“Anderson's got your precious granddaughter. Don't you worry. The psychics are out of it. And Reynolds is bleeding out as we speak. You do what we tell you, and everyone will live.”
Kisho growled, and his claws appeared.
“Morgan is fine.” Jesse frowned. “But he said to hurry up, or he’s going to drain more energy than his kitsu had planned to give up tonight. Oh hell, is that love talk for sex?”
Kisho coughed and flushed, but Alicia could see the relief he tried to hide.
Obviously Morgan was well enough to heal himself once Kisho found him again. The pair could exchange energy in a way she still found amazing, after all she had seen in this world.
“It's okay, Kisho.” Alicia had finally accepted that their vision would come to pass. And now that it had, she felt much better about the possible outcome. She and Lonnie had shared truths yesterday, and she understood how fortunate she was to have someone so trusting and loving in her corner. “Jules, Kisho, Jesse, I want you to be calm and do everything they tell you to.”
“No shit, lady. We’re the ones with the guns and the claws.” As one the rogues held up one the new Circ 1000s. With them, Circs could be taken down in one shot, since the specially crafted rounds penetrated deeper into Circ skin than the other weapons they'd used.
“How nice for you.” She smiled and secretly handed Lonnie her own version of the gun she'd had hidden in her desk drawer for just this occasion, though hers was filled with tranquilizers. Mentally, she warned the others, “Get ready, men.” The Circs tensed, and the rogues responded.
“Now!”
In seconds, Jules, Kisho, and Jesse had disarmed three of the four rogues.
Lonnie shot the fourth, then continued shooting the others until all the rogues were down.
“I'll check on the others.” Kisho and Jesse left in a rush.
Jules stood with Lonnie. They exchanged a long glance, and Alicia smiled.
“Go ahead, Lonnie. I'd try to talk you out of this, but I know you won't be budged.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, Alicia. But it's for your own good. If I didn't, you'd make a mess of Anderson. You're too close to this.”
“I could promise I'd stay right here.”
Jules and the admiral exchanged another glance.
“Shoot her,” Jules said. The traitor. “Sorry, Mrs. Sharpe. But even you can't expect us to believe you'd sit tight while we take care of Anderson.” She didn't plan to let them shoot her. But before she could move, Lonnie pulled the trigger. Jules caught her as she fell and gently laid her on the couch.
“Don't worry. You'll be just fine, honey,” she heard Lonnie whisper. He kissed her gently on the cheek.
“T-traitor.”
Jules chuckled. “Yep. You can thank us later.”
Tersch glared at Anderson, trying to decide if he should rip the man's head off or just break his neck. He didn't want to dirty the floor mats, but they'd scrubbed blood out of them before. He refused to let his fear for Ava get the better of him. He knew what she was capable of, and he trusted her to stay out of harm's way while he handled Anderson.
“You, Tersch. Come here.”
Ava's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. “No, stay here.” The woman worried for him? His beast liked his mate's concern but felt it unnecessary.
“I'll be fine.”
“Like Alicia was fine?” she said, obviously hinting at something he didn't understand. He was having a hard enough time reining in his beast and berserker.
Both of them wanted to emerge and torture Anderson for putting his mate in harm's way.
“I said come here.” Anderson shot a hole into the wall a few feet above Ava's head. “I'm fast, and I never miss.”
Tersch grit his teeth, held on to his beast, and approached Anderson.
“That's far enough.”
Not for what Tersch had planned. He knocked Anderson's gun away and started choking the fucker. “You don't threaten my mate and live,” he growled.
Anderson clutched at Tersch's hands, but instead of trying to break free, he stroked along the outside of Tersch's knuckles. And in that moment, Tersch understood why Ava hadn't wanted him in reach of their enemy.
Unable to help himself, Tersch looked into Anderson's eyes.
The dark blue swirled, a mirror of himself, and he allowed his own rage to pour through. Yes, he was angry that the woman constantly tried to manipulate him. The lies, the deceit. Sharpe and her smart-mouthed granddaughter. Trying to trick him, to control him.
He shook his head, aware he'd dropped Anderson and was growing. Stronger, taller. More powerful than he'd ever been. He ripped through his clothes as the berserker came out to play.
“That's right. Good. You lead, I follow,” Anderson murmured. “Now you wanted to get rid of the woman first. You said something about fucking her to death. A secret fantasy of yours. I'll stand watch right here, at your command.”
“My command.” Tersch liked that, but the rest didn't sound right.
“Look at her, Gunnar. She's your enemy. She lied to you. She wants to control you. See how she teases, wearing hardly anything at all? The sight of her nipples, her dark flesh so temping to anyone male?”
Tersch shook his head. That didn't seem right. But he couldn't argue the fact that a gorgeous woman wore nothing more than a T-shirt in front of him and his faithful guard.
“Do it,” Anderson whispered, and Tersch's head pounded.
He stepped toward the woman, and his headache increased. His course had been set for him. He had a plan, a need to fulfill his obligations and take down this seductress before she tempted other men down a path of ruin.
Like his goddamn mother. Bitch. Always telling me what to do! Tricked me into marriage, all because of you! He could see his father yelling and pointing at him. The slaps, the rages…
An echo of violence sent shivers down his spine. He hastened his step, prepared to do anything to stop history from repeating itself. No more innocents left to suffer, no more deaths at the hands of deceitful affection.
He stared at the woman, bemused by her extraordinary allure. So beautiful, so treacherous. Her heat signature flared, full of power and mystery.
He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything, and it scared him.
She scared him.
“That's right. End her before she ends you. Take what's yours, Gunnar.” The distant voice encouraged him.
“I don't need you telling me what to fucking do,” he roared at his father. “I'm not yours anymore.”
“I'm sorry,” the distant voice apologized.
Sorry, sorry. Always sorry, Frederik. You little piece of shit.
Tersch tackled the woman to the ground, waiting for her pleas of mercy, her tears of terror.
Instead, she cupped his cheek. “I love you, Gunnar. No matter what.” The soft words pierced the fog of his mind.
“She's using you. Do it.”
Snap her neck. Break it. You know you can.
He leaned up to straddle her slim form. Tersch wrapped his hands around her neck, hands the same size as his father's. Behind him, he heard a gunshot, then nothing more. The sounds of the other males made little sense.
His gaze was glued to the woman under him. She closed her eyes and turned her head, offering him her submission. Giving. He couldn't take what had been willingly given.
“Mine,” he snarled and squeezed.
“Tersch, no!” Male voices. Shouts at him to stop.
Something pricked his shoulder. Strong hands tried to pry him away, and he batted them back. He left the woman and made short work of the two males trying to shoot him with an ineffectual gun. Once he'd knocked both of them unconscious and verified that the other male who smelled wrong lay unmoving, he returned to her.