The Order Boxed Set (78 page)

“Will they give her back when they realize?”

“Maybe. Or they might try and trade her for Roz.”

“How did they find her? Roz I mean?” Ryan asked. “I thought you said there was no connection and as long as she didn’t use the fire thing again they couldn’t locate her?”

“Maybe someone talked,” Piers said.

“If they did, I’ll rip their tongue out.” Christian prowled the room, but at least his eyes had returned to normal. He turned to Piers. “You need to take Roz and get away from here.”

“Why, she’s as safe at the Order as anywhere. The place is warded. They’ll never get to her.”

Ryan looked thoughtful. “Unless someone helps them.”

“Are you saying we have a traitor?” Piers frowned as though the idea was impossible.

“No,” Ryan said. “I’m saying if we don’t know where you and Roz are, then if they offer a trade, no one will be tempted to take them up on it.”

Ryan was suggesting that either he or Christian might betray them. What would he do faced with the choice? If they offered Tara’s life in exchange for Roz—would he give her up? He didn’t know, and the same confusion was echoed on Christian’s face.

If they hurt his daughter, tortured her, could he stand by when he had the means of saving her. “He’s right,” he said to Piers. “Take Roz and get the hell away from here. Don’t tell us where and don’t come back until this is over.”

Piers glanced from him to Christian and finally nodded. “We’ll go.”

“Good.” Ash tried to think what else they had to do but he was desperate to get away, start hunting. He needed to organize a meeting with Raphael, tell him he had the wrong woman. If he didn’t return her, he’d rip the bastard’s wings from his fucking shoulders and beat him to death with them.

What else did he need to do?

Faith. He didn’t think she was in danger but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Tell Carl to set a round-the-clock guard on Faith.”

Ryan frowned. “You think someone might come after her.”

“No, but it can’t hurt.”

“What are you going to do?” Piers asked.

“Go down to the Abyss first. Send out some of my people to start asking questions. Then organize a meeting with Raphael. Tell him he fucked up.”

“I’m coming with you,” Christian said.

He glanced at the vampire. It was probably safer to keep Christian close by—the vampire wasn’t rational—but he’d never thought it would come to this. Babysitting a vampire. “Okay.”

Ash nodded to Piers. “Keep Roz safe.”

“I will.”

Then he opened a portal and dropped down into hell.

…

Faith discharged herself from hospital the following morning. The doctors didn’t want her to go, but she felt fine, and she could see that puzzled them.

Apparently, she’d lost a lot of blood and she shouldn’t feel fine. In fact, she shouldn’t even be able to get on her feet. But here she was. And apart from an ache when she raised her arm, the bullet wound wasn’t causing her any problems.

So it seemed like the doctors were wrong.

Maybe they could be wrong about other things as well. Like the fact that she had vein swelling in her brain that might burst at any moment leaving her dead—or worse—brain damaged.

The police had interviewed her last night after everyone else had left. She’d repeated the same as she’d told Christian. Which was everything except the fact that she was pretty sure she knew who was responsible for abducting Tara Roth.

She needed to get into the office and find out if what she suspected was true. If it was, she was going to be seriously pissed. Obviously, they were monitoring her phone calls. That had been a slick operation. They knew about the bodyguards, where to pick them up. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment job.

In her book, you didn’t spy on your own.

She’d had a call from the colonel that morning. Apparently, the police had informed him of her injuries. He’d been most sympathetic and told her to take as much time off as she needed.

Maybe he didn’t want her back at the office. Tough luck.

Were they keeping Tara in one of those off-limit areas far beneath the ground?

Tara didn’t deserve this. Whatever her husband had done, Tara wasn’t responsible. MI13 might be powerful, but they weren’t above the law. No one was.

And she now had a bodyguard. She wasn’t quite sure what she should do about that. Carl had introduced himself last night. Ash had arranged it.

