Into the Mist fmg-1 Read online

  She shook her head. “That’s not logical, Marcus. There has to be a scientific cure, some explanation, some way to fix what happened. It was a chemical agent, not some act of a supernatural being. God didn’t come down and gift him with superpowers. Science did this to him, so science has to be able to fix him.”

  Marcus’s expression grew grim. “This wasn’t science, Tyana. It was men playing at being God, and maybe they succeeded to a degree. Whatever was in that chemical agent altered his DNA. I can’t fix that. I can only bandage it.”

  She fell back against the wall, tears stinging her eyes. She scrubbed angrily at her face with her sleeve. “I won’t accept that. I won’t accept that there isn’t something we can do.”

  Marcus reached out and lightly touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Ty. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I won’t lie to you. You have to accept that Damiano may always be this way, and if he can’t learn to harness his powers, they might destroy him.”

  She pushed past Marcus and into D’s room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his gaze directed out the window. He looked up when he heard her enter, and she could see the haunted shadows in his eyes.

  She fell to her knees in front of him and gathered him tightly in her arms. His arms came around her and held on just as tightly.

  “We’ll beat this,” she said fiercely. “Goddamn it, D, we’ll beat this. Do you hear me?”

  He slowly pulled away, and his gaze flickered over her face. His expression tightened in pain when his hand brushed over the bruise on her cheek. “I hurt you,” he said hoarsely.

  She kissed his hand and shook her head adamantly. “You didn’t hurt me, D. You would never hurt me. It wasn’t you.”

  “You should probably stay away from me,” he said in a low voice. “It’s for the best.”

  She framed his face in both her hands and forced him to look at her. “I’m never leaving you, D. Never. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m going to find a way to help you. I swear it. We’ll do this together, just like we’ve done everything else. You and me against the world.”

  He smiled then, his brown eyes warming with love and affection. “How is it you turned into my fiercest protector when I spent so many years looking out for you?”

  “Because now it’s you who needs protecting. It’s time I took care of you.”

  He yawned and frowned. “Marcus gave me a sedative. It’s making me a little woozy.”

  “Then rest,” she said softly. “And know that you’ll always have me with you. No matter what.”

  “I know, little sister, I know.”

  She hugged him once more then heard Jonah at the door.

  “He needs to rest, Ty.”

  She rounded furiously. “Back off, Jonah.”

  He stared hard at her but didn’t leave. She slowly turned back to Damiano and hugged him tightly. “I love you,” she said fiercely.

  “Love you more,” he said with a soft laugh. “Now go before Jonah has a coronary.”

  She touched his cheek one last time, knowing this would be the last time she’d see him for a while, longer if Jonah tossed her out of FMG after she pulled off her latest plan.

  Then she turned, her eyes burning, and walked past Jonah and down the stairs. She needed air. She needed to be alone to grieve.

  Chapter Ten

  This was the part of her plan that sucked. Not the sneaking out of the house with a wetsuit, radio and GPS or the quick change she’d done crouched among the rocks dodging the incoming surf. It was the swimming.

  Tyana swam through the dark waters toward the adjacent island with precise strokes. Her radio and GPS were stuffed into a waterproof bag and secured to her waist. The knife Mad Dog had given her was strapped to her leg. Everything else had been left behind.

  Midway, she paused and flipped onto her back to rest, thankful that her rigorous training kept her in shape. The water wasn’t rough, but she knew it would get hairy when she neared the rocky island. She’d need all her wits and strength to make sure she didn’t end up a rock ornament.

  After a few moments, she flipped back over and struck out again. She was on a tight schedule and needed to be on that boat before Jonah or Mad Dog discovered she was gone.

  She’d left a note for D, not that Jonah wouldn’t know exactly why she was gone, but she wasn’t so callous as to simply disappear without explanation.

  Jonah would know, and he’d come after her. She’d just have to make sure she stayed one step ahead of him and accomplished her goal as quickly as possible.

