He glanced at his twin. “I know. But blocking him out has become such a habit that I’m not even aware of it anymore.”
“Until this Sam of yours came along.”
“She’s not my Sam.” Why did people keep calling her that? Shit, the truth was, they barely even knew each other. “She’s my partner—and if I have my way, won’t even be that for much longer.”
Jess raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you denying your attraction?”
“When you can read the truth in my mind?” He smiled a little grimly. “I’m not that foolish. But it’s an attraction I have no intention of following through on. I don’t want to lose another partner.”
“Such things cannot always be controlled, Gabriel. As evidenced by this bond you’re forming.”
“If I can cut my twin from my thoughts, I can cut an unwanted connection with Sam, believe me.”
Her smile became a little sad again. “You will end up a very lonely old man if you’re not careful, Gabriel.”
He briefly cupped her cheek with his palm. “How will I end up lonely when I have a sister who’ll nag me senseless?”
“You’re hopeless, little brother.” She leaned forward and placed a light kiss on his cheek. “And soon you will learn to watch what you wish for.”
Gabriel glanced up sharply. She met his gaze with a cryptic smile and stepped back as Stephan approached.
“That was headquarters.” His face was grim. “Sam’s apartment has just been bombed. Again.”
Jessie gasped softly. “Is she all right?”
“A question Gabriel can no doubt answer.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “She’s alive. She wasn’t caught in the bombing—that much I know.”
“Then you’d better figure out how to find her. She’s probably our best shot at stopping this murderous bitch fast.” Stephan glanced across the room. “Meantime, Dad and I will search the State Police recruitment records and see if we can find anything suspicious.”
He watched the two men leave the room and then looked at his sister. “How do I use the link to find her?”
—
Sam groaned and held her head. There were a thousand tiny madmen in there, all intent on beating drums out of sync with each other. The headaches she’d experienced before had nothing on this. The noise created by the madmen vibrated through every nerve, every cell—it even seemed to gain form and dance around her. Her whole body thrummed to the beat of its tune. Then slowly, she realized the noise was real, not imagined. And she realized she was not alone.
She lifted her head. Dr. Francis, the vet she’d taken her borrowed cat to, stood four feet away, her arms crossed and a contemptuous look on her face. Behind her, though cloaked in darkness, Sam could make out a series of tumbledown brick walls. No light broke the darkness, and the air had a stale smell. All around them, noise hummed. Machinery, she realized. They were on a building site.
But what kind of site operated in the middle of the night?
“You should be dead,” Dr. Francis said. Her voice was still polite, still disinterested. “First you managed to overcome a lethal dose of Jadrone, and then you somehow survived a car accident that would have killed most.”
“You were the budgie in Max’s office,” Sam murmured. The men in her head were beginning to find some rhythm, making a semblance of thought possible. “Why did you think Jadrone might stop me?”
“Because a colleague of mine said it would.” A smile fluttered across the doctor’s brightly painted lips. “She can sense others of our kind, as you also appear able to do.”
If she and her colleague thought Sam a changer, that at least explained the dose of Jadrone. “Your colleague’s name wouldn’t happen to be Rose, would it?” When Dr. Francis merely smiled, Sam added, “So why did you try to kill me? And Max?”
“Max was nothing more than a weak fool.” Contempt dripped from the doctor’s voice. “He would have told you of our partnership, would have implicated me in Harry’s murder. With Max all but dead, I thought I was safe until you showed up at the office.”
So the doctor had known who she was and had simply played along. She must have followed her to O’Hearn’s and then home. Obviously, the doc had no idea that Harry’s murder was tied in with a serial killer. Maybe she didn’t read the newspapers.
Sam tried to ease the ache in her left leg by shifting her weight slightly and realized she couldn’t even move. Her legs were wrapped in something cold and heavy. Chains.
Fear rose, but she thrust it away. There was no time for fear, only escape. And if she didn’t do that soon she would die, of that she was certain.
“How were you involved with Harry?”
“He was nothing more than another test subject.”
“For your new drug?” she guessed. “An addictive and expensive replacement for Jadrone?”
“Yes. One that helps shifters without the hallucinations.”
“So why not sell it through regular channels? It’d be a huge hit on the open market.”
“Because it is not without its problems, and it’s deadly to both changers and humans. A drug like that would take years to get approval, if it ever did.” Dr. Francis hesitated, and a siren blasted through the hum of machinery. “Time for me to go. You, I’m afraid, must remain here. But don’t worry, you won’t have to wait long for death—twenty floors of an old high-rise are about to come crashing down upon your head.”
At least that explained the predawn activity. If the old tower was anywhere near a large number of office buildings, the demolition team would have been given clearance to work only between midnight and dawn.
“The chains that contain you are silver-coated,” Francis continued. “You cannot change shape until you escape them, my dear. And by then, death will be falling around your ears.”
“You won’t get away with this. The SIU doesn’t take kindly to someone killing their operatives.” She had no idea whether this was true or not, but, hell, it sounded good.