Another stunningly gorgeous alpha male, Carl wasn’t quite so intimidating as the two men she’d met last night, probably because while he was as big, he was dressed casually in faded jeans and a khaki T-shirt that matched his eyes. There was an energy about him though, and the air around him crackled.

Static
, she told herself.

He had the appearance of ex-military, maybe it was his short hair, which was cut close to his head, but he claimed he’d never served in the army. He was head of Security at CR International. He’d let slip that he’d held the position since Christian started the company, which would make him a hell of a lot older than he appeared.

Someone else who’d been hitting on the Botox?

She didn’t think he seemed the type.

Carl took her home to shower and change and then dropped her off outside the entrance to her office. She leaned in and spoke through the window. “I think I’ll be safe from here.”

“Okay. I’ll have someone watching the entrance. They can give you a ride home when you’re ready.”

She schooled her features to blankness as she entered the building, but she didn’t recognize the guard on duty. The man from the white van last night was nowhere in sight.

As she passed through the security checks, she tried to come up with a plan. She wasn’t sure whether it would be best to plead ignorance and pretend she knew nothing of MI13’s involvement or whether she should admit that she knew they had taken Tara. If she did, she’d have to make believe she approved.

Because she wanted her goddamn security clearance.

For that to happen they had to trust her. In the end, she decided to wait until she’d seen the colonel and make a decision afterward. She didn’t have to wait long.

As she sank down at her desk, the door to the colonel’s office opened and he came out. Security had probably alerted him to her presence. He strode toward her a frown forming between his eyes.

“Faith, what are you doing here? You’ve been shot, you should be resting.”

She pasted a smile on her face. “It was just a scratch. They let me out this morning with some painkillers.”

The frown deepened, and she rolled her shoulder to show it didn’t hurt. “See. No problem. I lost my gun, though.” She didn’t know where it had gone, probably picked up by the police.

“Go down to the armory—they’ll issue you with another.”

He was studying her, maybe a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“Christian Roth came to see me in the hospital,” she said.

“What did he want?”

“You mean you didn’t have the room bugged?”

His lips quirked in a smile that didn’t reach his pale eyes. “Of course not. You’re in danger of becoming paranoid, Faith.”

“I’m guessing that’s par for the course around here. But Roth wanted to thank me for attempting to save his wife and to ask me what happened.”

“And what did you tell him?”

She stared into the colonel’s face and made a snap decision. “Well, I didn’t tell him that the people I worked for had taken her if that’s what you want to know.”

The colonel smiled and this time it did reach his eyes. “Adams suspected you recognized him.”

“The bastard shot me.”

“You said it was a scratch.” He studied her head cocked on one side. “Though he thought he’d winged you through the shoulder.”

“Maybe you’d better book him some time on the shooting range. So why didn’t you tell me what was going down? And why the fuck didn’t you tell me you had my phone tapped?”

“We didn’t want your new friends to suspect you were in any way involved. They’ll trust you now.” He was almost rubbing his hands together, the smug bastard.

It was becoming increasingly clear to her that she didn’t want to work At MI13. What sort of organization sacrificed their people?

Gritting her teeth, she forced her lips into a pleasant smile. Strangely, if she’d been in on the whole thing, she might not have been so pissed off. As it was, she had to grip onto her cup to stop herself jumping up and punching him on the nose. She took a sip of her coffee while she thought about her next move.

“So where is Tara Roth?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Why do you want her?”

He pursed his lips, but when he spoke, it wasn’t to answer her question. “Your security clearance has come through. Perhaps you can finish the paperwork and afterward, we can talk some more.”

“So the boss is in? Do I get to meet him?”

“Sorry, Raphael has been and gone.”

“Raphael?”

“Yes. I’m sure you’ll get to meet him soon, but not today.”

How convenient.

The paperwork took the rest of the morning. More nondisclosure agreements. While Ash was presumably busy helping with the search for Tara, she’d thought he might call, suggest they had lunch. But no one contacted her from the outside and her phone remained stubbornly silent. It was probably just as well considering her phone was tapped—she didn’t want to bring Ash to the colonel’s attention, any more than she already had.

