Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Francesca screamed as another man she didn’t know banded his arms around her waist and began to drag her backward, toward the entrance of the basement.
She howled, kicking and screaming, but no one even seemed to notice.
Everyone was too wrapped up in the chaos happening in and around the ring, as well as the various fights that had begun to break out around the stands.
Fear, hot and urgent, gave her a strength she didn’t know she possessed. Francesca grasped one of the meaty fingers digging into her side and wrenched it backward until she felt something snap. A blue-black snake coiled around it, making the unnatural angle of the bone seem even more wretched.
Her kidnapper didn’t let go. He didn’t even flinch. He merely shook her hard enough to make her teeth crack together before he continued on his way, dragging her through tightly packed bodies.
Being kidnapped had never been a possibility. Of all the risks Maxine had drilled into her mind since she began to entertain Easton’s proposition, it hadn’t even made the list.
She’d always have chaperones, Maxine promised her. And there were rules for the Blood Games. That was the whole point of the damn thing. The contestants might play dirty but in the end they had to respect the winner or else the whole violent institution collapsed.
Francesca clawed at the arms around her middle, but it didn’t do any good. She was arrant — not just human, but one without even the protection of magic. There were no claws or abilities at her disposal. She didn’t even have her damn heels.
Panic started to eclipse the fear and adrenaline. Operating on raw instinct, she screamed, “Milo!”
It didn’t do any good. The name was swallowed up by the bodies and the chaos. Her kidnapper continued to shove his way through the crowd, narrowing the distance between them and the doors.
If he gets me out, I won’t escape.
The thought came as clear as day. The mansion would be empty, since all the security and attendees were in the basement. There were dozens of vehicles parked outside. They were in the deep, wild woods full of country roads. If her kidnapper got her in a car, she’d never be found.
Her parents would be devastated. There’d be no one around to take care of them.
Billie would still be out there somewhere, dead or alive, forever separated from the sister who loved her.
And Luis…
He’d never forgive himself. Whatever else he was — playboy, Dom, criminal — she knew with absolute certainty that he’d never shed the guilt of her disappearance. It’d eat him up inside until it killed him, one way or another, and it would be all her fault.
Furious at the injustice of it, Francesca swung her heel backward with every ounce of her conviction.
He probably didn’t mean to let her go. It felt like reflex when her kidnapper grunted and pushed her away, his messed up hand snapping to his crotch like he could retroactively protect it from her assault.
Francesca fell to the floor on her hands and knees. Feet trampled her instantly, striking her sides and legs as she attempted to crawl away. They only let up when her attacker lurched toward her again, clearing a path with swings of his muscled arms.
She made the mistake of looking back. He snarled at her, his face turned an awful purple color. A meaty fist curled tight and swung back. She ducked low, one arm covering her head like it’d save her from the blow.
A roar reached her before the fist did.
Francesca flinched backward, her arm falling, as a god’s vengeance descended on her attacker in the form of one Milo Amauri.
The bat came first. Luis’s half-brother had incredible form. He swung that brutal weapon like he was made for it.
The attacker’s head shattered.
Blood, bits of bone, and chunks of brain matter exploded through the air like the world’s worst firecracker.
The people around her scattered, screaming, as Milo raised a leg to kick the mostly headless corpse over. She couldn’t hear him but she could see his lips form the words fucker and touch women.
And then, like the dead man didn’t even exist, Milo stepped over him to scoop her up.
A little shell-shocked and splattered in things she didn’t want to think about, Francesca didn’t second guess throwing her arms around his neck. Using one arm, Milo hauled her up against his chest until her feet didn’t even touch the ground.
Pointing the business end of his bat at the terrified people in his way, he bellowed, “Move!”
No one hesitated, but there wasn’t much space for them to go. A narrow pathway opened up for her rescuer to shove his way toward the doors.
A new kind of panic set in, pricking like hundreds of little needles through the relief of being saved.
“Luis!” she cried into his brother’s ear. “What about Luis?”
Milo burst through the doors and into the dark stairwell that led to the upper floor. The walls shook with noise from the basement, and more people began to push their way past them, desperate to get out of the rapidly deteriorating situation.
“He’ll be fine,” Milo grunted. His long, powerful legs took the steps two at a time, like her weight didn’t even matter.
