The Darkest Touch

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Isabelle did her best to appear calm and patient on the surface, but inside she was fuming.

Dalton had tucked her mother’s diary in his back pocket. He hadn’t left her side the entire time the yacht had cruised to Sicily. Did he think she was going to jump overboard and try to swim her way to freedom?

Not that the thought hadn’t occurred to her. But her head eventually cleared and common sense prevailed. She’d wait until they reached land. Then she’d make a run for it.

The yacht docked off Catania and she was allowed to pack her things. With Dalton standing guard over her, of course. Odd that she’d never found him so imposing-until now.

Of course he’d been damn imposing when he’d thrown her against the wall and made love to her. Her body heated as she remembered his awesome power, the way he mastered her body, took her with such force. At the time she’d welcomed it, needed someone to take her like that. She’d never felt such force, such power coming from one man. With Dalton, she’d felt an equal, the beginnings of a relationship that could be explosive. Cravings had built inside her that she’d never experienced before.

She’d felt such hope, such stirrings. In a short period of time, he had evoked a fierce need in her.

Beyond the physical connection, there had been a meeting of their minds. They were so similar in many ways. He understood her, or at least had seemed to.

No, he had understood her. She felt it deep inside. No amount of acting on his part could have fooled her.

She shuddered, trying to erase the vivid images of the two of them together that still made her body burn.

Hot tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them back, hating that weakness, hating him. He’d used her. She’d always chosen the wrong men. Angelique had always told her she had no sense where men were concerned, that she was a lousy judge of character.

Once again, Angie had been right.

So why did her body still yearn for Dalton? Why did she think Dalton could actually help explain this mess to her, that he might be able to help her? How could she yearn with hope, feel the need to reach out for a man who had betrayed her? What the hell was wrong with her? He was the damn enemy.

They took the launch from the yacht to the dock, and climbed off. Isabelle noticed that only she and Dalton disembarked. The rest of the crew stayed on board the yacht and the mini headed back toward it. From what she could see, it looked like the crew was making ready to take off. Without the two of them.

So they wouldn’t be going back to the yacht. Then again, the boat probably didn’t even belong to Dalton, since everything about him was one big lie.

That meant this would be her chance to make a getaway, to get lost in the crowd and disappear.

What she’d do after that was uncertain. All she knew was she had to make a grab for her mother’s diary and get as far away from Dalton as possible.

Being near him clouded her judgment, devastated her senses. She couldn’t think clearly with him around.

She couldn’t trust him or anything he’d told her. She wanted nothing to do with him and his supposed band of demon hunters.

“I’m hungry,” she said, motioning to the group of vendors along the crowded street ahead.

Dalton frowned. “There was plenty of food on the yacht this morning.”

“I wasn’t hungry then. I am now.”

He lifted his shoulders in an exasperated sigh, then checked his watch. “All right. Let’s go. I’ve arranged for a car, so we need to get back to the pickup point in ten minutes.”

He held on to her arm and maneuvered her past the buyers and vendors in the marketplace. The street was narrow and with carts and people, that meant a tight squeeze. Perfect.

“There’s a coffee cart up ahead with rolls. Let’s head to that one. I really need an espresso,” she said, trying to sound eager and focused only on food.

He nodded and took her hand, leading the way.

It couldn’t have gone better. With him in the lead, they were single file. She could see the diary in his back pocket, they were jam-packed in with people crushing against them, and now was her chance. Her pulse raced, her heart pounding as she plotted her move.

She lifted the diary, at the same time jerking her hand from his, pivoted, and took a sharp left into the crowd, pushing her way past vendors and buyers who yelled and gestured to her in angry Italian.

She wanted to apologize for her rudeness, but she couldn’t. Her life, her freedom was at stake. And she knew Dalton was right on her heels. She didn’t have the foggiest idea where she was headed; she only knew she was literally running for her life.

Trying to stay within the relative safety of the dense crowd, she weaved in and out, turning east and ducking down, hoping Dalton couldn’t see her. She jerked off her sweater so maybe he wouldn’t be able to spot her by her clothing, then continued to stay low, slipping between two fruit carts generously populated with customers.

