Conspiracy Game

Jebediah stopped her. “You stay here. Let us find out what’s going on. Tyrel’s making a sweep around the houses.”

Her brothers raced toward the animal cages to help with whatever emergency there was. As soon as they were out of sight, the back door crashed open. Briony didn’t wait to see what happened or who was there. She ran out the front after her brothers. She refused to call out, not wanting to draw Tyrel into possible danger. She was very fast and she had a good chance of catching Jebediah.

Rain poured down on her, drenching her hair and clothes as she sprinted toward the sounds of disaster. As she flashed past the wind-lashed shrubs, a huge man emerged from the bushes, streaking toward her. Luther. And he wasn’t alone.

Briony nearly ran into a second man, switched directions to avoid him, and found herself trapped between the men and the next trailer. She stopped moving and turned to face them, resolve on her face. She kept her feet beneath her shoulders, standing sideways to present the smallest target, one hand held loosely across her waist and the other up gesturing as she spoke. “What do you want, Luther?” She looked at her hands. They were beginning to shake and her head felt crushed, as if in a vise. The pain was too severe to be just the emotions of the two men, but she could feel the backlash from the crowd over near the tiger cages.

“You. Just come with us now and no one else has to get hurt.”

There was something vaguely familiar about him, something just out of her reach. “What did you do?” Her stomach cramped, and she pressed her hand protectively to the baby.

“Your boyfriend wasn’t feeling too good so we gave him a place to sleep it off,” Luther said. He rubbed his shoulder where she’d slammed the needle into him. “He isn’t going to be helping you with the baby, so you’d better make up your mind to come with us or you won’t have any of your so-called brothers alive either.”

She took a deep breath and glanced toward the animal cages where the crowd had converged. “You hurt Tony?” They had to have, or she wouldn’t be so violently ill. Blood began to trickle from her right ear.

“Worthless piece of trash. You could have had the pick of a dozen men to father your baby. Men worth something. Why the hell you picked that gigolo is beyond me. He screamed like a girl.”

Briony’s mouth went dry. “Why would you hurt him?”

“He had no right to touch you.”

“He-” She broke off abruptly. She didn’t dare tell them Jack Norton was the father of her child. They might decide to kill him. “This is crazy. I don’t understand any of this.” She wiped at the small trail of blood at her ear.

“Come on. You don’t want your brothers hurt,” the other man said, a trace of sympathy in his voice. “Just come with us and no one else is going to die. We’ll explain everything to you. You can’t take much more of this. What if you have a seizure? That would hurt the baby.”

“Don’t play nice with her, Ron, she’s a hellcat,” Luther warned.

“He’s dead? You killed him?” Tony was a handsome man with a ready smile who pitched in without complaint wherever needed. “Why would you do that?” She rubbed her pounding head. Of course they’d done it, because she’d named him the baby’s father. She’d aimed a gun at Tony’s head with her thoughtless statement. “Why does Whitney want my baby?” She was going to be sick in another minute if the pressure in her head didn’t let up. Her vision was beginning to blur.

Ron held out his hand. “Come on. You know they aren’t going to let you run around loose when you’re so valuable to them.”

Briony pushed back her rain-slicked hair and rubbed her eyes to try to clear her vision. “That’s right. I’m valuable. The baby is valuable. I guess that means you can’t use your gun on me.”

“I could shoot you in the leg,” Luther warned, “and after that stunt you pulled with the syringe, I’d enjoy it. Get your ass over here right now.”

Briony shook her head. “I don’t think so. Come and get me.”

“No one wants to hurt you,” Ron said. “Let’s just get this over. Get in the car and we’ll sort it all out.”

Luther pulled a gun and aimed it past Briony. “Your brother is coming this way, and I sure as hell don’t mind shooting him. Get in the car now.”