“By the time they find out you didn’t die in your apartment bombing, you will be dead and I will be long gone.”
The doctor stepped back and raised her arms, and her body blurred, briefly resembling putty being squeezed into a too-small tube. Then she became a budgie and flitted away through the darkness.
Sam glanced down at the chains. The two ends ran off into the darkness, one to her right and the other to her left. They were connected to hooks in the wall that kept the chains taut. All she had to do was unlatch one and she’d be free.
She lunged sideways. The chains around her waist bit deep, and breathing became difficult. She ignored it and tried to flick the end of the chain off the hook on the wall. It didn’t even budge. Cursing softly, she sat back up and grabbed hold of the chain. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back as hard as she could.
A muffled thump ran through silence, followed by a thick wave a dust. She coughed, and glanced up. A shudder ran through the ceiling above her, and cracks began to appear—spider-like lines that raced from the edges toward the middle.
Fear surged. Time was running out. She swore and pulled back on the chain again. The hook on the wall shifted slightly. Another muffled thump ran through the silence. Dirt and plaster began to rain down on her.
“Come on, you mother, come on!”
The hook came free with a sudden pop and sent her sprawling backward. At the same time, another muffled thump ran across the shattering darkness, closer this time. The ceiling above her groaned. The spider-like lines intermingled and the whole ceiling dropped.
She screamed and threw herself sideways. But the chains still restricted her movement and all she could do was throw her hands over her head and pray for a miracle.
GABRIEL HIT THE GROUND RUNNING. One section of the old high-rise had already been demolished. Dust rose in a wave, stinging the night sky with the scent of decay and death.
He wrenched open the door to the command center. The two men inside turned around, surprise eviden
t in their expressions. He flashed his badge. “You have to stop the demolition. We have an agent trapped inside the building.”
“I can’t. It’s automated.”
He grabbed the man’s shirt and dragged him close. “Listen very carefully. I have an agent trapped inside. I want the demolition stopped, and I don’t care how you do it.”
“Okay, okay,” the man stuttered. “We’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Just do it.” He thrust the man away from him, grabbed the flashlight that was sitting on a bench and headed back outside.
Another muffled explosion ran across the silence. The old building seemed to shudder, and then the west wing came down in an almost graceful silence. More dust rose into the sky.
He swore and ran for the central building, the area that had once housed the building’s basement. That was where she was.
The main doors were boarded shut, but several well-placed kicks soon fixed that. Dust rolled out to greet him, as thick as the darkness beyond the doorway.
He coughed, and turned on the flashlight. Another explosion rolled through the night, followed quickly by a muffled scream.
Sam. As yet unhurt by the falling debris.
He picked his way down the shattered corridor, heading for the emergency exit sign that gleamed brightly in the beam of the flashlight. The stairs beyond were a tangle of wood and jagged plasterboard. He shone the light upward. Part of the ceiling had collapsed. It wouldn’t take much to bring the whole lot down.
He continued on. Dust caught at his throat, making him cough, and the air became stale, almost hard to breathe.
“Gabriel?” Her voice rose from the darkness, full of sudden hope.
“Here.” He swung the light to the left. Her voice had come from beyond the row of disconnected walls.
“I’m trapped,” she said. “Hurry.”
Another explosion ran through the darkness. He swore and wondered why the fools in charge hadn’t stopped the demolition. Surely they could throw a power switch. With no power, there would be no computer to regulate the charges.
Plaster and brick began to rain from the ceiling, deadly missiles that drew blood every time they hit. He ran through the maze, dodging and weaving the best he could. The flashlight danced across the darkness, briefly illuminating shadowed corners. None of them held Sam.
“Talk to me, Sam!”
“Here!” she said.
She was close, so close. He kicked his way through a doorway. “Again.”
“On your right, through the door, I think.”
There were two doors on his right. Letting instinct take control, he booted open the second of the two. The light picked out her dust-covered face.
He knelt by her side. The ceiling had half collapsed, covering her in plaster and wood. But that wasn’t what held her. Chains did. Anger rose, swift and hard. The would-be assassin had better hope he wasn’t the one who caught her.
“You okay?” He pushed the debris away from her body, grabbed the end of the chain and began to unwind it.
“Fine,” she said. “How did you find me?”
He met her gaze briefly. Confusion and relief mingled in her smoke-ringed blue eyes. She wasn’t aware of the bond she’d forged. Good. Perhaps he’d be able to close it before it got too strong.
“Long story.” He unwound the chains from her legs and tossed them to one side. “Can you move?”
“I think so.” She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up. No sooner had she put weight on her left leg than it collapsed under her.
He grabbed her before she could fall back down. “Looks like you’ve done some damage to your leg.” He slipped an arm round her waist, taking her weight—what little there was of it. “Let’s get out of here.”
She didn’t argue. They made their way back to the stairs, their progress agonizingly slow. Though she made no complaint, her pain stabbed at the back of his mind.
Another muffled thump ran across the darkness. A shudder ran through the bricks around them, and the dust became thick enough to carve. The flashlight’s bright beam flared against the soupy swirl, unable to penetrate more than a yard or so.