Tara.

Where was she?

She’d been taken by the British Government. They weren’t going to harm her. She was probably in a nice cushy safe house somewhere. But doubt niggled at Faith. However comforting she found this idea, her subconscious wasn’t convinced.

Did they hope to use her to trade for information, to maybe to get Christian Roth to admit to whatever crimes they thought him guilty of?

While waiting for clearance, she researched the people he worked with. Most appeared normal, but she stopped short when she reached her new friend Carl. Carl had been with him from the start.

She stared at the screen shaking her head. They had to be kidding. Carl was a goddamn werewolf? She almost laughed out loud at the word.

Then, she punched in her own name and was unsurprised to find she had a file. At first, she flicked through the details quickly but then slowed to a halt. Going back, she read the words again.

Mother murdered. The file had an internal reference F and was cross-referenced to another—the main file on her mother’s death she guessed. She clicked, almost afraid of what she would see.

A picture flashed on the screen. Her mother’s body. Instantly, Faith was transported back to that night. She’d been twelve and they were living in Carlisle, in the north of the country, renting a house on the edge of town.

It had been a Saturday night. Someone came to the house and her mother had let them in. A man—Faith had caught a brief glimpse of him as he entered—which was unusual. Her mother didn’t have boyfriends. Well, Faith’s father, but she never talked about him, and there was no name on her birth certificate.

There had been no screams, no sounds of a fight. Faith wasn’t even sure why she had gone to look. Maybe just prurient interest. But the night had been so quiet.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, she had a clear view of the bed. The body. So much blood.

Then something behind her. Something so terrible she didn’t want to see. Despite that, her feet shifted on their own accord. She turned.

And…nothing. She couldn’t remember. Instead, there was a huge, impenetrable wall in her mind blocking the scary thing. The psychologist they sent her to afterward had told her it was a defense mechanism. They’d tried everything to make her remember, because the police were pretty sure that she’d come face-to-face with her mother’s murderer that night. He had spared her, but so traumatized her that she’d cut him from her mind.

Shit. However hard she tried, she couldn’t get through the wall, could never remember what happened next.

She flicked quickly through the photographs, showing the wounds on her mother’s body, teeth marks at her throat, wrist, and inner thigh.

Similar to her case. Faith had never before considered that the two were connected. They were too far apart time-wise for that to be likely. A copycat? But why?

She flicked to the next picture, and again shock held her still. It was a photo of her twelve-year-old self, taken the night of the murder. Her head was raised, so her neck could be seen showing the puncture marks in the smooth skin of her throat. The marks were clean, not bleeding, but clearly teeth marks.

She stared, and then shook her head. She had no memory of that photo being taken. Certainly no memory of ever being bitten. How the fuck did she forget something like that?

She slammed her palm down, clearing the screen.

Raising her hand to her throat, she stroked the skin almost expecting to encounter a wound, but there was nothing. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

She had to get out of there.

The walls were closing in, the weight of the building above bearing down on her.

She got up, stumbling on shaky legs. Across the room, the young priest glanced her way. He frowned and hurried over.

“Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath and forced a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just a sleepless night catching up with me. I’ll go and…” She waved toward the restrooms across the way, and strode away without waiting for him to say anything further.

After splashing cold water on her face and neck, she leaned against the cool tiles.

God, she needed some fresh air.

First, she had to talk to the colonel.

She knocked lightly on his door and heard him call come in.

Father O’Brien sat on one of the upright chairs in front of the desk. Faith took the vacant seat beside him, facing the colonel.

“You look pale. Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Tired, that’s all. I’ll head home after this if that’s okay.”

“Of course. And so have we convinced you yet?”

“Of what?” she asked warily.

“That the monsters do exist?” Father O’Brien said softly. “And that it is our sacred duty to fight them and smite them down?”