeing it.

It didn't take much more than a glance to send them off, but that was enough, especially considering he was already as pissed as fuck, his anger boiling like lava inside a volcano.

Christ, he'd love the excuse to take someone down right now. Let off some of that steam. But that was a release he never allowed himself, unless it was in the context of a gym and a punching bag. Or the boxing matches he sometimes took part in.

Or a little bit of carefully controlled domination followed by some rough, raw and dirty sex.

He knew which option he'd go for. Except for the small problem he had in finding a partner he actually wanted.

You have a partner already.

The knowledge hit him like a punch to the gut and he had to pause beside the limo, the heady mix of violence and anger and desire seeping into his bloodstream like opium.

Of course he had a partner. Eva. Who was no longer off-limits. He took a silent breath, not wanting to get into the car just yet. He had to be in control of himself, be the absolute master of his emotions and his desires before he got anywhere near her. She wouldn't be able to handle the dragon, the hunger that lived inside him. The kind of hunger that had turned his parents into aristocratic junkies. That need for something more, something that had no name. Though his parents had found a name for it—heroin. He wouldn't fall into that trap. He had control over his desires, unlike them. Control was all there was.

He would have her, take what she offered, but she didn't feel that way about him yet and he wanted her to before he made any kind of move. Wanted her desperate for him the way he was desperate for her. Wanted her aching and empty and wet for him. Only then would he take her.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe that could be a punishment. To want and not have. Like he'd been wanting for so damn long …

A couple of youths who'd been creeping back toward the limo took one look at him, turned tail and ran. Fuck. He'd been snarling again.

Zac composed himself with an effort. The sex would have to wait anyway. Right now he needed as much information as he could get about Evelyn Fitzgerald, and since Bryson knew nothing more, the only other person he could get it from was sitting in the limo right now.

Time to put her promise to the test.

Pulling open the door, Zac finally got in.

Eva was sitting on the seat opposite, her hands still in the pockets of her jacket. She looked even paler than normal. Like a woman made of snow come to life. White skin, silver hair, eyes glittering like quartz.

“Did you kill him?” she asked point blank, her voice brittle, fragile.

Perhaps he should have been offended by her assumption, then again she knew what kind of man he was. “No. I'm not sure we need to advertise the fact we're hunting for information. Not when it's probable that Fitzgerald is behind those threats to you. “

Her expression hardened. “If you're expecting a discussion about what went on in that apartment, you're shit out of luck. I don't want to talk about it.”

He kept his hands clasped together, hanging between his knees. “We need to let the others know.”

“We'll give them the name. That's fine. But I'm not talking about anything else, understand?”

Oh, he did understand. All too well. Pity he wasn't going to let it pass. “You promised, angel,” he said gently.

She ignored him. “About the second part of this ultimatum of yours…” She kicked up her feet onto the seat next to him, her heavy black Docs crossed at the ankles. “You want to do this tonight? Tomorrow? When?”

The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the scummy neighborhood and Bryson behind, the purr of the engine the only sound.

So, she wasn't going to honor her promise. She wasn't going to trust him.

Disappointment bit deep. Yes, she was probably shocked and scared, and in pain. But that didn't matter. It felt like a betrayal. A denial.

And you've been denied before.

He ignored that thought. This wasn't about the past, this was about the present. About Eva. About the promise she'd given him.

He always kept his word, but it seemed she wouldn't.

She had to learn.

Slowly, he unclasped his hands and sat up. “Do you think you can promise me something, angel, then break it? Just like that? With no consequences?”

His tone must have clued her into the fact that she was in deep shit, because she tensed, the look on her face belligerent, her whole body radiating defiance. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to talk about what it was like to be raped, asshole.”

He stared at her, held her still with the force of his gaze. “Do you think,” he said softly, “that I don't know what it's like to have your choice ripped away from you? Do you think I don't know what it means to feel powerless? To be afraid? To be hurt? Because I do, angel. I've been there. I know the darkness as well as you do. But sometimes we have to go back whether we want to or not, and not for ourselves. There are other people at stake here besides yourself. How many more times do I have to remind you?”

Anger leapt in her eyes, the kind of bright, wild anger that often accompanied fear. “I know there are others! You don't have to keep telling me! But I don't see how reliving something like that is going to help anyone.”

He moved then, lightning fast, reaching out to grab her small, stubborn chin holding it tight.

She froze, her eyes going wide, watching him like a mouse watches a cat about to pounce. Her breath came in short, frightened bursts and he could see her pulse beating frantically at the base of her throat.