Angel's Pain. Maggie Shayne

then proceeded to go through the man’s pockets, tearing his clothes in the process. Eventually he located a set of keys and, smiling, pocketed them.

      Dwyer’s eyes widened. “There’s nothin’ in my house that you can use!”

      “No? Well, I tend to disagree, given what I so recently observed through your windows. But I’ll judge for myself once I’ve gone through the place. Tell me, are you expecting your wife home soon?”

      “I—I don’t—We’re divorced.”

      “Convenient.” He smiled slowly, then, unable to contain it, chuckled deep in his chest.

      “What…what’s so damn funny?”

      Gregor met the frustrated, frightened man’s eyes.

      “I was just thinking how many people would kill to be in my position. My former employer becomes my captive. And I can do anything I want to him.”

      “The CIA was good to you, Gregor. We never gave you any reason to—”

      “The CIA used me. Just like you used Reaper. He was content to escape and move on. But I’m smarter than he is, Derrick. I’m turning the tables. I’m going to use you now, to get exactly what I want. And I’m going to enjoy the process.”

      “You’re a bastard.”

      “Yes, I know. Sadly, we’ve wasted too much time to allow me to go visit your home tonight. Tomorrow will have to be early enough. I’ll have one of the drones toss some food and water in to you to get you through the day. I want you alive and kicking for this, after all.”

      He turned, and stepped to the door. “See you tonight, Derrick. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it.”

      Then, stepping into the hall, he closed and locked the door, leaving the man to his thoughts, which would do, Gregor estimated, at least half his job for him.

      The caravan of vehicles arrived at Topaz’s mansion-like home on Emerald Isle, North Carolina, in the dead of the night, which was, Reaper speculated, for the best. Not as many tourists out and about to get a gander at “Shirley,” the bright yellow, customized conversion van that Roxy insisted was nearly human. It would draw a lot of unnecessary attention.

      Topaz’s home sat on a rise near the far end of the long, narrow island, surrounded by scrubby-looking bushes and trees. From the main road, no one could even see the ten-foot fence that bordered the place just within the boundary of flora.

      The lead vehicle in their little vampiric parade was Jack’s Carrera, sleek and black and dangerous-looking, but not terribly out of place. Topaz rode with Jack, naturally. The two rarely seemed to be more than a foot apart these days. Jack used to be a hard-ass, like her, Briar thought. Now he’d gone soft. Fallen in love. Fallen for a fairy tale was more like it, in her considered opinion.

      Roxy drove the canary-yellow van, which managed to keep up, in spite of its bulk. Ilyana sat in the passenger side, Reaper and Briar in the middle set of seats. In the rear seat, Mirabella rode alongside Crisa, and she’d been gently massaging the childlike vampiress’s neck for the last several miles. Bringing up the rear were Seth and Vixen, in the Shelby Mustang Seth had liberated from its former owner. He insisted it would have been presumed destroyed in the fire that had consumed the celebrity’s home, and anyway, it had been covered by insurance. Though Briar doubted any amount of money could compensate for a classic like that one.

      Seth had potential, she thought. Or at least a backbone. And that was worth a lot.

      As the gates swung open to admit them and the van trundled through, Mirabella caught her breath. “This is where my daughter lives?”

      “Yeah,” Roxy said from the driver’s seat. “She’s done pretty well with that money you left her, hasn’t she?”

      “She’s done extremely well,” Mirabella said. “This is stunning.”

      “It is,” Reaper said, even as he frowned at Briar, probably due to the smirk of distaste crossing her face. She didn’t think much of the rich and famous. She’d grown up hard, homeless, on the streets. There probably weren’t too many like her who could think well of those who seemed to have it all, especially those who’d never had to work for it.

      Still, she was aware that Topaz had suffered for her wealth. Not as much as Briar had suffered for her lack of it, though.

      As they pulled to a stop near the doors, the gates closing slowly behind them, Briar muttered, “Why the hell does one person need all this? Where does she even get off having so much?”

      Crisa piped up. “I think it’s pretty.”

      “Yeah, it’s pretty, all right. Pretty freaking ridiculous.”

      “Oh, I don’t know,” Roxy said. “You can’t really judge a person by what they have. No more than you can judge someone for not having anything at all. It’s who they are that counts, don’t you think?”

      “I wasn’t judging her. I don’t care enough to judge anyone. I just think it’s stupid for one person to take up so much space, that’s all.”

      Roxy shut off the engine, opened her door and got out. Then she stretched the kinks out of her back and shoulders, as the others disembarked and headed for the front door.

      Topaz hesitated near the front door, her key ring in her hand.

      “What’s wrong?” Jack asked, searching her face, worry clouding his own.

      Briar rolled her eyes. Here we go again with the sappy, emotional bullshit.

      Topaz lowered her gaze. “I—I haven’t been happy in this place. Not for a long time. Walking in here…it feels like walking back into heartache and tears and—”

      Jack pulled her gently into his arms. “No more of those for you, princess. Not if I have anything to say about it. And I kind of think I do.”

      When he released her and she lifted her head again, there were tears on her cheeks, but she was smiling through them. “I’m being silly. I have everything I’ve ever wanted now. Right here, holding me.”

      He smiled back at her, but there was regret in his eyes. Jack had been a bastard to her in the past, and Briar knew that now he wished he could undo the hurt he’d caused the woman he—gag—loved. He shouldn’t. He’d been being honest. He was who he was. At least, he used to be. Briar wasn’t sure who the hell he was anymore.

      “Everything happens for a reason,” Roxy said. “You two wouldn’t be as good together now if you hadn’t been through what you have.”

      “Maybe not,” Topaz whispered.

      “Always the philosopher, aren’t you, Roxy?” Seth asked.

      Roxy sent him a wink, and everyone smiled in a sickening, whimsical way that made Briar think vomiting might be in order.

      “Are we going inside or what? Castle Kissy-face has been sitting empty long enough, and I’m craving a little me time.” She shot Topaz a look. “I’m assuming I get my own room.”

      “A whole suite, if you want,” Topaz said. “The more space we put between you and the rest of us, the better.” She held Briar’s eyes as she said it, and there was a hint of humor in her eyes. “Grumpy bitch,” she added.

      Before she could stop it, a smile split Briar’s face, and she wished someone would slap it off. She bit it into submission, but it was too late. They’d all seen. Damn.

      “I don’t want you to be by yourself, Briar,” Crisa said. “I want to be with you.”

      Briar closed her eyes and thought, Jeez, Topaz, I need a break from her.

      I hear you, Topaz replied, speaking mentally to her alone. There’s a two-bedroom suite in the west wing. Would that work for you, do you think?