He set the camera aside. “How about we do a little practice fighting?” If he left her here—and with every second that passed he was more and more certain he would have to—he wanted her as prepared as possible.
“All right,” she said, and if she was confused by the change of subject, she didn’t show it.
“Give me a few minutes to get everything ready.” He stood with Vika in his arms, placed her in the chair, and stalked to the living room to move the couch and coffee table.
When he finished, he returned to the bedroom. She was in the same place he’d left her.
“Ready?” she asked.
He frowned. He’d heard her voice, soft and sensual, but his ears hadn’t rung. Not this time.
She frowned too. “Solo,” she said, standing.
He’d heard her that time, too. “Can you hear me?”
A shake of her head, as she said, “No. Can you?”
“Yes.” So they’d switched back again.
And they would probably switch yet again.
She displayed the same relief as before. “I like sharing with you, I do, but I’m glad you can hear. The guilt was going to fry me like battered chicken.”
He . . . had no idea which adage she’d butchered that time. “I told you not to feel guilty.”
“You did. And do you not recall me telling you to bite someone?”
“Why would I want you to bite me?”
“Because I’ll make sure you like it. Now, come into the living room and
“I will, and you’ll be sorry.” Radiating eagerness, she followed after him.
They stopped on the rug he’d cleared and faced each other.
“What’s first on the agenda?” she asked, fisting her hands at her sides and bracing her legs apart.
“You’re going to practice what I’ve already taught you and learn a few more tricks.”
“What if I want to teach you something?” Without any more warning than that, she kicked out and knocked his ankles together, sending him to his knees. She was on him a second later, pushing him back and straddling his waist, a blade poised at his neck. “Like that.”
“Snagged it from the counter when I left the kitchen. I was going to carry it in the bag since you were so against me carrying the gun.”
And he’d missed the action. Either he’d lost his edge or he had no defenses against this woman. “Good girl.” Swiftly he rolled her over, pinning her to the ground with his weight. “But whatever will you do now?”
She laughed.
“I’ll take pity on you and keep my knees to myself.”
“Not sure that’s wise. I have no plans to take pity on you.”
Thirty
NIGHT FELL, BUT SOLO wasn’t tired. And neither was Vika, judging from her flurry of activity. She had raided the dresser drawers and the closet and had withdrawn everything in need of repair. Now, she sat in front of the living room fire, sewing, a soft orange glow enveloping her, the pile of clothing beside her.
Six times she’d shown him the work she’d done, watching his features intently. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he made sure to lavishly praise her efforts. And she was good. He just wished he knew what thoughts rolled through her mind.
A light pressure on his right cheek had him turning. X stood on his shoulder, frowning at him.
“No. My ability to hear has been given to Vika again.”
Vika looked over at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know. I spoke with him.”
Solo jolted to his feet. Vika followed suit.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded.
Silent, he stalked to the living room window and, kneeling, peeked through the crack in the curtains. All appeared to be well. There were no moving shadows. The trees weren’t swaying. And there was no way Jecis could have bypassed the security as Vika and X had. He was too big, too heavy.
Still, Solo sealed the crack and stood, grabbing Vika’s hand and leading her toward the secret passage to the garage. It was in the bedroom, underneath the bed. He crawled under, shoved the rug out of the way, and pushed open the door. A yawning pit of darkness greeted him. He’d already been down there and checked everything out. Had already loaded the truck with everything they might need, just in case.
Dust coated the inside of his nose as he maneuvered onto the first step, helped Vika do the same, then shut the door and quickly descended. He reached the floor and flipped the light switch.
Nothing.
He flipped it again.
A vibration against his chest, and he knew Vika was speaking.
“I need to—” he said, and stopped. Something about the air . . . wrong, familiar . . . terrible . . . thick and cloying, filled with evil.
Jecis and Dr. E were here, in the garage, he realized.
Laughter suddenly reverberated inside his head. Again, familiar. Dr. E’s. A moment later, a fiery skull with red, glowing eyes appeared at the other side of the room, its mouth open, its sharp teeth revealed.
That skull sped into motion, a mere inch away from Solo in a single blink. He jerked Vika behind him, hoping to shield her from whatever was about to happen, just as those flame-drenched bones reached him—and swallowed him whole.
• • •
Vika heard a thump.
A second later, light flooded the cold, underground room Solo had led her to, and she saw that he was on the ground, motionless, his eyes closed. Concern overwhelmed her, and she began to bend down to help him—when she caught sight of Jecis, Matas, and Audra, standing at the far wall, and froze.
They’d found her.
Horror and dread mixed, forming a toxic sludge in her veins. Jecis was scowling, Matas was grinning, and for once Audra was gazing at her with sympathy. She was pallid, and she was shaking, no longer a pretty woman. Her face was swollen, discolored and scabbed from Jecis’s rings.
Scabs Vika herself had borne many, many times throughout the years.
Despite his amusement, Matas, too, looked as if he had come into contact with her father’s fists. One of his
