Page 100 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
“You sick son of a bitch!”
This was screeched as Ember kicked the door, realizing Caesar was, at that moment, doing something very bad to her stepmother. Though she hated the woman and had often wished her ill, falling into Caesar’s hands was not something she would wish on anyone. The taxi driver flicked her a disinterested glance in the rearview mirror, then turned his attention back to the road; just another routine drop off.
On the other end of the line, Caesar chuckled in glee. “Oh, dear! Someone sounds a bit put out. Well, I know how awful it is when things don’t go your way. But surely you must realize I have no interest in you—forgive me, but you really aren’t that interesting. You know who I want.” His voice hardened, losing all its playful lightness, and like a snake he hissed, “Give him to me and your stepmother lives.”
Ember’s mind was a sudden tangle of flying goose feathers. This wasn’t something she anticipated. She’d have to get Caesar to let Marguerite go before she could get him alone—but how was she going to do that?
“I-I’ll need proof that she’s okay. You have to let her go first—”
“Plain and stupid, hmmm? She’s not going anywhere until I have what I want.”
Ember swallowed, shaking hard. “I don’t know where he is right now,” she said, stalling for time to think.
“Let me worry about the details, September. I assume you have a way to contact him?”
She whispered, “Yes.”
Caesar made a noise of approval. “Just come to me and I’ll take care of the rest. Once I have what I want, you and your stepmother can go. As I said, I have no interest in you. You’re just a means to an end. Give me what I want and neither of you will get hurt. Or…”
There was a pause, then a scream came over the line, hair-raising, vibrating with agony.
“…or I’m going to make you both suffer so badly you’ll beg for death, and I won’t give it to you.” His voice had dropped to a husky, excited whisper, and Ember’s skin crawled in horror.
Whatever he was doing to Marguerite, he was enjoying it.
“Where…where do I go?”
“Your bookstore.” There was a slight pause, another broken scream from Marguerite, then he added darkly, “You better hurry,” and disconnected the call.
The cell phone in Christian’s pocket rang and he answered it without looking at the screen.
His attention was fully absorbed with thoughts of Ember, of getting back to her and getting her in his arms. He and Corbin were almost home; it wouldn’t be long now. And in the two hours since he’d left her, Christian had a revelation.
He couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t leave her alone.
He’d been sitting there with the banker and the transfer paperwork, staring at the pen in his hand, when that epiphany had stolen his breath.
Ember mattered more to him than anything. His family, his future, even his honor.
How could he abandon her? How could he voluntarily die, now that he had something so precious to live for?
Put simply, he couldn’t. The thought of leaving her burned like acid in his throat.
So Christian tore up the paperwork and ran out of the bank, thinking he’d just have to make alternate plans to kill that bastard Caesar. Now that Christian knew his whereabouts, he could lay low and determine some other way to wipe him from the face of the earth that didn’t include getting himself killed in the process.
Ember. That’s all he could think about now. His heart pounded in anticipation.
He was so eager to see her he even imagined he could smell her. A hint of orange blossom teased his nose, and he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and relaxed back into the plush leather seat. He must have her scent on his shirt from when they’d said good-bye earlier; it was so luscious a flash of heat tightened his groin. He almost groaned with hunger for her.
Into the phone, he said, “Yes.”
“Good evening, Mr. McLoughlin. This is Dr. Katharine Flores,” a woman said in response. Christian frowned, not recognizing the name.
“Dr. Flores? I’m sorry, are we acquainted?”
“I’m September’s psychiatrist. Is this a good time for us to speak?”
