Tempted

Chapter 4

Like any good insane asylum, Brancrest sprawled across lonely acres of trees, bushes, and rolling hills. It had been built by the millionaire Brancrest for his English bride, before the wilds of the surrounding land had taken them both. The Brancrests had disappeared within two years of residency, leaving no heirs.

The state gleefully took over—needing a place to house crazies. The stone buildings had stood for a hundred years; ancient compared to most buildings in the Pacific Northwest. The smooth stones had absorbed stories about tortured souls, zany old aunts, and those like Sarah, who’d been contained after a traumatic event. She shivered as the helicopter passed over the main building.

A heavy hand settled over hers, infusing warmth and strength along her knuckles. Safety. She turned toward Max. His gaze searched her face and then he ... winked.

Humor bubbled up, and she grinned. She could love the guy. The idea whispered in from nowhere. Love? Clearing her throat, she turned back to the window, catching her breath as they descended onto a field out of sight of the building.

The men jumped out, and Max held a hand to assist her. Heat flared up her arm from his palm. She sighed in relief when he released her. Yet she felt bereft.

Smooth as an assembly line, the men shoved guns, knives, and even stars into vest pockets, like they’d done so a million times before. Turmoil swept along her skin with the breeze.

Jase handed her a green gun. “Don’t shoot me.”

“Okay.” She took the heavy metal. No vibrations wandered up her arm. Apparently Jase was as safe as Max from her gift. Who the hell were these guys? Fear made her hand tremble. Cold, the weapon—an instrument of death—was the first gun she’d ever held. Tears pricked the back of her eyes.

Max swiftly grabbed it. “I’m assuming you shoot like you fight?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He tucked the gun at the back of his waist. “Just stay behind me.”

She didn’t want the gun anyway. “Um, why are we taking so many weapons? I mean, nobody here is armed.” Sure, they had needles and stuff, but the men’s knives were overkill.

Jase flashed her a quick smile. It was charming and probably meant to be disarming. “We like to be prepared. You never know.” He sheathed a wicked jagged-edged blade along his calf, under dark cargo pants.

Conn twirled a narrower knife. “I’m assuming the main offices are in the big buildings?”

“Yes.” Sarah cleared her throat. “There are no phones, no way for inmates to reach the outside.”

Those protocols existed for the inmates’ “protection.” The doctors were old and stuck in their ways. One had tried everything to cure her—to convince her she’d imagined the monster. He was wrong. Kurjans existed. She straightened her spine. Huge relief settled along her shoulders that she was sane after all.

Jase reached into the front seat of the helicopter, brought out a notebook, and placed it in her hands. “Would you diagram the building?”

“Um, maybe.” She shoved hair out of her face and began to sketch. “The dorms are adjacent to the main building, which houses the treatment rooms, meeting rooms, and the doctors’ offices. When you first go inside, the reception area has a bunch of couches and a huge fireplace; I think to put visitors at ease.” She kept drawing.

“Where would your records be kept?” Max asked.

“East side of the building—first floor in Dr. Robard’s office as well as the main records room on the third floor.” She drew a path, wincing at the rough lines. Drawing had never been a talent. “Though, frankly, I just don’t get this. Why do you guys really want my records?”

Conn cracked his neck. “I’m assuming your records contain the same information you put on that website trying to find information on the Kurjans. You called them vampires.”

“They are.” Fangs, white faces, evil eyes—of course they were vampires. “It makes sense. Most myths have a foundation in truth.” She shot Conn a hard look. “Max said you had my website and blog taken down.”

Jase flashed her a grin. “I took the site down ... after leaving a final entry that you’d sold your made-up story to a publisher—that your gimmick worked.” He tied his thick hair back at the neck with a rubber band. “For the record, they’re not vampires.”

Max tucked a hand around her arm, gently leading her toward the trees. “Let’s get the information and I’ll explain everything. For now, you need to understand we can’t have any information out there about the Kurjans.”

