A Life Earthbound (35 page)

Thousands of miles away, he took a shot of whiskey in some dank, run down bar and silently thanked the Devil for inventing gossip. What better way could a man get all the latest news on his familiars and his enemies than by mingling with those whose tongues wagged the most? It was disgustingly easy, not to mention extraordinarily entertaining.

Especially since he had learned quite a few interesting bits of information in his short hour long probing session, having only been back stateside a couple of hours. Already he’d heard word that the lead Enforcer’s son had been murdered and that a few members of the Council were at the top of the suspect list.

How thrilling it was to watch the empire crumble upon itself, he thought with a cold, wicked grin. There might not be much left for him to destroy after all, if this Enforcer was as ruthless as he had heard. According to the demons he’d talked to, Burke Callahan was not known for showing any mercy to those he captured.

He could only imagine the horrors Callahan would subject to those accused of murdering his only son. Just thinking about it made him giddy with sick excitement.

It felt good to be home, now that he knew they were no longer looking for him. They had plenty of problems of their own and the timing could not have been better.

Soon he’d have them under his thumb where they belonged, once and for all. They’d pay, every last one of them, until nothing was left of Euphora except dust.

If he’d learned one thing from his travels, it was that there was evil in every corner of this world that could be harnessed and used against those who foolishly thought themselves untouchable. From the deep, uncharted jungles of the Amazon to the primeval, crumbling castles of eastern Europe, evil lurked and lay in wait for someone to release it.

Dante was more than willing to oblige.

Burke took his son’s body back home to be autopsied by experts in the department. Because of his unprompted and rough interrogations of four members of the Council and an ex-Enforcer, he was not surprisingly given the cold shoulder by nearly everyone on Euphora. His only ally, it seemed, was Serendipity. And few could understand her fervent belief that her own daughter was responsible for Michael’s death. However, until the autopsy was finished and more viable evidence was gathered, no one would be charged with the murder.

And so Burke left, appearing determined and angry, but much more reasonable than he had been in the hours following his arrival on Euphora. He assured them that he would be back to conduct more questioning, but only after the autopsy was completed. Until then, he’d grieve in his own home and comfort his wife.

Euphora was, as expected, a somber place in the days that followed the mysterious murder. Curious and cautious whispers could be heard all hours of the day, speculating and theorizing over what could have possibly happened. It was only natural, Rhiannon supposed, that the people of Euphora would look at her and wonder. Certainly no one could argue that she indeed had the most to gain from Michael’s death.

But what they didn’t realize was that she had the most to lose, as well.

Michael’s death had broken apart her family, with her and her father on one side, and her mother and Sierra on the other. Her parents were not speaking to one another, nor were they even sleeping in the same room. And while she knew her father had finally found his freedom, it still hurt her to see him suffering, worrying constantly over what would happen to her if somehow Burke could prove she had murdered Michael. There was little he could do to help her if that happened, and that helplessness and uncertainty was hurting him yet again.

And what none of the others had considered, or could possibly even understand, was that Rhiannon did in fact feel sorry that Michael had died. They seemed to be quick to assume that she was, in many ways, glad that the marriage she had not wanted in the first place would now not come to fruition, but none of them seemed to want to believe that she could actually feel sorry over it.

But the truth was she did. Maybe she hadn’t liked Michael, had been insulted by him time and time again and had certainly wanted nothing to do with him. But the last conversation they had in the courtyard had opened her eyes to the good in him, had shown her that he was more than just arrogant and insulting. He had cared about his mother enough to go along with everything his father told him to do, despite how much he didn’t want to, all because he knew she would be happier because of it. He knew that if he caused a rift between his father and him, that his mother would be the one to suffer. How could she not have admired that quality in him, not have recognized his selflessness, as least in this one manner?

But none of that seemed to matter now. All she could do was deal with the hushed whispering, the spreading rumors and gossiping, and pray that the truth would be uncovered as soon as possible.

She was surprised, but pleased, to note that Liam did in fact stay distant from her, more out of spiteful hurt than compliance with her wishes. But what did it matter, so long as he wouldn’t be subjected to the same terrible scrutiny she was experiencing. She would spare him and Brogan and the others that at all costs.

On the third evening after discovering Michael’s body, Rhiannon went to bed in a strange and oddly anxious mood. She couldn’t say what it was about the tension that sparked in the air all around her, but it had her skin crawling and her mind restlessly wandering. Something bad was coming, but she had no idea just how bad it was.