Briony turned her head to see Tyrel hurrying through the downpour toward her. There was no time for anything but action, and she took it, somersaulting across the ground and going in low to sweep Ron’s legs out from under him. As he went down, she came back up and stomped hard on his wrist, reversing to kick him in the knee, hoping to incapacitate him.

The gun went flying and she dove for it using a second somersault. She was able to scoop it up and continue forward her motion toward her brother. “Catch!” She tossed the gun. With the tremendous reflexes gifted to the Flying Five, Tyrel picked the gun out of the air, shoving his sister behind him as they backed toward their own trailer.

“We can’t get trapped, Tyrel,” she cautioned.

Luther dragged Ron into the cover of the bushes and sent a warning shot that sprayed leaves all over them. “Just hand her over and no one will get hurt,” he called.

“Did they really kill Tony?” Tremors wracked Briony’s body from the violence rushing into the spaces around her. The emotions choked the breath out of her and pounded at her head. She bent over and vomited, unable to stop the cramping in her stomach.

Tyrel kept pushing her back behind him with one arm as they retreated.

“Someone hit him over the head and threw him in with one of the tigers,” her brother answered grimly.

“Damn them. I told them Tony was the father of my baby. I shouldn’t have done that, Tyrel. I shouldn’t have said anything at all.” Deep inside she was crumbling, going to pieces, screaming even. She was directly responsible for Tony’s death, and a big part of her was certain she was connected to the murder of her parents. “Maybe I should go with them. If I stay with you, they’ll try to kill you, Seth, Ruben, and Jebediah.”

“Pull yourself together,” Tyrel snapped. “Do you think for one minute we’d let them take you away from us? Get as far away from this as you can. You’re already sick. In another minute you’re going to go down, Bri, and I can’t watch over you and keep them off of you.”

Briony backpedaled until she reached the edge of the trailer. She wouldn’t allow her disability to compromise Tyrel’s safety. She took a deep breath, let it out, and ignored the shards of glass piercing her skull. She loved Tyrel, and Luther could just go to hell if he was counting on her crumbling under the pressure. She glanced up at the roof while Tyrel exchanged another shot with Luther. Someone would hear the shots and come running right into the middle of a war zone.

“I’m going over the roof, Tyrel, and get behind him.”

He glanced back at her, his expression furious-protective. He could see the sweat on her body, the toll of violence already ripping at her. Pain shot through Briony, but at the same time she was humiliated to think that in spite of her all special gifts, her capabilities, her brothers had to protect her because she was unable to use her speed and agility or marksmanship.

“No, you’re not. These people are playing for keeps. Seth and Ruben and Jebediah will be here any minute and we’ll get you out of here. Just stay put.”

Luther was moving, trying for a better angle on Tyrel. Briony couldn’t stop to think about it, the emotions of all the men swamping her. Anger. Resolve. Luther had an eagerness to destroy-to kill. He was really angry with her- not because of the syringe, but thinking Tony was the father of her baby was somehow a blow to his ego. It made no sense to her, but he was broadcasting loud and clear.

Briony crouched and leapt straight up to the roof, bending low to stay out of sight, running lightly and leaping to the next roof and then the next. From her vantage point she could see the crowd gathered around the tiger’s cage and Randall, the other trainer, inside. Jebediah stood outside with a tranq gun and the tiger lay, sides heaving, head lolling from the knockout shot. Randall bent down to pull Tony’s body away from the big cat.

Below her and just to her right was Luther. He lay flat on the ground, gun in both hands, arms extended, determined to line up a shot on Tyrel.

Beside him, Ron cursed and moaned, holding his kneecap. “I think my leg’s broken. She broke my leg, Luther.”

“Idiot. Why do you think they picked her to mother the kid? I warned you, but you had to fall for her big brown eyes,” Luther spat contemptuously. “Go to the car and get it running. We’ll need to get out of here fast. She can’t hold out much longer, and when I shoot her brother, she’ll go down hard. I’ve been studying her for a while.”