Dangerous Lovers (102 page)

“Shit,” Pete breathed. Dinah opened her eyes to meet his.

“I know,” she said. “My gift, as my family liked to call it, was our big secret and I had gone and let it slip to the worst person possible. Roman shot my mother and brought me to Ludwig that same day. I knew it was the only way I was getting out of that house alive. I’ve been with them ever since.”

Pete stiffened. “He shot your mom right in front of you?”

Dinah nodded. “You know what the sad thing is? I didn’t even care at the time. I’m not even sure I care now. A part of me misses her, but I’m still so angry that she was willing to let me die for the sake of my father. Neither of them cared about anything else but themselves. I still hate them both for it.”

“Is that why you stayed with Ludwig? Out of anger?”

Dinah hesitated then nodded. “The best way I could get back at my father and everything he stood for was to be the greatest weapon to his enemy. I wasn’t ready to die that day, and Roman saved me from it. I guess I’ve always felt like I owed him for it.”

Pete angled his head so he could kiss her gently on the lips. “I’m sorry all that happened to you.”

Dinah looked at him in surprise. “I’ve spent the last five years hurting your cause – why are you apologizing?” she asked.

“Because sometimes our hardest decisions are made for us. I don’t think you’re fully accountable for the things you did back then. You were only what, sixteen?”

She nodded.

“You were a sixteen year old girl who just saw her mother die and was betrayed by her father. I’d be angry and bitter too. Who knows what I would have done if I had been in the same position.”

“Really? You really believe that? You don’t hate me?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I could ever hate you. I just think it’s sad.”

She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t want you to feel pity for me.”

Pete laughed. “I don’t. I would never pity you, for fear of my life.”

She grinned. “Good. At least you know.”

She laid her head back down, cuddling in to his side.

“Just so you know,” he said softly, “if it were me, I would have done anything and everything to come back and save you. I would never stop.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

Roman waited outside the apartment. He had followed Bridgette home the night before. Thankfully she hadn’t come back here, or he probably would have followed her up and killed the guy right then. The sun was just rising now as he stood across the street, keeping an eye on the front door. Hopefully the son of a bitch wasn’t a late riser. He really didn’t feel like waiting around all day for him.

As if answered by some unspoken command, the door opened and out he walked, wearing those same pajama pants and no shirt. A dark haired figure was behind him, and Roman’s gut instantly turned. Had Bridgette come here after all? How had he missed it? Then the person stepped out fully and Roman froze in disbelief. Lottey stood on the street, her hair piled on the top of her head like she just woke up and threw it into a bun. She smiled up at the guy and Roman literally thought he was going to be sick.

Even from where he stood, there was no question that Lottey had feelings for the guy. Roman wasn’t sure just how deep they were, but from the way she was looking at him, he guessed they were pretty strong. The guy was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world. It made Roman want to break something. They kissed, the guy’s hands gripping her waist firmly as she went up on her toes to meet him. When they finally broke apart, Lottey waved at him saying she’d see him later.

Roman didn’t hear all of the guy’s response, but what he did make out chilled his blood. He called her ‘his little X’. Did he know who she really was? Roman’s heart raced. Had she told him? How long had he known? He watched the guy watch Lottey until she was gone and he went back inside. Roman didn’t know what to do, but he was pretty sure Lottey hadn’t been getting information from him like she was supposed to. There was no way she was faking her feelings just to get intel. That was obvious enough from the look on his face. Well, Roman told himself, looks like you need to take matters into your own hands. He flipped open his cell and made the call. This was getting settled – today.

Chapter Twenty-One

Pete stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. When he walked out of the bedroom to get another cup of coffee, he stopped in surprise.

“I gave you that key for emergencies,” he said. “Not so you could just let yourself in whenever you felt like it.”

“In my defense,” Seamus said, taking a sip out of the mug he was holding, “I did knock first.”

Pete shook his head, walking again. He went over to grab the pot off the wood stove and saw it was now empty. He looked over at Seamus. “Seriously, mate?”

Seamus smiled widely, taking another sip. Pete growled, slamming the pot back down. He leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Nice towel,” Seamus commented dryly. “You planning on getting dressed anytime soon?”

“I wanted to have a cup of
coffee
first, but I guess that’s not going to happen now, is it?”

“It will if you make more.”

Pete rolled his eyes.

“What are we doing today?”

Pete shrugged, pushing off and heading toward the bedroom as he talked. “No idea. We should probably head over to St. Anne’s. See what the good ol’ General has up his sleeves now. I don’t want to give that man too much space. He’s up to no good.”

“You mean more than usual?”

Pete put on some jeans and walked back out as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. “He’s definitely got something in the works. He won’t tell me, which makes me think he knows I’m not going to like it.”

“That guy has serious–” BANG. The front door slammed against the wall as ten armed soldiers filed into the room, guns pointed at them. Pete looked around quickly for his gun.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” an amused voice came from the hall. Roman Adamson walked in slowly, watching Pete. “Well look what we found here, boys. A rat’s nest.”

Pete clenched his jaw, his hands fisted at his side. “What are you doing here, Adamson?”

“Take a wild guess,” he replied wryly. “I hope you two didn’t have much planned for the day, because you’re about to go on a little trip. Cuff them.”

Pete stood still as a solider approached him, wrenching his arms back painfully. He made the cuffs too tight, which Pete was sure wasn’t an accident.

“How did you know where I live?” Pete asked, ignoring the other soldier that was pushing him forward. They stopped so Pete was just in front of Roman.

He smiled slowly. “A little birdie told me.”

