Creatus

simply couldn’t allow anything to interfere with everything he’d put in place in the last few years. He’d strategically placed creatus everywhere to protect them if the time came. And he wasn’t bound to let one person within his reach ruin everything.

“Rebecca, I hate to drink and run, but something just came up. We’ll do this again soon.” He bounded up from his chair, grabbed his leather jacket off the backrest, and headed for the door. “By the way, if Victoria, Jonas, or Ry show up, tell them I’ll call them in a little bit.”

“But you just got here,” she called after him.

He turned and ambled back to her, leaning over the chair and planting a kiss on her lips. A test. She threw her head back, accepting him. He pulled himself upright after a moment and peered down at her, enjoying the starry-eyed gaze she shot him. Yep, he still had it, even with a creatus woman, and they weren’t as easy to seduce as humans were. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She didn’t question him again, so he walked off.

Nope. She wasn’t his type. The kiss had confirmed that, but it’d still been fun to see her melt beneath his lips.

He waited for him to show, and when he did, he came up behind him, surprising him.

* * *

Vic heard the scream and ran. When she saw him, she bounded up behind him latching her arm beneath his neck, attempting to cut off blood flow to his brain. It was hard to gain purchase with her leather jacket on, and within seconds, he’d freed himself. She heard a grunt behind her, but refused to take her eyes off her target, knowing he could kill her easily. She flipped around and landed a roundhouse kick to his head and watched as he dropped to the ground. Before he could stand up, she landed another. This time, he grabbed her leg, dropping her to the ground. All the creatus had been trained by the same person, so they all had learned the same moves, which was good—and bad. She knew what to expect, but so did he. The only difference was that she was faster and lither, even if he was stronger.

She’d trained hard for this moment, though. She’d been wrestling creatus men for years, and she had flexibility on her side. Rarely could they pin her. She was back on her feet faster than he could grab her. He reached for her, but she ducked and landed a solid punch to his kidneys, sending him to his knees.

And then she heard the crack.

* * *

Derrick heard the scream as clear as if she’d been in his apartment. From the roof? Kristina was on his roof? Clearly it was a set up, he knew, but he had to go.

He charged out of his apartment and darted toward the stairwell. He was on the rooftop of his condominium within seconds, her voice clearer as she called his name. Derrick ran toward her voice, but only saw a thin rope tied to one of the roof vents. “Kristina!”

“Derrick,” her voice rang out in relief. “He’s waiting, Derrick! It’s a trap, I’m sure.”

He peered over the side and she gazed up at him, even though she was blindfolded and couldn’t see him. Thank God she was—An arm latched around his neck, pulling him backward. Derrick tore at the leather jacket. The attacker had trouble gaining purchase as Derrick pulled his chin down in response to the threat. Derrick freed himself and prepared for battle with the rogue. He was dressed as a watcher of course, full black leather and ski mask.

Kristina grunted as if trying to come up, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the threat, he’d have to pray that the tiny rope and ledge held. The rogue flipped around and landed a roundhouse kick to his head and Derrick dropped to the ground. Before he could stand up, he landed another. He was stronger than any other creatus he’d fought and he was fast. The next time the rogue kicked, he grabbed his leg, dropping him to the ground. But in a flash, he was back on his feet again.

Derrick swung, but he ducked, landing a solid punch to his kidneys, sending him to his knees. And then he heard the crack of concrete.

“Derrick!” Kristina cried.

Derrick came back up, grabbing the rogue and pulling his arms behind his back. He threw him to the concrete, pinning him with his arms strapped behind him. Derrick glanced to the rope holding Kristina. It was unraveling. He watched as individual strands popped.

“Kristina?” he called to her. “Are you still on the ledge?”

“No…” she cried. “The one below my feet is gone, but I think I can hold onto the ledge above me.”

“I already whittled them away, Derrick,” the rogue growled in a raspy, unrecognizable voice. “The ledge will give way the moment the rope breaks.”

Derrick slammed the rogue’s head against the concrete, hoping it would knock him out and ran toward the sound of the snapping rope. He launched, but the rope slipped out of his reach. He darted to the edge of the rooftop, thankful to see Kristina holding onto the ledge, but he could see the hairline cracks and knew it’d only be a couple of seconds before the ledge gave way. He glanced over his shoulder at the rogue, who still lay on the concrete, but assumed he’d be up in a second.

As he tried to decide whether to go back and immobilize him, he heard the crack. It was too late; he had to make a choice. Save Kristina or secure the rogue.

* * *

Vic turned to the sound of the crack. The man she’d protected had a gun in his hand and had shot the rogue she’d been fighting.

“Victoria,” the rogue called behind her. No, not the rogue, she realized. “Michael?” That’s why he hadn’t fought back, only tried to stop her advances. She darted to his side, falling to her knees beside him. “I don’t understand. You’re the rogue?”

Blood seeped out of his mouth. And she realized the man had shot him. “No… for you. Everything for you. I love you…” he gurgled out. “The agent… get the brief… case.” Michael collapsed on the ground.

Vic pulled off her jacket and pressed it to his side, layering his hand over the top to stop the blood. She stood and launched herself at the human she’d been trying to protect. He was still on the ground. Evidently he’d put up a fight against Michael. She grabbed the briefcase and then hovered over him.

Pulling off her belt, she latched it around the man’s wrist several times. “If he dies,” she growled in his ear, “I’ll kill you myself.”

The blond-haired man’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t look scared; he looked to be in shock.

Vic raced over to Michael and pulled him up, allowing him to rest against her side. She walked back toward the man and dragged him by her belt. She obviously couldn’t let him go now that he’d seen them. Derrick would know what to do, but first, she needed to get Michael to the center. After she threw the agent in the cargo area of her SUV, latching him to the seatbelt and strapping Michael in the front, she called Lynford on his cell.

He answered immediately. “Derrick and I have been looking for you, Vic. Where are you?”

“Lyn, there’s no time to talk. Meet me at the clinic,” she panted out. “Michael’s been shot.”

Lyn hung up the phone without a word. It was the same characteristic she’d admired in Derrick. He thought quickly, no questions asked.

Vic stomped on the gas and headed toward the clinic.

Michael? Why now? Just when she’d thought… Why had Michael told her to meet him at the pub if he’d planned to confront the agent? Everything for her, he’d said.

As soon as she pulled up in front of the clinic, there were several nurses waiting. Lyn had apparently called, notifying them of her arrival. She watched as they pulled Michael out, transferring him to a gurney. She parked the vehicle and then opened the rear hatch, pulling the agent out on the concrete, not concerned whether she injured him.

The man looked up at her again. His eyes and mouth were swollen. A mere human had given Michael a challenge, but she was certain that Michael had never meant to hurt him; he only wanted whatever was in the case.

“What are you?” the man slurred.

She punched him, knocking him out cold, and then carried him into the rear entry of the clinic.