Love Like Blood: (Royal Blood #5) (11 page)

I
watched
Vaughn tie the unconscious Ballinger onto a chair in the shed behind the cottage, my mind mulling over the questions I needed to ask.

I needed to get close enough to Lafayette to bag him. Close as in right up in his face. I needed to know the truth, and if it was everything that I was led to believe, then I’d dismantle his organization so he could never harm another woman again. Then I’d torture the fucker to death over months. I’d lock him up in complete darkness and inflict pain so terrible he would beg me for release.

I supervised Vaughn as he wrapped duct tape around Ballinger’s ankles, fastening him to the legs of the chair we’d brought in from the house. He did the same to his wrists until I was satisfied he was secure.

“Leave us,” I said.

“
Lorelei
,” Vaughn began, pissed that I was pushing him out of the hunt once again.

“Go inside the house,” I snapped.

“I don’t trust—”

“You don’t trust me?” I exclaimed, turning on him.

“No,” he hissed. “I don’t trust
him
.”

“This isn’t my first interrogation, Vaughn.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I will get what we need,” I said dryly. “You’re a distraction. To him and to me.”

He scoffed but kept his mouth shut.

“I will be fine,” I added, crossing my arms over my chest.

The door to the shed slammed closed, and a moment later, I heard him do the same to the back door of the cottage. He’d get over it soon enough.

I raked my gaze over Ballinger and found him wanting, his exterior making my skin crawl. He looked slimy, his skin yellowish and dotted with freckles that were borderline moles. His hair was greasy, and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles that made him look like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He was the kind of man people avoided on the street and refused to sit next to on the bus. I bet he stunk like stale sweat, too.

He looked like a slimy rat, but underneath all of that, he was a kidnapper and a rapist. Scum. Filth. Poison.

Twenty minutes passed, and he was still unconscious, the drive out of London to the cottage doing nothing to rouse him after the blow to the head I’d given him. Tired of waiting, I picked up the bucket of water and heaved it up, tipping the entire contents over his head. That ought to do the trick.

He spluttered and shook his head, his eyes flying open. “What? Where?” Then his gaze seemed to clear and fix on mine.

“You’re the bitch that jumped me on the street,” he said.

“Would you like a gold star, asshole?” I said, rolling my eyes.

He eyed me warily, knowing exactly how much shit he was in. His breath billowed out in front of him, the cold air and the dampness of his clothes making him shiver.

“We’re going to have a nice chat, you and I,” I said, pulling my gun from where I’d stashed it in the waistband of my jeans.

“I’m going to save you the effort,” Ballinger said with a sneer. “I’m not talking. I know what I’m worth.”

“What you’re worth is nothing.” Nothing but food for the worms in the back garden.

He took a deep breath and strained against his restraints, obviously testing the limits of his bonds and his chances of escape. He could try all he liked, but I was in control here. When I got to this stage with a target, it was game over. It was always game over. One hundred percent strike rate.

“I’ve been working on that girl for weeks,” he said, taking me by surprise. “Watching, taking note of her movements and those around her, waiting for the perfect moment. She was a beauty. Perfect skin, perfect little body. A pretty blonde like her would have fetched me a really nice price. Imagine her cunt.”

Snarling, I raised the butt of the gun and smashed it into his eye. His skin split open, and he began to laugh as blood seeped out of the wound.

“If you think you’re getting out of here unharmed, you have another thing coming,” I snapped.

“Then you better tell me what you want,
whore
, so I can sit here and keep my mouth shut.”

“Who were you taking the girl to?”

Ballinger stared at me, an infuriating smirk on his face.

Raising my hand, I stuck my fingernail into the wound I’d opened up above his eye and dug it into his flesh. He cried out and ripped his head away. “
Who?
”

“Damien Allaire.”

A middleman. The son of Julien Allaire. Word had it he’d taken over his daddy’s dealings after the man was found shot in the catacombs under Paris. I assumed that had been an Xavier Blood special considering the link Sykes had with the man. Both dead within a day of each other.

“Who works for?” I prodded.

Ballinger shivered violently, the cold starting to get to him. “Who do you think?
Lafayette
.”

“Did you ever meet with Lafayette face-to-face?”

His eyebrows rose. “You want Lafayette?” He laughed like the idea that a woman would be able to go after the infamous human trafficker was the most absurd joke he’d ever heard. “Not a chance.”

I slapped him hard around the mouth. “
Did you ever meet him?
”

Shaking his head, he spat on the floor, blood tingeing his lips. “No one meets Lafayette face-to-face. I only ever dealt with Allaire.”