Dinah. No way. Pete didn’t believe it for a second. She wouldn’t do this to him. The solider pushed him out the door roughly, and down the stairs to a waiting SUV parked along the curb. Seamus was thrown in after him. He looked to Pete, eyes wide with fear.

“We’re in deep shit,” Seamus whispered.

“Looks like it,” Pete said, looking out the window.

Pete was watching where they were going and it didn’t take long for him to realize they weren’t heading toward headquarters. He was both relieved and sad about that. As much as he didn’t want Dinah to know or see what was happening to him, he was also kind of hoping they’d go there so he could see her once more. He didn’t believe Roman. Dinah would never have told him willingly where Pete lived. The only reason Roman said that was to make him doubt her, and Pete refused to.

The SUV turned and headed out to a deserted part of town. Not encouraging, Pete thought. A large warehouse came into view, its windows broken behind the bars on the outside, the grey stone crumbing in certain parts. The buildings around it were also empty. Destroyed even more so than the warehouse. The perfect place to bring two people one plans to torture. Unease slithered up his spine as he shifted in his seat. The possibility of seeing the end of this day seemed less and less likely as they went.

The driver stopped the SUV in front of two steel doors and exited the vehicle. Roman followed from the passenger side. Pete’s door opened and hands yanked him out. He blinked against the bright sunlight. “Time to night-night,” the solider said. Pain erupted from the back of his head. Black spots dotted his vision and then everything went dark.

His wrists ached and he couldn’t feel his hands. Pete groaned, rolling his head back. A cold splash of water hit his face a second before a hand slapped his cheek three quick times.

“Wake up,” a voice commanded.

Pete blinked his eyes open and tried to move his hands. His arms were lifted above him, resting against the sides of his head. When he tried to move them, the sound of metal clanging together had him looking up. He was chained to the ceiling, his hands lifted over his head. His feet weren’t chained down, but he couldn’t move far. He looked around, taking stock.

They were inside the warehouse now. It was empty, aside from a few forgotten chairs and empty boxes. Trash littered the floor as if everyone ran out so fast, they didn’t even have time to pick up their papers as they went. Soldiers stood around them, their faces expressionless, guns held ready at their sides. When he looked forward he sucked in a quick breath. Seamus sat on a chair, his hands and feet bound. From the way his head was fallen forward, Pete guessed he was still passed out.

“Welcome back,” Roman’s voice spoke from behind him. Pete listened to his footsteps before he came into view.

“What do you want?” Pete gritted.

Roman tilted his head to the side, observing him. “Our sources tell us that there is a main location where your kind gathers.”

“What kind? Regular working, blue collared folk? ‘Cause yeah we do, it’s called the pub. You’ve been there, remember?”

Roman clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Always the smart ass.” He shook his head. “You know what kind I mean. And you’re going to tell me where I can find it, or your friend here is going to pay the price of your silence.”

Pete smiled. “Mate, even if I had something to tell you, I wouldn’t.” He spat at his feet. “Go to hell.”

“I wonder if your friend will appreciate your stubbornness as much as I do.” Roman turned his back, signalling to one of the soldiers who stepped forward and woke Seamus up the same way they had him. Pete watched as his best friend struggled to move then realization set in. Their eyes met. Pete felt sick at what he saw there.

“Tell me,” Roman said to Seamus. “Your friend here seems to have lost his memory, but perhaps yours is a little clearer.” He crouched down in front of the chair, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “Where is the rebel headquarters?”

Seamus glanced at Pete quickly before looking back at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman grunted. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He motioned with his head. Two soldiers walked up, flexing their hands. Pete struggled against his chains to no avail. The first one landed a punch right in Seamus’ stomach. His friend bent over as much as he could from the way he was tied up, air rushing out of his lungs. The next hit was right to the kidneys. They took turns, each hitting vulnerable spots on Seamus’ torso. Never once did he cry out.

“Your memory getting any better?” Roman asked.

Seamus looked up and smiled. “Nope.”

A fist hit him right across his left cheek. His head whipped to the side violently. Blood oozed from a cut along his cheekbone, and another on his lip. Another hit from the right side had his head whipping the other way, both sides bleeding. Roman turned to Pete.

“What about you?”

Pete looked at Seamus, dread filling him. They couldn’t talk. It was the number one rule. No matter what, you didn’t talk. His best friend was sitting there taking a beating, both eyes now closed and puffy, and there was nothing he could do about it. Pete looked at Roman and just shook his head. He didn’t trust his voice right now. Hate so strong was burning in his gut. Roman Adamson was a dead man if he lived through this.

The soldiers continued their beating. The sound of flesh on flesh was the only noise in the warehouse, aside from Seamus’ grunts and the clanging of Pete’s chains. He paced in the small area allowed to him, his breathing coming out harsh and fast.

Seamus’ head lolled forward like he no longer had the strength to keep it up on his own. A distressed whine escaped Pete’s mouth, a sound he had never made in his life. Wet, hot tears leaked out the corner of his eyes.

Roman stopped them, turning to Pete quizzically. “How about now?”

Pete looked at Roman, pleading silently with his eyes. The man just lifted his eyebrows in question. Pete looked back at his friend, a heavy weight in his chest. Was he going to have to stand here and watch his best friend be beaten to death? There would be no recovering from that. How could he ever move on knowing he did nothing to save him? But what the rebels fought for was bigger than the two of them. There was no way he could rat them out. He looked back at Roman and shook his head once.

“Knuckles, I think,” Roman said. Pete’s head snapped back to the soldiers around Seamus, and saw them slip brass knuckles onto their first.