“What happened? I heard he won, but—”
Elbowing past an escaping vampire, he lurched into the hallway of the first floor. “Fucking Malachi is a sore loser. Must’ve given orders to have his men attack if his proxy lost. Someone shot that weasel Easton and then took a shot at my brother.”
Her stomach bottomed out. “Is he—”
Milo squeezed her middle. A paltry but much appreciated comfort as he kicked a door open.
They burst out into what had to be the side of the mansion.
The air was sticky with humidity. The heat of the day had soaked into the earth and radiated upward into the night sky, filling the air with the scent of dirt, blood, and water.
Hiking her up his chest a little farther, he adjusted his grip on his bat and took off at a lope across the manicured yard.
In between steps, he asked, “You think that’s the first time someone has taken a shot at my brother?
Dodging bolt shots is basically his favorite pastime.
Right next to pissing people off enough to make them want to shoot him. ”
As much as she wanted to ask more questions, like how Luis would get out of there or where they were going, it was impossible to form words when she was being jolted by a giant’s massive steps every second. Francesca pressed her face into Milo’s neck and clung on for dear life.
The sounds of chaos disrupted the otherwise peaceful night as more people fled or brought their conflicts out into the open. The stench of smoke reached her, as did the whine of a bolt gun powering up some ways behind them.
Francesca didn’t know Milo. She barely knew Luis.
But when he swung her into the passenger’s seat of a low-riding muscle car and told her to hold his bloodied bat, she didn’t hesitate to trust him.
That thing she recognized in Luis was in him, too — a core of something good and kind that defied the brutal world it’d been born into.
He slammed her door shut before he dove for the driver’s side. Seatbelts weren’t even a thought when he peeled out of the long gravel driveway, narrowly dodging running vampires and other vehicles frantically attempting to escape.
Gravel sprayed out behind them as they screamed out of the iron gate and onto the lonely road that led to the worst mistake of her life.
Squeezing the gory, nail-spiked bat to her chest like a teddy bear, she warbled, “Where are we going?”
Milo took his right hand off the wheel and settled it on top of her head. “Home,” he answered in a steely, brotherly voice. “I’m taking your ass home.”
“Oh, I— I can give my address if you—”
“That’s not your home anymore,” he interrupted her. The scar that bisected his face looked like quicksilver in the light of the car’s dashboard. It gleamed in his single pale eye, too, giving him an uncanny look not helped by the blood splatter on his cheek.
Struggling to keep up, her brow furrowed with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Milo was silent for a moment. His jaw worked back and forth, and if ever there was an expression that read more as “gods, why me?” she hadn’t seen it.
Letting out a sharp exhale through his nose, he bluntly explained, “You’re my brother’s anchor.
You go where he can keep you safe. Right now, he thinks that’s the penthouse. We talked it out before the round.”
“I’m not his anchor,” she protested, though it felt increasingly silly in the situation. But it was all she had control over anymore, and until he told her exactly what he wanted from her and for how long, she refused to just accept the title he put on her.
Feeling a little bit like she was losing her grip on things, she hugged the bat closer to her and muttered, “He hasn’t bitten me.”
Milo looked a little pained. “I really don’t need to know those things, Frankie.”
Coloring, she sputtered, “I’m just saying that we’re not official, okay?”
“Well, if my brother survives tonight, you can bet that he’ll make it official,” he promised her, taking a turn a little faster than she was comfortable with. Raising his eyebrows, he challenged, “You want him to live, right?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then you better get used to the idea of being an Amauri, because that’s what’s going to happen. So welcome to the family, I guess.” He didn’t sound entirely enthused by the idea, but she couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t exactly made the best impression.
Francesca squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry about all this. I had no idea that it’d be…”
Milo cleared his throat. In a slightly uncomfortable voice, he assured her, “Don’t worry about it. Really. We all fuck up.” Almost like he was desperate to change the subject, he warned her, “I’m going to put some music on. Is that okay?”
“Oh, okay.” She tucked her trembling knees together and nodded. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Thanks.”
He pressed a few buttons on the dashboard, but before he could select whatever he intended to use as a containment device for their conversation, a contact came up, listed only as Boss.
“Ah, fuck me,” he cursed, finger hovering over the screen.