This was way too easy. I had hardly touched the guy, and he was leaking information like a sieve.

Clicking the safety off, I knelt in front of Ballinger and pressed the barrel against the top of his right boot. “Last chance,” I said. “Tell me the truth, or you’re a fucking cripple. No more chasing innocent little girls, Ballinger.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No, no, no.
Don’t
.”

These dickheads were all the fucking same. They liked to inflict pain and stick their dicks where they weren’t wanted, but at the first sign of violence directed against themselves, they all fucking cried into their milk like babies.

“Allaire deals direct,” he cried, his face screwed up in anticipation of the bullet entering his foot. “Get in with him, and you’ve got a direct line.”

“How do I contact Allaire?” I asked, rising to my feet.

“We operate with code words,” he said, visibly relaxing. “You’ll never get close enough to breathe the same air as Lafayette without them.”

He didn’t think I had the ability to track Lafayette, let alone the smarts to get close. That’s where he was wrong. The promise of truth was the perfect motivator for someone like me. Someone who was losing their mind to the demons of a past long forgotten.

“Give me the codes,” I said. “Then we’ll see how close I can get.”

Ballinger clamped his mouth closed and stared at me, his gaze hard and cold. He wasn’t talking. Not without something to motivate him.

“What motivates you, Ballinger?” I asked, playing with the safety on the gun.

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t reply. I hadn’t expected him to.

“Is it money? Power? Or are you really that sick you need to snatch little girls off the street to make your cock hard?”

“
Bitch
.”

I smiled down at him. “I’ve been called much worse things, and your opinion of me doesn’t matter. You can curse all you like.”

“I’m still not telling you the code,
whore
. I can tell you everything else I know, but without it, you’re fucked.”

“
What’s the code word?
” I roared, shoving the muzzle against the side of his head.

“I know I’m dead, so what’s the point in giving it to you?” he asked, his jaw tense with defiance. “I can tease you with information, but is any of it true?”

“It’s how you die that counts,” I replied. “We can do this slowly with unbearable pain drawn out over days…or I can just end it with one bullet. How do you want to spend your final moments, Ballinger?”

“Do your worst,” he hissed. “I will die knowing I was loyal to the last.”

Shoving the gun into the waistband of my jeans, I turned to the table beside me. Running my fingers over the stock standard handyman tools, I selected a rather rusty looking nail file. Vaughn didn’t seem like a man who gave a shit about repairing things around the house, and judging by the state of the equipment out here, I suspected he hadn’t used them at all before they gave way to the elements.

Turning back to Ballinger, I weighted the file in my hands and cast my gaze over his body, trying to decide where I’d rasp his flesh off first. I had the sudden urge to file his filthy cock from his body. That would be the ultimate form of slow torture.

Standing before him, I pulled open the zipper on his trousers and shoved the file between his legs. He squirmed, his eyes widening as he realized what I meant to do.

My vision began to blur as I rasped the file against Ballinger’s dick, his cries of pain piercing my ears like a swan song of death. Filthy bastard. Let him use his cock on innocent women now.

Darkness. Filth. Pain. Vaughn would come. Vaughn would take me from this place. VAUGHN.

I blinked hard, light pulsing behind my eyes.

Hands I didn’t know touching, pulling, and kneading my flesh. Touching places that weren’t theirs to touch. Places I’d given solely to Vaughn.

I grasped my head—the file in my hands red with blood—as a splitting headache began to overwhelm my senses. Ballinger stared at me, confusion in his features.

Ballinger. Ballinger. Ballinger. Ballinger.

Ballinger’s face smiling down at me, barely illuminated in the murky light of my prison.

Ballinger. Ballinger. Ballinger.

I couldn’t stop him.

“I know you,” he said, his voice coming at me from the real world. “I didn’t pick it until I could see the pain on your face. You look different, but I know your cunt will be the same. Swee—”

With a cry, I struck him in the face with the file, the shock of the blow vibrating up my arm. His head snapped to the side, and I slapped the metal against his cheek and rasped it across his skin, tearing his flesh apart.

Ballinger screamed, half in rage and half in pain, as blood began to weep from his face.

“Your cock is next,” I said, shaking from the afterimage of my own nightmare. “I will file the putrid thing from your body so you will never be able to rape another woman again.” Pulling at his trousers, I shoved the file against his skin once more and began to saw. Up and down, up and down as he wailed like the pig he was.

“Give me the code word,” I hissed, sawing faster.

“
Âme
,” he cried. “
Âme.
”

Âme. The French word for soul. I couldn’t believe the irony.