“The vampires.”

“They’re not vampires.” All three men made the statement at once.

She shrugged, peering around a large blue spruce at the imposing building. “I know what I saw.” Finally. For a brief time, she’d wondered. No longer. “I take it we’re going in the front door?”

Max scratched his head. “Um, yeah. The direct approach.”

Realization snapped her head up. “I’m your way in. I mean—”

“Yep.” Jase stepped into the sun, his gaze thoughtful on the stone building reflecting the light. “We’re taking you back in, Sarah.”

“But we won’t leave you.” Max stalked forward, intimidating and reassuring, maneuvering up the rough asphalt drive. Crickets chirped in the distance, and closer, a robin sang.

Why the hell hadn’t she figured that out? How else would they get inside? Guns blazing and blades flinging into the peaceful watercolors lining every hallway? She fought a hysterical laugh. It was crazy. She was allowing them to take her back. A glance down at the thick hand banded around her arm negated that fact. No choice had been given. “Why is this so important?” she whispered, tripping in her tennis shoes.

They came to a stop before the oak double doors. Max studied the keypad embedded in the stone. “The information out there could get a good friend of mine killed. He’s also my boss.”

She frowned. “Why? I mean ... oh God. He’s not a vampire, is he?”

Jase started. Conn went still. She shoved away from Max. “Is your boss a Kurjan or not?”

“No. He’s definitely not a Kurjan.” Max exhaled. “You have my word.”

Jase’s cheerful smile disappeared. “His boss is my brother, and if our, ah, allies discover he let such dangerous information loose, they’ll take him out. We’re trying to prevent war.” Determination and strength replaced the good-natured grin he’d worn since she met him.

“Your allies don’t sound like allies.” She elbowed Max, trying to get some air. The sheer size of the guys brought on claustrophobia. “Which government are you with, anyway?” Enough with the secrets.

Max shrugged. “We’re the good guys.”

“Everyone thinks they’re the good guys. Especially the bad guys,” Sarah muttered.

Amusement filtered across Max’s face. “You’re not wrong.”

No kidding. Sarah straightened her sweater, wiping her feet on a worn rug in front of the door. “Let’s get this over with.” Three deep breaths later, her shields slammed carefully into place. No crazy vibrations or images were taking her down. Besides, she needed to concentrate. If the soldiers left her alone inside, she could escape the same way as last time. But something whispered in her consciousness that these three wouldn’t be as easy to outrun as the Brancrest orderlies.

Max pressed the button on the keypad, announcing they had a meeting with Dr. Robard.

A buzzer sounded and the door slid inward, revealing the strategically designed reception room. A nurse dressed in light blue scrubs hustled around the leather sofa, charts in her hands. “You said Dr. Robard is expecting you?” She took a good look at the three men and stopped cold, a red flush shooting across her cheekbones. “Oh my.”

“He’s not expecting us”—Max gently hauled Sarah before him—“but we were sent to retrieve a missing patient of his.”

Adrenaline ripped through Sarah’s veins. Her breath caught in her lungs like the oxygen had turned to lead. The scent of bleach and desperation hung heavy in the building, and she fought a whimper. Run. She needed to run.

A heavy hand descended on her shoulder, smoothing down her spine gently and with reassurance.

Her legs trembled with the urge to step back into Max’s strength. Instead, she lifted her chin. “Hello there, Nurse Whitcome. Still a complete bitch?” The blond wench had been gleeful when administering shots.

Jase snorted.

“Oh. Miss Pringle.” Whitcome smiled wide, revealing pearly teeth all the way to the gum line. “How nice to see you again. We’ve made improvements in night checks and medication regimens. You won’t escape again.”

“You are a bitch,” Max said mildly to the nurse. “Now get Robard before you really piss me off.”

As the color slithered away from Whitcome’s face, Jase flashed Max a surprised look and bit his lip against another grin.