  The current began to drag more forcefully at her, and she didn’t try to fight it. She swam hard as it pushed her to shore and rested when it began to suck her back.

  Three steps forward, two steps back.

  She chose the angle of entry and put all her concentration into making sure she wasn’t yanked off course. The waves pounded at her as she swept between jagged rock outcroppings. Pain shot through her leg when her knee cracked into a rock just below the surface, but she gathered her wits and used it to push off and propel her closer to shore.

  Her feet glanced off the bottom, and she reached down, digging for a foothold, only to be dragged back and slapped again against the rough surface of the rock.

  With the next wave, she plunged beneath the surface and grabbed at handholds to pull herself forward. She was almost there, damn it.

  She broke the surface, gasping for air, and planted her feet on the bottom as she fought the current. Then, with the next oncoming wave, she lunged for the shore, finally crawling and collapsing onto the sand.

  Her leg ached like a mother, but she didn’t have time to evaluate her injuries.

  She hauled herself up and limped up the incline and into the dense foliage and rock that sheltered the tiny island. She hit the button on her watch, and the green neon glow illuminated the time. She had twenty minutes to make the rendezvous point.

  She made it to the opposing beach with five minutes to spare, bursting out of the thick, vine-ridden underbrush. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the boat in the distance.

  Right on time.

  The boat stopped a quarter mile from shore and flashed a single beacon toward the beach. Ignoring her pain and exhaustion, she plunged into the surf and waded out to do battle again with the rocks and current. At least this side wasn’t as bad as the western front.

  Several long minutes later, she reached the boat and threw her hand up to grasp the side. A strong, male arm hoisted her up and over, and she collapsed on the bottom, sucking air like a fish out of water.

  The boat sped off as she caught her breath and mentally took stock of her condition. Aside from a few bumps and bruises and the pounding her knee had taken, she’d escaped relatively unscathed.

  She pulled herself up, clutching the side as they rolled over a swell, and took position beside the guy manning the boat.

  “How far until we rendezvous with the chopper?” she shouted.

  He pointed to the onboard navigational system that charted their course, and she could see their ETA was fifteen minutes. Enough time for her to collect herself and prepare for the next leg of this insane venture.

  She examined the tear in her wetsuit and wiped at the blood seeping from the cut. It stung like hell, but it didn’t appear too serious. She slouched in her seat and tried to relax as much as possible as the minutes ticked by. Finally the boat slowed, and the guy cut the engine. They came to a stop, rocking and dipping with the waves.

  A few seconds later, the sound of a chopper heading in their direction echoed through the night. When it hovered overhead, Tyana heard a thump as the rope ladder hit the deck of the boat. Her driver grabbed the lower rung and motioned her to hurry.

  He held it in place while she gripped the rungs and hauled herself up. Another pair of hands gripped her wrists when she neared the top, and she found herself lying facedown on the floor of the helicopter as it soared away.

  Damn, what a night. In other circumstances
, she would have enjoyed the rush. Right now she was just trying to get her bearings.

  Really big hands wrapped around her arms and jerked her upright. She found herself looking into the dark brown eyes of Tits, a bald-headed, bad-assed, mean-tempered son of a bitch. He liked to call himself a cross between an African American and a European mutt, whatever the hell that was.

  He gave her an earpiece with a mic extending around to her mouth, and she grinned tiredly up at him as she put it in place. “Tits, love the earring, dude. When did you get it?”

  He fingered the gold hoop dangling from his fleshy earlobe. “You like it? Did it myself.”

  She tried not to shudder. “It’s you. Definitely you. Now what’s up with the meet and greet? Had no idea I rated such special treatment.”

  He flashed his perfectly straight, disgustingly perfect white teeth at her in what looked more like a snarl than a smile. “And miss out on this story? Hell, girl, this will only get better when I get the call from Jonah asking me where the hell you are. That’s when the fun begins.”