Standing back, I left the file sticking out of his trousers and pulled the gun from behind my back. Hesitating, I wondered if I should hack his cock off, feed it to him, and leave him to bleed out in the agony he so readily deserved. I wondered what Vaughn would make of that. He hung people who crossed him, carving them with meticulous artistry, and I sawed their cocks off. It seemed crude in comparison, and crude was not my style.

Deciding to hold up my end of the bargain, I raised the gun and fired.

I
didn’t want
to leave Lorelei in there with Ballinger, but she’d insisted.

I went into the cottage knowing that I had to open a line with Hawkes again. It had been some time since I’d spoken to him, and I hoped he was still active, and the remains of Royal Blood hadn’t caught up with him yet. He was ten years my senior and was as cunning as a fucking fox. He had been around the block many times before he came into my service, so I didn’t doubt his skills for one second.

Dialing the contact number Lorelei had given me for Hawkes, I settled down on the couch as it began to ring. Providing Ballinger gave us a lead to Lafayette, we would need backup. My right-hand man had skills and contacts we could use in our hunt for Lafayette going forward. And we needed all the support we could get if we were going to bag and tag the guy alive.

“Hello?”

When he answered, I almost didn’t recognize his voice. The last two months was the longest I’d gone without talking to him since I’d brought him into my employ. He was the most loyal man I’d ever worked with, and I counted him as family, but that would never get in the way of what would happen to him if he ever turned. That was the life we lived.

“Hawkes?”

“Good to hear your voice again, Sir.”

“We’ve had some progress,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Have you got anything for me? I hope it’s good news.”

“Somewhat,” he replied. “I’ve been in contact with Xavier Blood.”

My eyebrows rose. “X? I thought he was off the radar.”

“He reached out to me. Seems like he and Mercy are working with MI6 now. Or at least a black ops division.”

“
Fuck
,” I hissed. That wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“It’s not all bad news,” Hawkes went on. “They’re currently off book even with their own organization. They want to help you and Lorelei take out Lafayette.”

“And you trust him?”

“After everything that went down in Bristol, I do.”

“They must want something,” I snapped. “Nothing’s for free, Hawkes. You know that. They’re working with fucking
Intelligence
. Since when did they grow consciences and run with the good guys? X was the baddest of the lot.”

“Since he found out his true identity.”

I hesitated. X had found out the truth about his past and had divulged it to Hawkes? Motherfucking
Hawkes
?

I wasn’t sure what to latch onto first. His current employment or his state of mind. If he’d gotten through what Lorelei was currently experiencing unscathed, then he might be able to help her. Dare I ask for a face-to-face with the ex-assassin without knowing his endgame?

“He found out who he was before?” I asked slowly. “And he told you?”

“Seems like he wants a little trust,” Hawkes replied. “There’s a reason he’s with MI6, Sir.”

“
Fuck
,” I hissed. X had been Intelligence from the start. Who knew where his loyalties lay then.

“I recommend setting up a meeting, Sir.”

“I trust you, Hawkes,” I shot back. “But I’m not so sure I trust them anymore. I take it Mercy went along for the ride as well?”

“Yes.”

I screwed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. I couldn’t do this shit, not with Lorelei currently torturing Ballinger out back. Fuck, why did X have to turn? We could’ve used him to bag Lafayette.

“I have to think about this,” I said.

“Understandable. I’ll hold position until you’re ready.”

“Where are you?”

“Someplace safe. Don’t worry about me.”

I sighed. “I’ll contact you if I need anything.”

“Sir.”

The line disconnected, and I tossed the phone onto the coffee table. That’s when I heard screaming coming from the shed. Male screaming that signaled Lorelei was getting her hands dirty.

Rising to my feet, I strode through the cottage, hoping she hadn’t taken things too far with Ballinger. We needed information; otherwise, we were stuck. Then I’d have no choice but to bring X and Mercy—and MI6, who would probably arrest us both—into this mess.

Shoving open the door to the shed, I paused when I saw the carnage, my expression fading from determination into horror. Lorelei was covered in blood, her eyes wild, looking like some kind of macabre devil.

“One hundred and thirty-five,” she muttered. “One hundred and thirty-five. One hundred and thirty-five. One hundred and thirty-five.”

A nasty looking nail file was sticking out of Ballinger’s trousers, his crotch dark with fresh blood. Fuck. She was trying to saw off his cock?
Jesus
.

There was a bullet wound in his head, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the guy was stone-cold dead. Glancing at Lorelei, I realized why she was muttering the same number over and over. One hundred and thirty-five
kills
.

She picked up a hunting knife from the bench and began hacking at Ballinger’s clothing.

