Gertie sighed at him. “It wouldn’t kill you to fix yourself something to eat and drink, you know.” She cast a mournful look at the full suitcase. “I’ve got some laundry to do, and I’m not looking forward to it.”
Russell gave her a look that was pure false sympathy. “It’s not going to do itself, so you should probably get started.”
Gertie shot him a scowl that had no real anger in it. “So freaking lazy.”
“I’ve never pretended to be anything else.” He looked at Devon. “Have I, beautiful?”
She raised her hands. “Don’t bring me into this.”
“Hmm, yes, you know better than to get involved in—” Gertie gaped in horror when Russell elevated one leg and let out a horrid-sounding fart. “Oh, Russ, must you really do that?”
His eyes widened. “If I can’t fart in my own house on my own chair, where can I do it?”
“How about the yard?”
“Not a chance.” His nose wrinkled. “Oh, that reeks.” He took a folded newspaper from the coffee table and started wafting the air with it.
“Come on, Devon, let’s go spare ourselves.” Gertie herded her into the kitchen. Lowering her voice, she said, “I didn’t want to ask in front of Russell, because hearing her name always puts him a bad mood, but has anyone told Pam—?”
“No,” clipped Devon, stomach hardening. “There’s no need to.”
“Sweetheart, she has a right to—”
“There’s no need for her to know. It would do her more harm than good anyway.”
Sighing, Gertie gave a wan smile. “I suppose you’re right. So … why don’t you tell me how you came to be marked by that hellhound.”
“Um, how about no?”
“You want me distracted from everything that’s happening around you, don’t you? So distract me.”
Oh, the woman was diabolical at times. “Some other time. I have to get going.” She’d agreed to meet Jolene, Ciaran, and Tanner outside Lockwood’s office building in just twenty minutes’ time. “I’ll see you guys later.” After an exchange of kisses, hugs, and “be safes,” Devon walked down the cobbled path and over to her car.
Since she had time, she made a pit-stop at the gas station near her destination. As she refilled her tank, she noticed that both pairs of her “guards” were idling near the empty squeegee stations, talking with each other through the open car windows. Even with her hellcat hearing she couldn’t make out what they were saying over the sounds of engines idling, gas gurgling through hoses, and music filtering through an RV’s open door, but all four guards were laughing about something. Apparently, they’d bonded.
With a snort, she turned back to the pump just as it clicked off. She replaced the nozzle, recapped the gas tank, and wiped her hands with paper towels. Then, sidestepping a fresh oil stain on the hot pavement, Devon tossed the scrunched-up paper towels in the half-full garbage can and headed inside the station to pay for the gas. On her way back to the pump station where her car waited, she gave her guards a little wave, making sure they—
Tires screeched as a van came to a stop next to her car. The back doors flew open. Men leaped out and grabbed her.
Heart slamming against her ribs, Devon struggled like crazy as they yanked her into the van. “You mother—”
There was a sharp prick in her arm, an awful feeling of pressure, and then it felt like her blood was fluttering. And she knew … liquid mercury. The bastards had injected her with liquid mercury, knowing it would weaken her and prevent her feline from surfacing. Oh, fuck.
*
Rolling up his electronic window to block out the country music blasting from the BMW idling in front of him, Tanner continued to listen intently as Knox telepathically told him what he’d learned of Sloan’s most trusted sentinel, Colm. Which was basically nothing helpful.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to go to great lengths to delete any paper trails that led to their past—hell, Tanner, Knox, and the sentinels had done that very thing—but it could be fucking annoying at times.
The only thing that pointed to Colm being the one who killed Harry and Dale was that he was often sent by Sloan to execute traitors. But Colm had never been known to mutilate them beforehand. He allegedly liked to get the deaths over with quickly.
Did Sloan’s plants know much?
I’m not sure, replied Knox, his telepathic tone edged with irritation. They killed each other before either could speak.
Tanner blinked. They what?
It must have been a suicide pact, or maybe Sloan ordered them to die rather than pass on any information.
They obviously didn’t trust that they could hold out against any pain you dealt them. As the traffic light turned green, Tanner switched gears and drove forward. He wasn’t far from Lockwood’s office building, where Jolene might already be waiting with Ciaran. He knew that Devon hadn’t yet arrived there, or Enzo would have notified Tanner by now—just as he’d notified him of every move that she’d made that morning since leaving her apartment.
Someone silenced Harry and Dale, said Knox, but there’s nothing to suggest it was Colm, or even that it was someone who worked for Sloan. This may have nothing to do with the other Prime.
Tanner twisted his mouth. Muriel insisted that her brother and Harry weren’t in contact, but Dale was real protective of her; if he and Harry were involved in something that could have endangered her, Dale would have kept it from her.
True. It’s not a coincidence that he and Harry were killed in the exact same manner—I’m sticking with our theory that they both knew something they weren’t supposed to know.
Or someone is targeting people from Ramsbrook. I can’t think why anyone would, but it’s possible.
If that were the case, there’d be more bodies. So far, only Harry and Dale … Knox trailed off, and there was a long pause. My meeting is about to start. We’ll talk again later. Let me know how things go with Lockwood. If he’s uncooperative, bring him to my Chamber.
Will do. If the array of torturous machines and sharp implements couldn’t convince Lockwood to part with what he knew, nothing would.
Tanner telepathically reached out to Enzo. Has Devon left the gas station yet?
She just went inside to pay, Enzo replied. I’ll let you know the second she makes a move. Enzo didn’t add, Just as I’ve done since this morning, but Tanner heard it in his tone.
Did Tanner need to check in with the other male so often? No. But having someone watch over her didn’t give Tanner the reassurance that it should have done, because it meant trusting someone else’s eyes and ears and instincts with something as important as her safety. That wasn’t so easy to do. Especially now that he knew the person who wanted her wasn’t deterred by their past lack of success or by his mark on her palm.
Rolling back his shoulders, he relaxed his death-grip on the steering wheel. She had four people tailing her, he reminded himself. Four people watching not only her but her surroundings, ready to act upon the slightest hint of a threat. And yet, he couldn’t help worrying about her.
His frustration mounted with each hour that passed when the cloud of danger continued to color her life. It might not have been so hard to stop obsessing over it if Tanner felt close to unearthing the identity of the bastard who wanted her, but he was utterly fucking clueless. He was a hellhound; hunting was in his blood. But his superior tracking senses didn’t help much when dealing with someone who was speaking through others.