They struggled up the stairs. Behind them, it began to rain bricks and wood, gently at first, but increasing in volume and strength. The building was coming down. Gabriel swung Sam up into his arms and ran like hell for the front entrance. The collapse was a tidal wave that raced behind him. He could feel the strength of it pushing at his back, urging him to fall. Plaster and wood crashed around them, and the dust was so thick he could barely breathe, let alone see.
He stumbled past a mound of wood and bricks and out the front door. A deep groaning filled the silence—the final scream of a dying building. He kept on running.
The old building came down with an almost silent sigh, and a sudden rush of wind battered at him, thrusting him to the ground. He twisted as he fell, so that he cushioned Sam’s body with his own. For a few seconds, all he could hear was the thunder of her heart, and all he could feel was the warmth of her body pressed against him. And all he wanted to do was keep on holding her, because it felt so right, so real, somehow.
The two men scrambled out of the control room.
“Jesus, man, are you all right?”
The sandy-haired worker he’d threatened stopped several feet away. Which was just out of reach. “Yeah. Call an ambulance, will you?”
“I’m okay,” she murmured, struggling against his hold on her.
He released her and she rolled away from him and sat up. Though she made no sound, her teeth caught her bottom lip. Beads of sweat broke out across her brow.
“Sure you are.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping the dust from her face. Her left cheek was badly scratched, and blood oozed down to her chin. “Tell me what happened.”
“I pissed off that budgie again.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “And I’m gonna sell my damn apartment. People keep insisting on bombing it.”
He half-smiled at her indignant tone. “Are we talking about the budgie that tried to shit all over you in Max’s office?”
“That’s her. Otherwise known as one Dr. Francis. Ex-colleague to one Max Carter, and would-be supplier to Harry Maxwell.”
“But no relation to Emma Pierce?” he guessed.
“Unfortunately, no. She’s not our serial killer, just a would-be drug mogul who hasn’t taken the time to see the bigger picture. She is working with someone who I suspect might be Rose, though it wasn’t confirmed. But I’m going to take great delight in throwing Dr. Francis’s well-manicured butt in prison, I can tell you.”
He grinned. “I almost feel sorry for Dr. Francis.”
Her grin briefly echoed his. “Sure you do.” Then she hesitated, her smile fading as her gaze searched his. “I’m sorry to hear about your sister.”
An ache cut through his heart. An ache he’d been trying so hard to ignore. “How did you find out about it?”
It came out more abruptly than he’d intended, and she raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You weren’t answering your phone, so I called Michaels to see what was going on. He told me.”
“Why were you calling in the first place?”
“You asked me to report in, remember?” She leaned back on her hands and studied him for a moment. “Why the third degree?”
He thrust a hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant to be so brusque, but he didn’t want the whole world knowing about his sister’s death, either. Not until the Stern clan had time to deal with her loss, time to say goodbye. “Sorry. I guess I’m not ready to talk freely about her murder just yet.”
“Especially with me, I suppose.”
Her words were a whisper he barely caught, and her expression suggested a loneliness as deep as anything he’d ever experienced. He half reached out to comfort her, but then he dropped his hand. This was what he wanted, he reminded himself fiercely. And more than ever, he wanted her to remain safe.
Silence reigned as they waited for th
e ambulance to arrive. He itched to get back to searching for his sister’s killer, but he wasn’t enough of a bastard to simply walk away from Sam before she’d received medical attention.
After a few minutes, she ran a hand across her bloody chin and asked, “How did you find me?”
He shrugged. “The locals took note of Francis’s car as it sped away from your building. We traced her here.”
“Really?” There was disbelief in her face and in her voice. “Then how did you know which building I was in?”
“It was the only one left standing. I took a chance.”
Her gaze searched his face. “Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not.” A siren finally sounded in the distance. He glanced past her, watching the red and blue lights of the ambulance draw close. “The ambulance is here.”
“I want to go home, not to the hospital.”
“Your home’s been bombed, remember?” He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
She jerked away from his touch, expression annoyed as she glared up at him. “I don’t care.”
“Okay. But let the doctor examine you first.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and stared at him mutinously.
He knew her silence would last only until they were alone. Then she’d want answers—answers he had no intention of giving.
The ambulance officers trotted across the grounds, medical bags in hand. Sam bore their ministrations in silence, though he could feel her annoyance, a wave of heat that washed past his mind. Having opened the link to find her, he could now feel her emotions as easily as he breathed. Touching her thoughts was only a matter of reaching out…but he had no intention of playing with that sort of fire. He’d shared such a link with Andrea. Once was more than enough.
“There’s severe bruising around the hip and torso area, but otherwise, you seem okay,” the ambulance officer said. “You might want to go to the hospital as a precautionary measure—”
“No, I’m fine, really.” Sam flashed Gabriel an I-told-you-so look. “I’ll just go home and rest.”
“It would be better if you had a thorough check at the hospital first—”