Tooth And Nailed Part 21

"Take the women in the kitchen first. I don't think they're a direct threat but I don't want anyone raising an alarm."

"Take *em hard?"

Jack shook his head at Corbin. "Softa"tranquilizer's only. I'm not looking for a high body count on this one."

Michael popped his gum again. "What about the goons in the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"They're armed. Use necessary force. But," he stressed, "we take them quietly. I'm not sure what's going on inside that room and I don't want Job to know we're here until the last possible second."

Corbin was checking his equipment methodically and didn't look up. "You're sure Job's the one in the room with her?"

"Yeah," Jack said grimly. "I can hear her screaming inside her head and she's screaming at him."

Michael sniffed. "Plus, you can smell him. It's like burning trash."

Jack was checking his own weapon. "You both set?" They both nodded, standing when he did. "Okay. Fast and silent, gentlemen."

He moved silently around the side of the house to the back door, using hand signals to gesture Corbin to one side of the door and Michael to the other. They'd worked together many times before and moved quickly and seamlessly into place.

Michael gave the doork.n.o.b a testing twist and finding it unlocked, gave a quick nod. Jack moved in front of the door, Corbin moving in behind him, and nodded. Michael drew the door open and they slipped in, Jack and Corbin first with Michael bringing up the rear.

There was a short hallway leading from the back door into the kitchen. They stayed close to the wall, inching along to the open doorway. They could hear the quiet murmur of female voices, the clank of dishes as they moved around the room. Jack sidled to the edge of the door waiting for Michael to fall in behind him and Corbin to move to the other side of the door. He took a quick breath, let it out slowly and swung into the room.

The woman standing by the sink turned in surprise, the sponge in her hand dripping soapy water onto the floor. She jumped a little when the tranquilizer dart hit her above the right breast then just stared at it jutting out of her flesh until she crumpled to the floor.

The other two women had their backs to the door and Michael and Corbin had each fired off a dart before they could turn around. The younger of the two, who looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen, squeaked in surprise when the dart hit her hip. The tranquilizer hit the blood stream fast and they were out within seconds.

Jack checked the pulse of the woman by the sink while Michael and Corbin did the same with the other two, removing the darts as they did so. Even though he was reasonably sure there was no one else in the house, they swept it anyway, going room by room.

When they got to the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, Jack stopped. He turned to his friends. "We take the guards as fast as possible, I don't care if it gets messy as long as it's quiet. But I go into the room first." He waited for them both to acknowledge the command then nodded.

"Go."

Chapter Fifteen.

Rowan's head was swimming, her vision fading in and out as she struggled to stay conscious through the pain and the fear. She still hung on the cross, her hands long gone numb from the bindings and she was bleeding from too many to wounds count. While none of them were deep enough to cause major damage on their own, the combined blood loss was making her weak and lightheaded.

She saw the flash of steel in the corner of her vision and moaned slightly, not even bothering to try to move out of its path anymore. Struggling was useless and only put more pressure on her battered wrists, ankles and ribs as she fought the ropes binding her. She barely felt the knife slide into her skin, watching with a detached sort of horror as the blade sliced through the pale flesh of her breast.

"You've got pretty t.i.ts," Job remarked, his brow furrowed in concentration as he drew the knife. "They're not very big," he continued, p.r.i.c.king at the nipple with the point of the knife until little droplets of blood appeared, "but they've got a nice shape to them."

Rowan swallowed, her tongue feeling like a wad of cotton in her mouth. "I've always been attached to them," she managed, and grimaced as the knife dug in deeper.

"You might not be attached to them much longer!" Job laughed uproariously at his own joke, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Oh that's a good one," he sighed. "But I think I'll let you keep them for a while longer, I like looking at them."

She swallowed again, nausea rolling in her belly. She looked down at herself and mentally cursed as despair overwhelmed her. She was covered in her own blood, little rivulets trailing down to drip onto the floor to pool there. The smell of it hung heavy in the air and Job seemed to be growing more and more agitated with every drop she bled.

He was focused on her breast, licking his lips as he watched the blood flow with gla.s.sy eyes. "I love this part," he breathed, leaning in to nuzzle the valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I love it when they bleed." He looked up at her, his face smeared with her sweat and blood, and Rowan nearly lost the battle with her stomach.

"Do you know why the bleeding is the best part?" he asked.

She remained silent and his face twisted with rage so he pushed the tip of the knife into her ribs. She whimpered as he increased the pressure, feeling the blade begin to pierce the skin. "No, I don't know why," she cried, and felt a flood of relief when the pressure eased.

"That's better," he said, his face taking on a daydream quality once again. "It's the best because it means it's dinner time."

