Kai came to his feet.
Parrish held up a hand. “Sit down,” he said quietly.
Kai obeyed him. Donovan noted that if Kai in any way resented being ordered around by his father, he didn’t show it.
“What a mess,” Quinn said.
Parrish stared hard at him, and he, too, fell silent.
Parrish returned his gaze to Donovan and smiled. Donovan would have preferred the stare he’d just given Quinn. “You’ve been reluctant to help us, Donovan, and yet your work is always superior. Your foresight, your perfectionism, these are traits I’ve passed down to you, whether you acknowledge it or not.”
“I have no doubt you’re my father.”
“Biologically, if not in other ways?”
Donovan stayed silent.
Parrish’s smile widened. “Yes! You see, Quinn? He does not rise to bait. You two could learn from him.”
“If only he were willing to teach us,” Quinn said with false sweetness.
“You could learn just by observing him. I am pleased.”
“You’re better suited to teach them,” Donovan said. “I don’t have your experience.”
“Of course you don’t,” Parrish said. “No one does.” He turned to Kai. “You’ll have to stay on the property for a time. Perhaps even indoors during the day.”
“Yes, sir,” Kai said.
“What of you and Quinn?” Parrish asked Donovan. “Any renewed police interest?”
“Not since the first questioning.”
Quinn shrugged. “I was, of course, shocked that any of my properties had been put to such foul use and have taken appropriate security measures since.”
“Both of you must be extremely careful now, but I need not say more on that subject. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be with individuals who truly understand me.” He turned to Quinn. “I believe you have a special treat for Donovan before we begin the next phase of our plans?”
Quinn gave a little bow and slid one pale hand into his jacket.
Donovan watched him but didn’t show any particular excitement over what could have been a reach for a weapon. He was certain he could outdraw, evade fire, and aim better than Quinn.
Quinn smiled as he handed over a disk in a slender plastic jewel case. “You can watch it here, if you’d like, on Kai’s computer.”
“I’ll wait,” Donovan said, tucking it inside his own jacket.
“I’m surprised you care,” Kai said, watching this exchange.
Donovan stared at him. “I don’t.” He turned to Parrish. “If that’s all?”
“The security system?”
“No use having cameras if you aren’t going to monitor them. Otherwise-Well, I’m sure you’ve already implemented other defenses.”
“Yes,” Parrish said, but Donovan saw a bit of doubt in his eyes. Parrish quickly went on. “Well, then, no need to delay your return. You’ll have new instructions soon.”
Donovan gave an acknowledging nod and stood.
The others stayed seated and silent as he left.
Donovan supposed that idiot Kai was going to watch the monitors now that he was on his way out. He had considered and rejected the idea of going upstairs to visit Violet, something that always seemed to make Quinn and Parrish uneasy, even though Kai almost always accompanied him.
“She can’t communicate,” Parrish had once said. “She can’t move. What do you find so fascinating about her?”
“The same thing you do,” Donovan had replied, always willing to lie to his father. “Her helplessness.”
Parrish had laughed, and Donovan had known then that he had inadvertently told at least half the truth-that was part of why Parrish kept her around.
Donovan thought of her now, as he made his way back to his car. She would be lying in the dark in a windowless room upstairs, receiving very few visits from anyone other than Kai.
He wondered if Parrish had brought her to the mountains as a living reminder of the fate that had nearly been his own.
TWENTY-FIVE
Nicholas Parrish strolled down a pathway leading to an empty cabin. He walked slowly, apparently relaxed, but anger flowed through every inch of his veins. He was fully aware that Kai and Quinn were not fooled by his show of nonchalance, a fact that led to his further irritation with both them and himself.
Something had changed. Not all that many years ago, he was completely master of himself and anyone he chose to dominate.
But then came the injury.
He thought of it now as the injury, even though it was hardly the first time he had been wounded. Before the end of his first few years of childhood, he had become a specialist in enduring pain. Every now and then, memories of those years broke through carefully constructed mental barriers and into his consciousness. They always made him feel a kind of burning rage, for which he had found only one remedy.
Those experiences, he knew, would have destroyed a lesser man.
Injury was not, therefore, something he feared. He had grown taller and stronger and eventually turned on his torturer and repaid her in kind. Many years had passed before he again sustained any serious wound.
Most he had obtained in the course of his hunting. There were those moments-those beautiful, thrilling moments-when he first took hold of a victim. Quite often, those were also the moments in which he suffered minor injuries. He thought longingly now of several of his victims, considered them one by one, reliving that first contact with each: grasping and pulling her against him, her panic as she struggled ineffectively against his superior strength. They were dangerous, those moments before she was completely subdued, because those were the ones in which, despite all his careful planning, there was a slight chance she might escape. So he endured bites, bruises, scratches, kicks-whatever might occur during those struggles-knowing he could withstand much more pain than any victim was likely to try to deal to him.
And then Irene Kelly changed the game.
Even before the injury to his spine, she had been responsible for a serious wound to his shoulder. Had he been an ordinary man, that would have been his undoing. The wound had become infected and caused him a great deal of trouble. That had angered him-surprised him, even-but he had not doubted his ability to achieve revenge.
And then, a few months later, disaster. For the first time in his life, he had failed to kill his intended victims. It should have been easy, doing away with her and her crippled friend. The failure had nearly led to his death.
He felt the bitterness of that failure as he recalled it, replayed it again and again in his mind. Irene Kelly. She had been the one who caused him to be so severely injured-a second time! And worse than the first.
Where was his old self-confidence, his invincibility?
No. He must not let himself fall prey to self-doubt. That would be what anyone else would do.
He was… resurrected. Stronger than ever.
He had studied other killers. He had studied criminal profiling. He knew all the assumptions the police, the FBI, and others were making. Men of his type-they believed they had seen his “type” before-were supposed to work alone, or with one dominated accomplice. He smiled to himself at the thought of their current bafflement.
The smile didn’t last long. His thoughts had circled back to Kai and Quinn.
He anticipated inevitable problems with each of his sons-lions never remained cubs, and only a fool tried to make pets of them. Kai had not matured enough to control his impetuous nature. Quinn was so power-hungry, he’d find world domination to be nothing more than a good start. And Donovan…