“What are you doing?” I asked, wondering if she was having a complete mental breakdown. The one we’d been trying our best to avoid.

“You have to help me,” she said, brandishing the knife.

“Help you with what?” I asked, watching as she picked up the man’s limp arm. When she began hacking at his flesh, my mouth dropped open.

“We need to get rid of the body,” she said as if she was taking a stroll in the park. “I have a vat of acid in the shed.”

She was going to hack the guy up and dissolve the pieces in
acid
? When did she get acid? That was fucked up even for me.

“Lorelei,” I murmured as the sickly stench of blood filled the air. “Stop. Look at what you’re doing.”

“I don’t need to stop,” she said like I was mad. “I can’t leave any traces behind.”

“And we won’t, but you don’t have to go this far. We’re safe here. We can take our time.”

She ignored me and turned to the rack of tools against the wall. Dropping the knife, it clattered onto the concrete, and she selected a pair of hedge clippers.

Realizing she was stuck in some kind of psychosis, I stepped forward and grabbed the shears.

“Stop,” I hissed, wrenching them from her grasp. “Come back, Lorelei. Don’t let them win.”

Her gaze met mine, and she blinked once before staring at Ballinger’s corpse. Slowly, her expression crumpled, and I knew awareness was flooding back into her mind.

“Oh God,” she whispered. Holding up her hands, she stared at the blood that coated her skin, tears beginning to collect in her eyes. “
Oh God
.”

I set the shears on the bench and held my arms open. “Come.”

She sank against me, a sob bursting forth. “I didn’t… I didn’t…”

“Shh,” I murmured, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, okay?”

“But—” she complained.

“Leave it to me,” I said, glancing back at the corpse. “Don’t think about it. I’ll take care of it all.”

“You won’t leave a trace?”

I frowned as she buried her face against my chest and breathed deeply. “Not a speck.”

Guiding her into the house, I took her upstairs and ran a hot bath, tipping some sweet-smelling soap underneath the tap. Lorelei stood and watched me with a vacant expression, allowing me to strip her of her bloodstained clothing without complaint. She didn’t utter a word, and I feared she was either going into shock or retreating into her own mind where I would have no chance of drawing her out again.

When the bath was ready, I helped her step into the tub, and she sank into the water, the clear liquid instantly tingeing red. Rolling up my sleeves, I retrieved a face washer and scrubbed her skin.

“Vaughn?” she whispered.

I paused. “Yeah?”

Her hands emerged from the water and gripped the sides of the bath, her knuckles turning white. “My father was right.”

Instantly, my skin prickled with a coldness that was akin to uncontrollable rage. My jaw tightened, but I didn’t say anything. I just resumed my gentle movements, caressing the blood off her skin.

“Ballinger was one of them,” she whispered, her voice sounding oddly disembodied.

Understanding her reaction when saving that girl at the bus stop and then again in the shed, I just nodded and cupped her face, dabbing the damp cloth against her cheek. The man who’d caused her pain was dead, but it was only one of them. There was still the greatest asshole of them all, and we would get him, no matter how long it took. Until then, Lorelei came first.

Coaxing her from the bath, I helped her out and wrapped a towel around her body, drying the water from her etched skin. I took in the details of her tattoos, picking out each little symbol entwined into the larger patterns.

“What do they mean?” I asked, trying to keep her mind from withdrawing into the nightmare that had been brought to the surface.

“Protection,” she said, her eyes drooping.

Deciding not to press her further, I discarded the towel and pulled the plug out of the tub. The water drained away, taking the stain of Ballinger’s blood with it.

In the bedroom, I pulled one of my T-shirts over her head and bade her to climb into bed and under the covers. Changing out of my own stained clothes, I slid in beside her, and her hands instantly found their way around my waist and held on tight.

It didn’t feel right to delight in the fact that she wanted me even though it was what I wanted from the beginning. Instead, I let her cling to me and take comfort in my presence, the notion of triumph never entering my mind.

“
Âme,
” she whispered.

“What?”

“
Âme,
” she said again. “The code word to get to Lafayette.”

So she’d gotten something out of Ballinger after all. Something more than painful memories and revenge.

“Shh,” I murmured. “We’ll deal with that later.”

I lay with her until she fell asleep, her chest delicately rising and falling as she descended into restfulness.

Sliding out of bed, I covered her with the blankets, placing a soft kiss against her forehead.
Oh, Lorelei
.

Shuffling downstairs, I retrieved the burner phone, debating the decision I knew I had to make to try to save her from complete and utter madness.

Bringing the phone to life, I contacted Hawkes and commanded him to set up a line of communication with X.

There was nothing else I could do.