  She gave him a sour look. “Don’t egg him on. It’ll only make things worse for me.”

  He patted a thick envelope on the seat beside him. “I got your stuff here, but you don’t get it until you spill.”

  “Blackmailing bastard,” she muttered. With a resigned sigh, she gave him the much abbreviated version of the story behind her run-in with Eli Chance and her subsequent meeting with Esteban in Paris.

  “And you trust this dude?” Tits asked incredulously. “I seriously gave you more credit for smarts, Ty. I might need to knock some sense into that pretty head of yours.”

  She bared her teeth and snarled. “Don’t get condescending on me, asshole. I don’t trust the dickhead further than I can throw him. He has his purpose, though. He can tell me where Eli Chance is.”

  “You could find that out on your own,” Tits said calmly.

  She nodded. “I could, but I’m on a tight timeline here. If I don’t already have Jonah hot on my ass, he’ll be there shortly. The less time I spend fucking around trying to find Eli, the better off I’ll be. I don’t believe for a minute that Esteban has shit that can help Damiano, but I do believe Eli does. He’s who I want, and if I have to go through Esteban to get to him then I will. I need him to think I’m working for him, though, because he’s made threats against Damiano I can’t ignore. When I’m done with Eli, I’ll take Esteban’s sorry ass out.”

  Tits whistled. “That’s quite an agenda you got there, girl.”

  She shrugged. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

  “You’ll be glad I brought this along, then,” he said as he stuck his hand under the seat and pulled out a bag.

  She reached for it, the weight of it forcing her to rest it on her lap. When she looked in, she found a variety of weapons. All her favorites. She looked up at Tits and gave him a wicked grin. “You’re the shit, you know that?”

  Tits laughed. “I really need to teach you better American slang. You sound ridiculous. Now do I get a kiss?”

  She rolled her eyes, leaned forward and planted her lips against his. She tried to pull away just as fast, but he held her firm, deepening the kiss into a hot, lusty mix of lips and tongues.

  She balled her fist and punched him in the gut. He broke away, laughing his fool ass off.

  “Ein geiler Wicht,” she muttered.

  “I love it when you curse at me in foreign languages. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

  “Asshole.”

  He grinned again. “Consider that payment for services rendered.”

  She shot him a dark look and was tempted to punch him again, but damn, the man was built like a brick house and her hand hurt like hell from her last hit.

  “When’s my flight to Paris?” she muttered. “And how the hell am I going to get all this shit on my flight?”

  “I’m the shit, remember?” he said with a cocky grin. “Private jet. Only the best for you, Ty baby.”

  She briefly considered giving him another kiss, but he looked too damn hopeful.

  “I don’t suppose you thought to bring me any clothes, did you?” she asked, pissed that she hadn’t put it on her list of required items.

  He grinned again and shoved a pair of jeans and a T-shirt at her. “As long as I get to watch you peel out of that wetsuit, I’ll even throw in a pair of boots.”

  “Casse-toi.”

  “Oooh, French now. My life’s ambition is to get you to curse at me in Russian while we make love.”

  She laughed. Honest to God, how could you do anything else around this irreverent bastard.

  “My Russian is rusty. I’d probably just end up telling you what a small dick you have.”

  He looked affronted. “Hey now, no need to get all personal on me.”

  “Besides, my tits aren’t big enough for you, tit-man.” Tits had gotten his nickname way back when for his affinity for big-busted women. His type had little in the brains department. Tyana was convinced that smart women scared him. It made no sense to her that a guy as intelligent as Tits would be so terrified of a woman with a brain, but then men were a mystery to her. One she didn’t have any real interest in solving.

  “For you, I’d make a sacrifice.”

  “I’d have to dumb down too much for you,” she said sweetly. “Now turn your head while I turn my back so I can get out of this damn wetsuit.”

