Drop Dead Demons (51 page)

I stood alone in the middle of a very modern, very unfamiliar office.

Cream tiled floor, white walls, skylights through which stars glittered in the night sky. The room was in shadows, only a small desk lamp illuminated, but I could see sleek shelves lining the walls holding books and minimal knickknacks. A white leather chair. A stainless steel desk, the surface neat, files and official documents stacked and orderly. A laptop sat open, but the screen was dark. A silver-framed photograph. Tall ficus tree in a corner. The decor was simplistic, functional, yet elegant.

“Uh, guys?” I turned around.

Cue gasp of astonishment.

The office didn’t have four walls. Only three and a floor-to-ceiling expanse of glass that offered a view of a four-story N.A.S.A.-like command center below, housing hundreds of diligently working folk in front of advanced technological equipment.

“What the heck did I do?”

Unfortunately, elves didn’t dance in with the answer. I grabbed a stack of files.

Scratch that. My hands passed
through
the folders and the desk. Like I was a ghost. Just to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, I tried again.

Nope. The files, desk, its drawers, the chair, the lamp. Couldn’t touch a thing, couldn’t feel a thing. Me and Casper. Only instead of friendly, I was freaked out.

Even more so when on the desk I saw the photo of a woman and a young boy. Oh dear Lord, if I wasn’t dead I was about to be. I bolted for the door. My hand passed through the handle. Super.

Just as I realized my idiocy of not running through the door, it opened. I jumped back.

The intruder did a double-take, then froze, eyes turning wild around the edges and zeroing in on me. He stayed so still I started to wonder if he was a robot with his pause-button pressed. A really handsome robot ready for the runway. Did Armani make robots for that? Or maybe I really was a ghost and he couldn’t see me.

Then he breathed one word. “
Fiamma
.”
 

Great. Not again. So much for my Casper theory.

“Sorry. Don’t know her. I’m just…me.” I cleared my throat. “Some faceless minion. Dropping off files. For Miss Madame Sophina Cacciatori. Whose office this is. That we are standing in.” I was as smooth as they come. The office’s owner was a guess, but I’d recognized the woman in the photo. Cacciatori.

Lion’s den, here I come.

Careful to keep his eyes tracking me, Armani shut the door and twisted the lock. That couldn’t be good. A not so subtle look around provided no other means of escape.

His deep voice had a subtle accent. “You are even more beautiful than I recall.”

“Sure.” Who did he think I was? I must have some doppelganger. My eyes raked the floor, but no sign of a trap door. I even checked for a double-spiral that might offer some secret escape hatch because, well, I was desperate. And scared out of my wits.

My attention snapped back to Armani to find him standing too close, a gentle smile on his lips. I reeled back. “Whoa!”

“I did not mean to frighten you.” He reached for me and his hand passed through mine.

He froze again. I did too. Mirroring the crazy just seemed like the safest course of action.

“You’re not here.” His voice trembled as much as the hand he hovered over my cheek.

I flinched. “I’m the ghost of Christmas future here to tell you that locking girls in offices ends badly for you. Police, manhunt, prison time.” I considered throwing some karate chops to scare him off, but in my current non-solid form, didn’t see much point.

“You can’t be dead. I haven’t saved you yet.”

I’d contemplate that sound logic at a later time. Then for a split second, I wondered if I was dead. But that didn’t make sense. Not that much did at the moment.

“Save me from what?”

“Artemis. She took you. But how are you here?” Confusion melted off his face, replaced by a look of cold, calculating control. “You’re using Holocom.”

“I’m what?”

“Something on your head?” His fingers poked through my forehead.

My hands buried in my hair, but I couldn’t feel the thing Blake had put there. The round metal thing. “Oh, crap.”

Holocom. It was supposed to be broken.

“No, this is good.” He ran around the desk, knocking the chair to the floor in his eagerness to get to the computer. “Where were you before you were here? You are using Mandatum technology. I can trace you.”

And here I was thinking my worst case scenario couldn’t possibly get worse. “Neverland. Second star to the right.”

His face twisted with confusion. “Tell me your true name. Your location. Anything. Please,
Fiamma
.”

Why did they think they knew me? I backed away.

His mouth flattened to a grim smile as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “At least I know you are American.”

Crap! “What? I bloody am not…mate.”

“That could be the worst Australian accent I have ever heard.”

“That’s because…I’m British. Jolly good. Pip, pip! Long live the queen!”