The vendors gestured at her wildly and cursed in Italian for her to get out of there, no doubt thinking she was in there to steal from them. Isabelle ignored them, practically on her hands and knees now as she moved through the back of their cart area and out the other side. She hoped they wouldn’t shout for the local authorities that a thief was amongst them. That would only alert Dalton to her whereabouts.

She heard nothing and the vendors stopped yelling. Maybe they realized she wasn’t stealing anything. Taking a moment to pause and turn, checking her surroundings, she didn’t spot Dalton anywhere. Still, she wasn’t about to stop. She pushed on, keeping her brisk pace, but this time only at a walk so she wouldn’t draw suspicion to herself. Still, she stayed within the morning crowds until she found a dark side street. She ducked up the street and was greeted with mercifully cool shade.

Having been to Catania before, it only took her a moment to gather her bearings. This was a business section. All she had to do was take a taxi to the train station nearby and get the hell out of here-disappear so Dalton could never find her.

She kept to the shadows, sticking close to the buildings, especially near the alleys in case she had to duck down one if she spotted Dalton.

“Isabelle.”

She froze, turning quickly at the sound of her name.

It wasn’t Dalton. A tall, well-dressed man stepped out of an alley.

She didn’t recognize him, but he seemed friendly enough, smiling as he motioned to her. Pinned to the wall of a building, she wasn’t about to budge. For all she knew he could be working for Dalton.

“Who are you?” She clutched her bag closer, prepared to tear off in the opposite direction.

“I’ve been sent by your sister. Angelique has been looking for you. Hurry, we need to get out of here.”

Relief flooded her. She’d never been happier to hear her sister’s name. “Angie sent you?”

“Yes. I saw you get off the yacht. I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Your sister is frantic.” He looked down one end of the street, then the other, then back at her, motioning with his hand. “Let’s go. Hurry. Before he catches up.”

He knew her sister’s name, and that Dalton was chasing her. Should she trust him? What if it was a setup?

She paused, uncertain and yet desperate. Dalton would find her any minute.

“Please, Isabelle. Your sister is waiting.”

“Where?”

“Izzy, come on!”

Angelique! She heard her sister’s voice around the corner. It was Angie’s voice, wasn’t it?

Isabelle didn’t feel that connection, that warmth she usually felt when she was near her sister. Yet she so wanted it to be her. “Angelique is here?”

He nodded. “Yes. Now hurry.”

Where else did she have to go? She was desperate. And for once in her life, she really needed Angelique.

She pushed off the wall and moved toward him. He slid around the corner and disappeared into the alley.

Isabelle started to follow, but as soon as she got to the corner of the building someone grabbed her arm. She gasped and looked up to find Dalton’s face glaring down at her.

No! “Let me go! My sister is here.”

Dalton shook his head. “No, she’s not.”

“I heard her.”

“You heard what they wanted you to hear, Isabelle. It’s a trick.”

She didn’t believe him. More lies. She shook her head, tried to jerk her wrist out of his grasp, but he held tight.

“Put these on. Now.”

He handed her a pair of sunglasses. What the hell?

She tried to pull away, but his iron grip on her arm meant she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted to drop to the ground and cry. She’d been so close to escape.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered, “but you’re wrong. That thing you think was about to rescue you is a demon, and it wasn’t your sister’s voice. Now put these on. They’re eye protection.”

A demon? “He’s human. What are you talking about?”

“It’s not human, Isabelle. Let me prove it to you.”

If he’d take her around the corner, she could maybe break free again and get to her sister. It was at least a chance. Sighing in defeat, she slid on the sunglasses. They wrapped tightly around her eyes, darkening everything around her. “I can barely see.”

“Good. Now follow me.”

Like she had a choice? If she tried to run now he’d just grab her again. He pulled her in front of him and she had nowhere to go.

Shielded by Isabelle and the building, Dalton drew his bag off his shoulder and pulled something out, assembling two long metal pieces together with swift, precise movements.

Oh, dear God, it was a gun. Not a regular gun, either, but something she’d never seen before, dark and scarylooking. He zippered up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and grabbed her hand, keeping the weapon alongside his body so no one would see it.

“Stay close to me.” He dragged her around the corner and into the dark alley.

It was even blacker in here than on the shadowed street, not helped by the sunglasses she wore. Why did he make her wear these?

The man was probably long gone by now, figuring she must have changed her mind about going with him.