She glanced between him and the screen several times before she whispered, “You should probably answer that, right?”
“Right.” The sound of the phone ringing filled the car for several more seconds before he answered the call.
A man’s voice came through the speakers in a drawl that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. “Oh, fantastic. I was worried you’d forgotten how to use the phone. Glad to hear it still works.”
Milo winced. “Did you, uh, call? Sorry, Felix, I was busy.”
“Busy, huh?” The man’s tone nearly dripped with disbelief. “With what? Organizing your stamp collection? Maybe learning how to make fire with sticks? Or could you possibly have anything to do with my phone has been blowing up for the past hour?”
Milo did that funny nose exhale thing again before he answered, “It’s a very long story, but the short version is my brother got his ass in hot water and we might need to batten down the hatches for a while because of it.”
A long-suffering sigh filled the car. “Oh for fuck’s— What did Luis do now?”
Keeping his eyes on the road, Milo explained simply, “He found an anchor.”
There was a beat of silence before the man on the other end of the line sputtered, “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope,” Milo drew out. “And unfortunately she was convinced by our debt-dodging Mr. Wright to volunteer for the Blood Games. It ended with Luis against Malachi Burke. And my brother won.” He cast her an apologetic look before he informed Felix, “She’s in the car with me now. We had to get out fast, so—”
“Malachi fucking Burke?” Felix’s voice had gone terrifyingly flat.
“Yes, sir,” Milo answered, fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
There was a beat of silence, then, “Does he know about Ginny?”
“He… said some stuff at the Games.” Milo grimaced. “He said you’d stolen from him, but he didn’t say what.”
“And now he’s been beaten in the Blood Games by Luis to win…”
“Luis’s anchor,” Milo helpfully supplied. “She’s in the car with me now.”
“Am I speaking to Luis’s anchor right now?”
She sent Milo a panicked look. He gestured for her to speak, but she had no idea what to say to what could only be the head of the Amauri family.
“Um… hi?” she squeaked.
“Tell me your name.”
Shrinking into her seat, she mumbled, “Francesca Sinclair, sir. Um, most people call me Frankie, though.”
“Were you aware that you were claimed when you decided to volunteer for the Blood Games, Miss Sinclair?” Felix asked.
“No,” she answered. Annoyance gave her the usual confidence boost to add, “I’m not his anchor, no matter what Milo or Luis say. I’m his fucking housekeeper, not his girlfriend. When he asked me out, I told him no.”
And until he told her properly what he wanted from her, she was sticking with that answer.
There was a long pause. Then, almost like he’d pulled the phone away from his mouth, a distant rolling laughter began to fill the car. “Oh fuck,” Felix wheezed. “Okay. Yeah. Great. I needed that. Nice to meet you, Frankie. Dahlia’s gonna love you. Good gods, I can’t wait to hear this story.”
Milo made a small rumbling sound in his throat. “Boss, what do you want to do about Burke? If he knows about Ginny—”
Sobering up a little, Felix muttered, “That fuck’s been looking for a reason to come after us for years. This has been a long time coming. I was just hoping to put it off a little longer so I could get around his stranglehold of the docks.”
Seeing her blank look, Milo explained under his breath, “Malachi owns nearly all the warehouses in the port of Baltimore. You need something smuggled into United Washington from overseas, it goes through him.”
“That’s why we’ve tried to keep things civil over the years, but if he knows about Ginny, then there’s no chance for peace.
” Something in Felix’s voice changed. It was a chill that sent a shiver of unease down her spine.
“Well, there’s never a good time for this shit, so it might as well happen now.
Let’s boost security on the Estate and all our businesses.
I assume your brother is headed to his sex dungeon playhouse in the sky, right?
When Luis gets his ass home, you tell him I want to see him first thing tomorrow night. ”
“On it, boss,” Milo confirmed.
“And Frankie?”
She looked warily at the console. Without even seeing his face, she could sense something in Felix was not quite right. It wasn’t vile like whatever slithered in the dark heart of Malachi, but it wasn’t exactly harmless, either. It was cold and sharp and dangerous.
“Yes?” she whispered.
That something in him was made all the more sinister when she could hear the smile in his voice as he drawled, “Welcome to the family.”