But when she was startled out of sleep in the dead of night, a damp cloth clamped tight over her nose and mouth and a tall, silhouetted figure standing over her, she felt true, unadulterated fear like nothing she’d ever experienced.

And as she drifted dizzyingly into unconsciousness, the only thing she could think was that Burke Callahan had come to collect his revenge.

She awoke some
time later, groggy and disoriented, her vision blurred and her body immobile. She wondered deliriously if she was paralyzed, her body weaker than her mind seemed to think it was. In her confusion, she swore she was telling her arms to move, and her legs to kick out. But her body was simply too weak to respond to the request.

It wasn’t until she was able to blink her vision clear, and lift her head enough to glance around her that she understood herself to be simply bound and gagged. Not that this was a more welcome alternative to being paralyzed. If anything, being bound and still alive meant he wasn’t finished with her.

Fighting back the first wave of fear, she struggled against the bonds at her wrists, ropes that were wound tightly around not only her, but the wooden chair she was sitting in as well. Her feet were also bound, which would explain why she couldn’t move them. But, thankfully, her eyes were uncovered.

The room she was in appeared to be some kind of underground basement, with a sofa and a television set, along with a billiards table and stereo set up. Posters hung on the walls depicting various crime thriller movies and boxing champions, along with an entire wall filled with awards and trophies. The walls were paneled walnut, and the carpet at her feet was dense and a sickening shade of olive green. In front of her were stairs that led up to a single door, probably leading to the main floor. She stared at the door, suddenly hearing a shuffling noise on the other side of it.

It opened and Burke emerged, shutting the door swiftly behind him. He stared down at her for a moment, meeting her eyes, and flashed a quick, maniacal grin that had her blood chilling several degrees.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up,” he commented as he descended the stairs, his hands trailing down the railing, his eyes never leaving hers. “Chloroform is such a useful little tool, don’t you think?”

Behind her gag, she kept silent, not wanting to encourage him. She knew that the likelihood of him releasing her, especially after her having known he was the one who took her, was slim to none. No, she would likely die here in this miserable basement, with its horrid carpet and testosterone filled memorabilia. What a shameful ending…and for what? For a murder she hadn’t even committed…now she knew how Brock had felt, being accused of something he hadn’t done. Of course, Brock’s life had never been in danger. But her life undeniably was.

“Rhiannon…” Burke approached her until he was standing just feet away, his arms crossed over his chest and his head shaking sadly. “So beautiful…so deadly.”

Without warning he suddenly reached out and struck her hard across the face, whipping her head around with a sickening crack. She winced from the stinging pain, her eyes watering pitifully and her chest heaving from the shock to her system.

When she managed to look at him again, he was no longer smiling. Now he just looked mean.

“You killed my son,” he snarled, fury in his eyes. “My legacy, my child. Don’t you see he was all I had?”

She tried to shake her head, wanting to scream to him that she didn’t do it, that she was innocent.

“He didn’t deserve to die, not like this. He was supposed to carry on the Callahan name, to join with me in cementing our legacy in the books of history. But you saw to it that that wouldn’t happen, didn’t you?”

Wanting a response from her, he ripped the gag from her mouth and smacked her again, this time cutting her lip and drawing blood. She let out a shuddering breath, too afraid now to look at him.

“Damnit, why? Why did you do this?” Burke demanded, miserable grief flashing through the hate he felt. He covered his face in his hands and let out an anguished cry so filled with angst and sorrow that the sound of it penetrated her to the bone.

Uncertain what he was going to do, she kept her mouth shut despite the gag having been removed. He looked insane and one wrong word could have him ripping her head off. No, she had to find some way to distract him, some way to free herself from these bonds…

Then it occurred to her, an idea so brilliantly obvious she nearly wept with relief at having thought of it. But just how could she pull it off without him noticing…

As if by fate, the doorbell rang hollowly from upstairs. Burke turned and looked in the direction of the front door, his brow furrowing with concern and worry.

“Who in the hell could that be…” he muttered to himself, stalking up the stairs and slamming the door behind him.

Seeing her chance, Rhiannon pulled apart her hands as best she could behind her, spreading her fingers out as she shut her eyes and concentrated on the floor beneath the vile green carpet. It was a long shot, but if she could make it work then she could get home.