He flicked me an amused glance and kept tapping keys. “Not British either.”

“Alright, fine, I’m a lass from Ireland. Top of the morning, boyo!”

“So you are not in Australia, England or Ireland. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I grumbled, then reached for the keyboard. “Stop!”

He didn’t have to worry. I couldn’t get a grip if my life depended on it. Which it did.

He leaned over the desk, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. When he looked up, his hard gaze shimmered with cunning determination.

“I do not know what they have told you, who is holding you.” His eyes narrowed. “Or why you wish to elude me. But you cannot. Nothing will stop me. I am the only one who can protect you. Help me find you and I will make you understand. You can trust me.” His hand reached out.

I cringed and backed away.

“No!” His eyes flashed with fury as he slammed his fist on the desk, rattling the contents. “I will not let you escape!” He started to move toward me then stopped. He breathed deep and came around the desk with deliberate slowness, palm raised. “I am sorry. I should not lose control.”

His eyes glazed over, his body stilled. Maybe the freezing thing was a tick of some kind. Whatever it was passed quickly.

He blinked, then spoke, his words rushed together. “They are coming for you. Please. Where are you? I need your
name
!”

I grasped at my head. If I could just rip off the stupid headgear keeping me trapped in this nightmare.

“No, don’t try to— Don’t go! Not yet.” His hands hovered over my arms. “Give me something. Anything. I can take you away. Forever.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

I shook my head. “Guys, get me out of here.” I didn’t think the Hex Boys could hear me, but I was running out of options.

“Men are holding you captive?” His face darkened into a lethal expression. “Who are they? I can kill them. I
will
kill them all. With pleasure.” His voice rumbled with a savage, steely edge. “When I find you. Soon. That I promise.”

The computer beeped. He looked down. His smile turned primal. “I have you. North America. Of course. Not east coast. Or mid-west. It is—”

The world went black. Pain cracked through my skull. Someone pulled my hair.

“It’s off!”

“She’s out!”

“They’re tracing us!”

“Terminate it!”

“We’re so screwed!”

“She’s such a moron!”

The secret room. The Hex Boys. No wonder I was in pain.

“Babe, I’m sorry. How could I know Tristan fixed the Holocom?”

“How close did they trace us?” Ayden demanded.

“Western United States.” Tristan was on the floor, screwing something onto the computer. “
Maybe
California.”

Logan made a squeaking noise.

Ayden gritted his teeth. “Why didn’t you shut it down sooner?”

“I couldn’t. Holocom wasn’t connected to M’s computer yet.” Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “And
I
didn’t shut down the trace. Someone else did.”

Into the sudden tension-filled quiet, I said, “Who?”

“I don’t know. But when I tried to track them, they bounced me out of the system.” Tristan gave an irritated snort. “Like I was some kindergarten hacker. I don’t like this.”

Jayden came from behind the bar holding a mug. “That is uniquely similar to when I attempted to track who removed my request of Aurora’s DNA analysis from the Mandatum system.”

Matthias looked grim. “So in both cases, it’s someone with stellar hacking and high-tech surveillance skills, and Madame Cacciatori’s hunter ability just happens to be electronics. She’s a computer whiz. But why do this? You’re sure it was her office?” 

“Yes.” I gripped the warm cup of orange-cinnamon tea Jayden put into my shaking hands. “She was in the picture on the desk. Younger. Shorter hair. But definitely her. Hugging a little boy. On a boat.” 

“Describe the guy who thought he knew you.” Ayden said. “Tristan can put it through facial recognition to identify him.”

I sipped the tea, hoping the sweet spice would calm my twisting guts. “Okay. Tall. I think.”

“You
think?
” Matthias snapped.

“I’m trying!”

The tea spilled. Ayden placed it on a table and held my hands. “Keep going.”

I nodded. Breathed. “He was tall, well-built. Broad shoulders.”

“Like me, babe?”

“Not that big.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so. No one ever is.”

Logan whacked him. “Let her focus.”

“Just sayin’.”

I floated my hand over my chin. “He had a scruffy shadow. Like he hadn’t shaved for a couple days. Sharp jawline.” I heard Tristan typing. “Hair was…medium brown, but with lighter streaks. Thick. Not short, but not too long.”

Matthias grumbled, “Could you be any less specific?”