  She swiveled around, knowing full well he wouldn’t do the same, but the most he’d see was her ass, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t saved it enough. She figured he deserved a glimpse.

  He proved her right by whistling when she wiggled out of the wetsuit. She shook her head and thrust her legs into the pants and then pulled the T-shirt over her head. When she turned around, she threw the wetsuit at him, smacking him on the chest.

  He grinned, tossed it aside then shoved a pair of boots toward her, complete with a pair of socks. There was a reason he did so much work for Falcon. He never missed the details.

  “You realize this is going to put you into hot water with Jonah,” she said as she pulled on the socks and proceeded to lace up her boots.

  He leaned back, adopting a casual slouch look that fit him perfectly. “Nah. He’ll be pissed. Ain’t no doubt about that. He’ll threaten to kick my ass. I’ll threaten to kick his. We’ll scratch our balls, but at the end of the day he knows he needs me.”

  Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. For all the hilarity, it was a pretty accurate description of what would happen. Jonah would be furious, and he’d threaten all sorts of things, and with anyone else, he’d totally carry them out. But Tits? No way Jonah was going to bite the hand that had fed them on too many occasions.

  “Well, thanks. I would have had a hell of a time getting off the island without your help.”

  His expression darkened, and the light teasing was gone in a second. “I’m only doing this because I want to help D. If you think I’d let you put that pretty ass of yours in this kind of danger for any other reason, you’re short a few brain cells that I’ve always attributed to you. You’re a big girl. You can take care of business, ain’t no doubt, but I don’t like it. I don’t blame Jonah a bit for shutting your ass down. But D and I are tight, and I’ll do anything to help my brother out.”

  “You and me both,” Tyana whispered.

  He held out a beefy fist, and she balled her own fingers into a fist and bumped it against his.

  “You holler if you get into any trouble, you hear?”

  “Yeah, I hear. Don’t worry. I’m hoping this doesn’t take more than a few days at most. Then I can go back so Jonah can toss me out of FMG, and I can come to work for you.”

  “You’d have to have bigger tits,” he said with a slow perusal of her chest.

  “You are such an asshole,” she muttered.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Tyana touched down in Paris, she immediately called Esteban to set up a meeting. He didn’t sound surprised to hear from her, b
ut then he thought he held all the cards.

  She checked into a hostel with the fake passport Tits had arranged and took a hasty shower to wash the sea grime from her body. She was starving, but she’d take care of that problem after she met with Esteban.

  She shoved her stash of weapons under the bed but armed herself with the knife Mad Dog had given her, something she never went anywhere without. Deciding a couple more wouldn’t hurt, she slipped two into the sleeves of her boots.

  Hastily pulling her hair into a ponytail, she then donned a light jacket over her muscle shirt and headed out to her meeting with Esteban. Dusk wasn’t too far off, though there was still plenty of light for her to stay aware of her surroundings.

  She hated hotel meetings. Too closed in. Not open or public enough for her tastes. But Esteban had given her instructions to meet him in his suite at a swank hotel near Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Pretentious bastard.

  She made a careful sweep of the area as she left the hostel and began walking casually down the street. She pulled a backpack over one arm, giving the appearance of just another college kid hiking across Europe.

  After three blocks her neck prickled, and she fought the urge to do the clichéd stop and check. She didn’t want to give away her suspicions, but she was certain she’d picked up a tail.

  When she crossed the street at the next intersection, she glanced right to observe the sidewalk she’d just come from. Nothing immediately jumped out at her, but then a man wearing a leather coat, expensive Italian loafers and what looked to be tailor-made slacks made eye contact with her.

  She grinned flirtatiously and gave him an appreciative look, but he didn’t respond. No acknowledgement. Just a cold stare, straight through her.

  The question was, who did he work for? Esteban? Eli Chance? Someone else entirely? It so wasn’t Jonah’s style to hire a henchman. No, he’d come after her himself and haul her ass back to the island.