No way was Sarah turning to view what had scared the sadistic nurse. Max could probably be quite threatening when he wanted. Odd that she wasn’t afraid of him. The memory of him softly wiping off her scrape the previous day flashed through her mind.

Whitcome pivoted on her sensible nurse shoes. “I’ll take you to Dr. Robard’s office.” Her quick stomps shook her ample butt as she led the way.

Sarah straightened her shoulders to follow. “He’s not going to give you the records,” she whispered.

“Yes, he will,” Max whispered back.

Someone screamed, high and loud, in the recesses of the building. Insanity echoed in the shriek. Sarah halted, resuming only when Max nudged her shoulder. Pretty watercolors adorned the hallway, but the industrial tiles lining the floor with their squiggly black lines kept drawing her attention. The tiles sparkled under the fluorescent lights, yet somehow seemed stained with despair. She shook off the depressing thought.

“This place would make anybody crazy,” Max muttered.

The nurse stopped next to a narrow oak door, knocked, and then pushed it open. “Dr. Robard, Miss Pringle has returned.” With a sniff, she hustled away.

Sarah led the way inside. “Hi, Doctor.”

The door closed, the three towering soldiers forming an impenetrable wall behind her.

Robard’s salt and pepper hair matched his trimmed beard. He sat behind files and papers piled high on a smudged glass and chrome desk. The color slid from his face. He half stood, his sharp gray eyes dilating. “Miss Pringle. It’s good to see you safe.”

“Thanks. It’s just great to be back.”

“I, ah, don’t understand.” Robard retook his seat, allowing his gaze to aim behind her.

“Her family hired us to retrieve Miss Pringle and her records before transferring her to a different facility.” Conn yanked paperwork out of his pocket, unfolding several sheets to hand to the doctor. “You’ll see everything is in order. Her family asked us to bring her here first, since you need to formally discharge her.”

What a load of crap. Sarah struggled to keep her face placid.

“I don’t think so.” Robard rubbed his chin. “I can certainly copy and send her records to you, but I’m not just handing them over.” His gaze darted around the room.

The guy wasn’t stupid. He’d believed Andrew’s lies, but that was no surprise. Her brother was an excellent liar. While the doctor had never been mean, he’d never even considered she had been telling the truth.

“I have the right to my records, Doctor.” Probably. There had to be some federal law that gave her that right.

“Actually”—he cleared his throat, sweat pooling on his brow—“considering there’s a hearing tomorrow regarding your competency, you don’t have the right.”

Wow. The doctor had always seemed so calm and cool—soldiers must scare him. Even his hands trembled as he closed a file, patting the cover.

Max stepped forward. “What do you mean, competency hearing?” Anger and concern rode his tone.

Sarah frowned. “I assume my jerk of a brother is having me declared incompetent so he can take over the family stock holdings.” Andrew had sent her to Brancrest for the three-month evaluation—after gaining a court order allowing it. He’d obviously jumped right into having her declared incompetent, thus giving himself power of attorney.

Jase growled low. “What about the Pringle Pharmaceutical stock? She can’t transfer ownership to us?”

She took a step back. Son of a bitch. This was about her grandfather’s company? Hurt slid under the anger. Max had kissed her. Acted like he genuinely liked her. “You’re not getting my stock.”

Max turned to face her, his jaw hardening until it looked like solid rock. “Want to bet?”

That was it. “I’ll help you gain my records from here, then I’m on my own.” She glared at Jase. “The main records room is on the third floor, north corner. Look for the orange cabinets. Everything is in old manila files. There’s also an internal computer system with records.”

“I can blow that.” Jase rubbed his hands together. “Good-bye computer system.”

He and Conn slipped out the door.

Sarah focused on the doctor and leaned both hands atop the desk, leaving clear handprints. “I want my records. Now.”

A door to the side of Robard’s desk opened, a gun leading the way. “I’m afraid I already have those.” White faced with red hair having black tips, a Kurjan flashed sharp fangs.