No, wait. There he was, at the end of the alley. And Angelique was nowhere in sight. There was no exit down this alley, either. Was Dalton right? Had the man lied?

“Get behind me,” Dalton instructed.

She did, then realized there were two men in the alley. The one who’d approached her earlier had sunglasses on, but the other didn’t. His eyes were such a pale blue they glowed. Okay, that was weird.

“Demon hunter,” the one said, his voice a low growl.

Dalton raised his weapon, said nothing and fired.

Isabelle smothered a gasp as a blue light emitted from the gun. The man on the left began to melt where he stood, but the other seemed to disappear with lightning quickness.

She had no more than blinked and the other man had moved in front of Dalton, jerking the weapon out of his hand. Dalton shoved Isabelle out of the way and she landed on her butt on the ground.

This couldn’t be happening. The two men struggled, fighting in hand-to-hand-combat style. But the other man was changing. His fingernails were elongating into claws and his face had turned into a gruesome shape. As he raised his top lip, she could see fangs.

Recoiling in horror, she pushed off the ground with her heels, trying to get away.

It was a demon. Good God, Dalton hadn’t been lying to her. Could he kill it? Where was his gun? She tore her gaze away from the two of them to scan the alley. His gun was only a few feet from her.

Dalton was strong. But was the demon stronger?

What if the demon killed Dalton? She couldn’t allow that to happen. She had to do something. Scrambling onto her hands and knees, she hurried over to the gun and picked it up, hoping like hell she wouldn’t somehow manage to shoot herself in the process. She launched herself onto her feet and positioned the gun. It was similar to any other type of gun. It had a trigger. If she just aimed and fired. .

No, too close. She might hit Dalton. Oh, God, what was she going to do?

Just then, Dalton and the demon pivoted, and Dalton caught sight of her. He nodded, pushing the demon toward her position.

What was he doing?

Oh, she understood now. She backed against the wall, ready for his signal.

Dalton was amazingly strong, his muscles bulging with effort as he held tight to the demon, keeping hold of its wrists to prevent the demon from embedding its claws in Dalton’s skin. He grimaced, then took a deep breath, pushing at the demon. It released, then Dalton slammed it against the opposite wall.

“Now!” he yelled.

Isabelle tossed the gun at him. Dalton pivoted and fired, and the demon began to melt into a hideous, gelatinous mass.

Dalton bent forward, panting heavily. Isabelle moved to his side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. He didn’t claw or bite me. They secrete lethal, paralyzing toxins, so I was lucky.”

She shuddered, her stomach doing flip-flops as she fought back nausea.

He straightened and looked at her. “You did good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. It was self-preservation. I didn’t want you to die and I’d be left alone with that thing.”

He grinned. “Whatever the reason, you saved my life and I appreciate it.”

Her legs were shaking as she continued to stare at the blob on the ground. “So that was really a demon.”

“Yes.”

She had no choice but to believe him now. But what did that make her? Not one of those things.

He stood and came over to her, resting his palm against her cheek. She searched his face, waiting for him to turn the weapon on her.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re not like that. Come on, let’s get out of here before more of them show up.”

“How did they find me?”

“I don’t know. But I need to get you someplace safe.”

This time, she wasn’t going to argue with him. Dalton retrieved their bags and grabbed his phone, made a quick call, and they headed out of the alley. Fortunately, there were very few passersby and she and Dalton and the demons had been deep in the dark alley, so no one had seen what happened in there. How would they explain it anyway?

Within moments a black SUV with darkened windows arrived and Dalton opened the back door for her. She slid in, feeling safer already.

“These are our people,” he said, nodding to the driver as he climbed in after her and closed the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Up north of town a bit. To a secure location. Your sister is already there.”

“Angelique?” She’d heard her sister’s voice in that alley. The demon had faked it? What would have happened to her if she’d gone with that thing? Isabelle shivered, pinpricks of goose bumps breaking out over her flesh.

She was both elated and nervous about seeing Angie. She looked over at Dalton, who had her bag in his hand. The bag holding her mother’s diary.

Angie would see it. She would find out what was in there. She would know what Isabelle was.

Recalling what she’d just seen in the alley, the knots in Isabelle’s stomach tightened.

That’s not what she was. It couldn’t be.

She turned her head away from Dalton and looked out the window, hating the tears that pooled almost as much as she hated her mother right now.