Rowan gagged, horror and revulsion battling inside her as he grabbed her ravaged breast and put his mouth over the cut. He squeezed hard, forcing the cut to bleed heavily and drank greedily from her torn flesh. She shrank away, instinctively recoiling, but there was nowhere for her to go, she only succeeded in digging her back painfully into the wood of the cross.

Job raised his head, his mouth glistening with her blood and licked his lips. "Yum, you are delicious." He gave her breast a final squeeze, purring in satisfaction as blood continued to well then turned away.

"You've been a very charming guest, Ms. Evans," he said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the blade clean then dabbed at the blood on his hands. "But unfortunately, you don't appear to have served your purpose. You see, I only needed you to get your father here. I thought the pictures I sent would have brought him runninga""

"Pictures?" Rowan asked. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open and focused but she managed. "What pictures?"

"Oh I took a few snapshots. A few candids for the alb.u.m. Would you like to see?" He walked back to stand in front of her and drew a folded piece of copy paper from his back pocket. He unfolded it and held it up. "The quality here isn't very good, since it's only a computer printout. But I think you get the idea."

Rowan stared at the page. "You sent those photos to my father?" she asked, her fatigue and fear fading as rage set in. As violated as she felt in looking at the photos, she was even more horrified that her father had been subjected to those images of her.

"They're quite good, aren't they?" He turned the page around to admire the images. "I think they might have turned out better with a little more natural light to work with but one does what one can."

"You're a sick, s.a.d.i.s.tic motherf.u.c.ker," she spat, her self-preservation instincts overridden by her anger.

He had the nerve to look affronted. "That's uncalled for. I'd never do anything so vile as to have s.e.xual relations with my mother." His face twisted with distaste. "My mother isn't at all attractive."

"You're a pig," she snarled.

Job's eyes narrowed. "You're not being very sociable. I don't like rude guests."

"Well, I don't like knife-wielding, blood-sucking hosts so I guess we're even."

"You've outlived your purpose, Rowan," he said, letting the paper drop. It fluttered to the floor to settle in the pool of her blood. "Your father isn't coming to your rescue and I doubt anyone else is either. You'd be smart to be nicer to me, I might let you live a bit longer."

Rowan could feel her body failing her. She'd lost enough blood to feel extremely weakened and she knew if she didn't get medical care fairly soon, she could very well bleed out from the dozens of small cuts he'd inflicted. Logic was telling her to prolong the conversation, keep him from dealing his final blow as long as she could to give Jack time to find her. She knew he was looking for her and she trusted him to find her in time. But the rage rolling through her felt good, it felt right. It was such a welcome relief from the pain and fear that she couldn't think straight.

She snarled at him. "You're just a pathetic little man trying to get out from under daddy's shadow."

His eyes lit with savage hatred and he pushed his face into hers. "I am way better than my father! He was a religious nut with no vision! I'm making something of his church, something great!"

"He might have been a religious nut but he was doing something he believed in. You're just on some power trip, a quest to prove you're a big man. Well I've got news for you, Stevie. If you have to prove you're a big man, then you aren't one."

"Don't call me Stevie!" he screamed. He had the knife clenched in his fist, she hadn't seen him pick it back up again. Or maybe he'd never dropped it, she didn't know. He shook it in her face, the blade glinting in the light. "I'm a better man than my father ever was!"

"You're not a better man than anyone," she spat at him, and on a howl of rage, he plunged the knife into her side.

Rowan gasped in shock. The pain hit a second later, rolling in and swamping her like a tidal wave. She felt him jerk the knife out and looked down to see a flood of blood pour out of the wound in her side. She could feel the warmth of it running over her hip, down her leg, and she knew she'd bleed out if she didn't get help right away.

"You b.i.t.c.h," Job sobbed, his face streaked with tears. "You made me do this. I wanted to keep you alive, I was going to let you go but you had to ruin it!" He stomped his feet like a petulant child. "You ruined it!" He raised the knife and Rowan could see in his eyes he had gone over, beyond reach, and closed her eyes and braced herself for the killing blow.

Then she heard the crash and her eyes flew back open.

Job pivoted away from her as the door burst open with such force the wood splintered. He never even had time to squeak in surprise because with an odd-sounding pop, the man who'd burst through the door shot him, leaving a neat, round hole in his forehead. Rowan watched as he toppled backward without a sound, still holding the knife clenched in his fist.

Rowan looked toward the doorway and smiled feebly. "Where have you been?"

Jack ignored the question, shoving his weapon into his waistband and leaping toward her so fast she barely saw him move. "Jesus, Rowan, look at you." He lifted his hands to touch her and then stopped, his hands hovering over her as if he were afraid to touch her. "What the f.u.c.k did he do to you?"

"I've looked better, huh?" she managed.

"I should have killed him slower," he growled.

"That's nice," she whispered, "but can you get me down now?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He pulled a knife out of his boot and knelt, slicing through the ropes at her ankles. She whimpered as they fell slack, the feeling returning to her numb feet painfully and her rib cage taking the full weight of her body. He started to cut the ropes on her waist then stopped.