“Shut up!” I glared then pressed my fists to my temples, trying to hold his image. “He had curls at the back of his neck. Or…more wavy than curly. And his eyes were…dark? But not brown. I don’t think. The room was dark so I’m not sure.”

Ayden frowned. “You’re sure you’ve never seen him before?”

“No. But…he was familiar somehow.” Something nagged my brain, then I snapped my fingers. “The voice! An accent! It was subtle but…Italian. Like Madam Cacciatori, but not as heavy as hers. That helps, right?”

“Sure.” Matthias was his usual supportive and enthusiastic self. “We’ve narrowed it down to a few million brown-haired Italian guys. Bloody brilliant.”

“I think we’ve done better than that.” Blake dropped into a wheeled office chair, and nudged Tristan aside to type on the Frankenstein computer’s skeletal keyboard. “Was he sexy?”

My brow creased. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Blake shot me a glance, hazel eyes piercing, lacking any form of amusement and brooking no argument. “Just answer me. Was he sexy? Deep voice?”

I blew out air. “Yes. He was handsome.”

“I asked if he was sexy.”

“I guess. I was a little too freaked out to worry about swooning. And, yes, the voice was deep.”

“Was he a few years older than us? Maybe twenty or so?”

“I suppose.”

“With an aristocratic nose?”

I blinked. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Doesn’t matter.” With dramatic flourish, Blake’s index finger slammed down on a key. “That him?”

In quick succession, the bank of oversized computer screens lining the walls lit up. Each held the image of the guy I’d seen only moments ago. He wore a tux, his hair darker than I remembered and combed to perfection, his expression serious rather than savage.

I nodded. “That’s him.”

Matthias stepped forward for a better look. “Blake, who is he and how did you figure that out?”

“Dude’s my hero.” Blake leaned back, hands laced behind his head. “Don’t you guys recognize him? At the last conference in Europe, he’s the instructor who kicked me out of his Seduction course.”

Tristan breathed, “Oh, no.”

Logan flopped in a chair, deflated. Jayden’s thumbs started popping in and out of joint. Matthias muttered, “Son of a…” and turned away, both hands raking through his hair. Ayden stared at the picture, silent and utterly still but for the muscles in his jaw rippling under bloodless skin.

I turned a slow circle, my eyes scanning across each screen. “Who is he?”

Blake looked to Ayden who studied the floor for a moment, then raised glittering amber eyes to me.

“His name is Cristiano.” Ayden cleared his throat. “Cristiano Cacciatori.”

Goosebumps washed over me. And not the good kind. My knees threatened to buckle.

“As in Sophina Cacciatori? The Mandatum hunter in charge of tracking me down? The one we think is the traitor trying to kill me?
That
Cacciatori?”

“Yes.” Ayden held my gaze. “Cristiano is her son.”

Then my knees did give out. Ayden caught me and helped me into a chair. I wheezed a breath. “He said he wanted to protect me, so maybe…he’s not in on it?”

“The best assassins often lure their victims with false proclamations,” Jayden said.

“Of course,” I nodded.

Everyone knew that.

“He called you
Fiamma
, right?” Logan pushed Blake out of the way to use the computer. “Italian for flame. Like the hunters that almost—”

“Caught me in Paris,” I confirmed.

Two computer screens blinked on new images showing the Spaniard and La Femme Nikita from my encounter in Paris.

“That’s them,” I said. “Who—” My voice choked out. Did I really want to know?

Logan said with near reverence, “They’re members of Cristiano’s team.”

“But his team is…” Tristan swallowed.

“Is what?” I asked. 

Ayden pulled in a deep breath and released one word on a bleak sigh. “Sicarius.”

Nope, didn’t really want to know.

“Which is the Mandatum’s elite, most ruthless assassin squad,” Jayden said.

I shuddered. “Yes, Jayden, I know.”

He continued, “And this specific team possesses the most lethal and prolific reputation for tracking their prey, which for some reason now includes—”

“Me! Yeah, Jayden. Got that too. But why? How do they know me?”

No one had an answer. Least of all me. I dropped my face in my hands. Ayden pulled me into his arms, trying to comfort me. But it was hard to breath with this noose tightening around my neck.

A breeze drifted in off the balcony. I smelled barbeque, heard lively music, singing, and joyful laughter. Normal and non-lethal.

Yeah, I knew it wouldn’t last.

The Mandatum was on the hunt. Closing in. With their best assassin squad.

Coming for me.