“I am not going to sing for you!”
Jackson pulled out a gun and leveled it at Jayla’s head. “You either sing, or I paint the stage with your friend’s brains.”
Lattimer was almost to the venue when he realized he hadn’t given the keys to Chloe. She’d have no way to lock up, and he’d had no choice but to turn around. He never should have left it up to her in the first place. The opera house was his responsibility.
Quinn would be angry with him. It was his boss’s retirement party, and Lattie had promised he’d attend, but a bottle of his favorite wine and some heartfelt groveling should smooth things over. Quinn never stayed angry for long.
Pulling into the back lot of the opera house, Lattie was relieved to see Chloe’s car was still there. He’d tried calling her a few times on the way, but she hadn’t answered, and he’d grown worried. Parking in front of the door, he hustled out of his car and opened the way.
Lattie smiled. Chloe was singing a piece fromLa Traviata. How marvelous! She must have been thinking of performing it for Danny’s tribute and decided to use the time to practice.
Heading briskly for the stage, he heard her voice crack before she stalled out. He should bring her some water. He was just about to turn and grab one for her when he heard an unfamiliar male voice bellow, “SING!”
Erik had put a call in to the general as soon as he’d dropped Chloe off at her door. Unfortunately, the old man was busy, and Erik had to wait for a call back. Stripping off his shirt, he dropped to the floor to do pushups. Rep after rep until the sweat was dripping off his face onto Jayla’s carpet. It was either that or smash all her furniture.
This was a fucking nightmare. Everything he ever wanted – Chloe’s love, his face fixed – it was all right in front of him. There for the taking. But the price was Doctor Anne Dietrich, his torturer, having access to him again. Standing over him with a scalpel in her hand, and he, unable to fight back…
Erik snarled, and he forced himself to rebuild the wall of ice around him that he’d erected at the doctor’s office so his fear didn’t betray him. Calm. Cold. Logical. Just another mission. Get in, get the job done, get out.
When the general finally called, Erik laid out the facts – no emotion. The price was what it was, and he’d pay it. Erik’s voice had been steel, and while General Davies had sounded hesitant, he’d promised to get it done.
That ice still surrounded him when he got out of the shower after washing away the sweat from his workout and saw the text from Jayla. A picture of a rose, a gift box, and a key, then a side-by-side comparison with Chloe’s apartment key, with the words ‘They match.’
With a vicious growl, the ice splintered and shattered.That fucking bastard. He’d tear his head off…
Putting through a call to Jayla, he pulled on clothes as he waited for her to pick up and give him an update. Voicemail.Goddammit. He tried Chloe with the same result and cursed a blue streak. Checking his laptop, he glanced at the feed for the apartment building. No sign of Savoy, but also no sign of Chloe and Jayla.
Pulling out his duffel, he tried Jayla again as he geared up. His SIG Sauer M17 with a full magazine and two spares, a fixed blade tactical knife, and a combat tomahawk. Still no answer. A sick feeling of dread began to creep in on him as he pulled up the surveillance feed for the opera house. No movement at the exits, dressing room doors, or costume department, and the catwalk above the stage was empty, but he picked up the sound of Chloe singing on the audio. For half a second, he felt a surge of relief before logic took hold. This wasn’t right. Jayla should have gotten Chloe out of there at the first sign that Savoy had been on the premises.
His phone rang and he snatched it up.
“Erik, it’s Lattie.” Lattimer Wilkes’ voice was a low, panicked whisper. “I’m at the opera house, and there’s a man with a gun making Chloe sing. I didn’t know who to call. Should I call the police?”
Erik grabbed his keys and headed out. “Don’t call the police. I’m on my way. Where in the opera house are you, Lattie? Are you in a safe place?”
“I’m in my office. Under my desk. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Okay. That’s perfect. Stay right where you are. Tell me everything you saw.”
“They’re on the stage. The woman Chloe came to the meeting with looked like she was unconscious and tied up. The man’s holding a gun on her and threatening to kill her if Chloe doesn’t sing for him.”
Erik’s upper lip trembled with a snarl. He wouldn’t just kill Savoy; he’d rip him to shreds and piss on the bastard’s disemboweled corpse.
“Hold tight, Lattie. Stay hidden. I’m coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
With his SIG inthe high-ready position, Erik crept around backstage. He could hear Chloe singing, and for the first time since he met her, he didn’t take that extra moment to drink in the beauty and power of her voice. Catching a familiar scent nearby, he cursed as he headed that way.Goddammit. Lattimer was supposed to be safely hidden under his desk in his office, not crouched behind sound equipment, armed with what looked like a prop sword.
As Lattie began to stand, Erik put a finger to his lips and motioned with his other hand for the man to stay down. Lattimer nodded, and satisfied he’d stay put, Erik moved on, concealing himself in a pocket of shadow where he had a good view of the stage.
Chloe was standing center stage, her back ramrod straight, head held high, and arms slightly raised at her sides as she sang. Jackson Savoy looked at her with utter awe on his face. He was completely entranced, but he was standing over Jayla’s prone body, a 9mm pointed at her head with his finger on the trigger. If Erik took the shot and that finger spasmed, Jayla was dead.
The Beasts who could heal could survive that shot. They’d be out of commission for a good long while as their body repaired the damage, and would likely suffer memory loss from the trauma – as had happened not too long ago with Lark when she took two rounds to the head on a mission – but Jayla couldn’t heal like they did.
She must have felt his gaze. Her eyes opened, with no sign of disorientation, as she pinpointed his location even in the low light. She’d been playing possum, letting Savoy think she was unconscious. He nodded to her, and she blinked slowly in reply. When he made his move, she’d be ready.
Erik needed a distraction, something to pull Savoy’s attention. His eyes rose to the catwalk high above. He could get up there, make some noise, maybe drop something, and jump down on Savoy as soon as he turned his weapon away from Jayla. The landing would hurt like a bitch, would definitely break some bones. He didn’t have the feline DNA like Jace and Leo, who could make that jump look easy.