"If I cut you loose you're going to fall."

"I don't care," she moaned, clinging to consciousness by the skin of her teeth. "Just get me down, I really need a doctor."

Jack looked up into her ashen face and the blood still flowing sluggishly from the wound in her side. He cursed. "Michael, Corbin! I need your help!"

Rowan turned her head, noticing for the first time the two men in black fatigues by the door. "More vampires?" she murmured as they came forward.

"They work for me," Jack said. He turned to the men. "I need you to hold her up while I cut her loose. One on each side and be careful of the wounds."

The men moved in to flank her, each putting a bracing hand on her abdomen and another just under her armpit. As Jack began to saw through the ropes at her waist, she smiled wanly down at the man on her left.

"I'm Rowan," she said, and he grinned at her.

"Michael, ma'am. Pleased to meet you." He snapped his chewing gum loudly and nodded to his companion. "That's Corbin."

The other man nodded. "Just hold on a few more minutes, we'll have you down and out of here."

"I'm pleased to meet you both," she said. She jerked a little in their grip as the ropes around her waist finally fell to the ground and she heard them grunt as they took her weight. "Sorry," she managed, breathing carefully to try to control the pain. "I keep meaning to loose those pesky ten pounds."

Michael grinned up at her as Jack moved to release her wrists. "Don't you worry about it, sugar. You're like a feathera"we can hold you up all day here if we have to."

"That's sweetaof you to say," she managed. She cried out, her vision hazing and her stomach roiling with nausea as her wrists were freed. They'd been numb for so long it was like hot needles driving into her flesh as the feeling came back. She didn't even realize she was crying until she felt Jack's hands come up to wipe them from her cheeks.

"Shh, baby, please don't cry. It's going to be okay, I'm going to get you out of here." He gathered her up as gently as he could, his words tumbling over themselves as he whispered apologies and rea.s.surances. She bit her lip to keep from crying out again in pain as they moved her, Michael and Corbin helping to ease her down from the cross and into Jack's arms. "We're getting out of here right now."

Fine by me, she thought, biting her lip to keep from howling in pain as he began walking. Then a thought struck suddenly. "Wait. Jack wait, we can't leave yet."

"What? Why not?"

"Job," she said, gesturing to the body lying on the floor. "He isn't dead yet."

"Sweetheart, he is," he soothed, and started for the door again. "Trust me, he can't hurt you anymore."

"No!" she shouted. "He's a vampire!"

Jack stopped again, looking at her with stunned surprise. "Are you sure?"

"He said he was and he had fangs," Rowan said.

Jack looked over her head to Corbin. "Check it out."

He waited while the other man crouched over Job's body, prying his jaw open to look at his teeth. "Yeah boss, we've got fangs." He looked up at Jack. "And the bullet hole in his forehead is starting to heal quick."

"s.h.i.t. I wasn't expecting this. I didn't bring a long enough blade." Jack jerked his chin at Michael. "See if you can find something in the kitchen."

"You got it, boss."

Rowan groggily watched Michael lope out of the room then turned to Jack. "What's he looking for?"

"Something to cut his head off with," Jack explained.

"Can't you just stake him with a chunk of the door?" she asked, and bit back a moan as he shifted her in his arms.

"Decapitation is cleaner. If you don't get the stake in just the right spot, there's a chance for regeneration." He looked at her sharply and swore. "I'm getting you to the hospital. Corbin, you and Michael handle cleanup."

"No problem, boss."

Jack hardly waited for the answer before he was out the door and hitting the stairs at almost a dead run. Rowan grimaced, feeling the renewed flow of blood from a dozen wounds at the jostling. He sped into the brush, his feet flying over the ground, and they made it to the Mercedes he'd hidden in an orange grove in about thirty seconds. He bundled her into the pa.s.senger seat, getting a blanket from the trunk to tuck around her and buckled her in.

"Just hang on, you'll be okay." He came around and climbed in, starting the car and out onto the long driveway.

"Where are we anyway?"

"About an hour outside L.A.," he said, "at an estate Job's church just purchased last week. I think he was planning his own Branch Davidian-style compound."

"Jack." She let her eyes drift shut. "I really don't think I'm going to make it to the hospital."

"Don't say that." She heard the panic in his voice, felt the tremble in his hand as he reached over to clasp hers. "You're going to be just fine."

"No," she said, "I'm not. I lost a lot of blood, Jack. I'm still bleeding and it's going to take too long to get to the hospital."

"If I have to break every traffic law on the books, I'll get you there in time."

She smiled at the grim, fierce determination in his voice. "Jack."

"Dammit, Rowan, I'm not letting anything happen to you!"

"Then you're going to have to turn me."