Mickey's hands tightened on me; the one on my thigh began to massage my leg. I didn't tell him not to. It's been my experience that if a man is interested in having sex with you, they hesitate to kill you before they've had the sex. This rule is not always true, but more often than not. The trick is to get the man thinking more about sex than violence, so he's a little confused. We needed a little confusion among our enemies right now.
We were in a wide white hallway that ran the length of the top of the house. There were white doors with silver knobs. Nothing differentiated one door from the other. Simon went to the furthest door, and Mickey followed with me in tow. I could see Deuce following, and Edward just topping the last stairs with Rooster behind him, walking well back out of arm's or leg's length, These guys were good. I'd gotten to where I counted on the bad guys not being this good. Even if they were vampires and werewolves they'd be unprofessional. But I'd never been around professional bad guys that were this professional. It cut our options from bad to worse.
Simon opened the door. We were here. We were still alive. The night still had possibilities.
56
MICKEY sat me down near the middle of a very nice Persian rug. He kept an arm around my shoulder, as if it had been his idea to carry me. I gave his arm a squeeze before I stepped away from him. Didn't want to be slutty, but wanted him hopeful in case it was useful. The room looked like the study of a prosperous academic. There were antique maps framed on the walls. Shelves lined almost every extra space of wall, a lot of books that looked well read and well used. There were books open on the big leather-topped desk with bookmarks in them and sticky notes covered in writing, as if we'd interrupted someone's research.
A man sat behind the desk. He was a big man, both tall and wide. Not fat exactly but headed that way. He rose from his chair with a smile and walked towards us, hand outstretched. He moved with a confident, easy stride, like an ex-athlete going soft with normal living. His dark hair was cut very short and mostly bald on top. His hands were big, and the new weight showed in the hands where a college ring was beginning to cut into his flesh. He had calluses on his hands like he wasn't afraid to do the real work himself, but the calluses were losing that hard edge, softening, smoothing back into his skin. He'd probably done some of his dirty work once, but no more.
He gripped my hand with both of his, when one of his hands could have swallowed both of mine. "So glad you're here, Ms. Blake." He said it like I'd been invited instead of blackmailed.
"I'm glad one of us is glad I'm here," I said.
The smile widened, and he let my hand go. "I am sorry for our little theatrics, Simon called up and he thought Mickey had broken your neck. So happy that he exaggerated."
"Not by much, Mr. Riker,"
"Are you feeling well enough to do the spell? We could have some tea first, let you rest."
I managed a smile. "I am grateful that we're being all civilized, and coffee would be great, but where are the children?"
His eyes flicked past me to Edward. He still had his hands clasped on top of his hat, but at least they hadn't made him kneel again. "Ah, yes, the children."
I didn't like the way he said it, like it was going to be bad news.
"Where are they?" Edward asked, and Rooster hit him in the back with the gun again. It staggered him, and he had to wait for it to pass before he straightened up. His hands never left his head, as if he knew they were looking for an excuse to hurt him again.
"You promised us that they wouldn't be harmed," I said.
"You were late," Riker said.
"No," Edward said.
"Don't," I said, as Rooster raised his arm back for another blow. He did it anyway. Fuck. I turned back to Riker. "Every cruel thing you do helps convince me that you have no intention of any of us getting out of here alive."
"I assure you, Ms. Blake, that I intend to let you go."
"What about the others?"
He gave a small shrug, and walked back behind his desk. "Unfortunately, my men think that Mr. Forrester is too dangerous to be allowed to live. I do regret that." He sat down at his nice swivel chair, elbows on the chair arms, thick fingers steepled. "But he will serve a useful purpose before he dies. If you are reluctant, we will take it out on Mr. Forrester. Since we intend to kill him anyway, we can do anything we want to him, and it doesn't really matter."
My stomach was a hard knot, my pulse beating in my throat hard enough that I had to try twice to talk. "What about the kids?"
"Do you really care?"
"I'm asking, aren't I?"
He reached behind the desk and pressed something. The rear walls of the room slid open, revealing enough equipment to make NASA proud. There were four blank TV screens, but somehow I didn't think this was Riker's new Digital Television system.
"What the hell is all that for?" I asked.
"That is not really your concern. I have signaled for additional men to be brought up. When they arrive, then I will show you the children."
"Why the additional men?" I asked.
"You'll see," he said.
We didn't have long to wait. Four men came through the door. Two I recognized: Harold of the scarred face and Newt who I'd nearly made a soprano. Harold had a shotgun, and Newt his big nickel-plated.45. But it was the two men behind them that were the problem.
One was tall and planed down to nothing but muscle and dark, burnished skin. He didn't have Mickey's bulk, but he didn't need it. He entered the room surrounded by a cloud of his own violent potential. He set my lizard sense screaming, as if it knew here was someone to avoid. He had the same gun the other pros were carrying, but he'd added knives. At his forearms, his upper arms, both hips, and even hilts sticking up from behind his shoulders. It was very primitive somehow and very effective. If he'd walked into a cell, you might have dropped to your knees and begged for mercy.
The other one was just medium height, medium brown hair cut short, not too dark, not too light, not too anything. He had a face that you wouldn't remember two seconds after you saw it, because he was not handsome enough or ugly enough to stand out. He was one of the most unmemorable people I'd ever seen, and yet when his brown eyes swept over me, met mine for a second, I felt a jolt all the way down to my feet. One flash, and I knew that of the two men, he would kill you quicker.
He had the same submachine gun the others had, but paired with what looked like a.10 mil automatic. I didn't recognize the brand. My hands aren't big enough for a.10 mil so I don't pay that much attention.
"Simon, I want two men on both of our guests."
"Make it four on him," Simon said.
"I bow to your expertise."
Rooster made Edward get on his knees. Simon made Mickey go to Edward. I guess he didn't want to risk the Muscle Man hitting me again. If they killed Edward early, they still had the kids to blackmail with. Simon sent the medium man to Edward, and Simon himself took up a post by Edward. They thought he was a very dangerous man, and they were right.
The nausea had been fading, but all the preparations were making me nervous. I was afraid of what we were going to see. If they hadn't been afraid to show us, they wouldn't have had four men on Edward. I was left with Deuce and the knife guy. Harold and Newt stayed near the door. Harold seemed nervous.
Deuce touched my arm, tracing the mound of scar tissue at my elbow. "What did it?"
"Vampire."
He raised his shirt up, and his stomach was a mass of white scars. "Mortar round."
I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. But I was saved from the decision because the knife guy grabbed my arm and turned me to look at Riker. He kept his hand on my arm, and since his hand completely encircled my upper arm, it wasn't going to be easy to get away.