Page 130 of Dark Lover

“I need a drink,” he said. He walked over to the built-in bookcase on one wall, mostly crammed with books, and started pouring scotch. He filled two highball glasses and offered her one.

Sam shook her head. “Where is the page?”

“You’re really in a twist.”

“Don’t get sexist with me.”

“Hemmer has it.”

She choked.

“He fucking ambushed us. He stole the transport. How he intends to open it, well, your guess is as good as mine. I suppose he’ll torture those Rangers. Don’t worry.” His smile was grim as he tossed back half the scotch. “Every Fed, every cop and half the U.S. Army is looking for him. The Rangers won’t give it up easily.”

Her mind raced. “Then go ambush him at his penthouse!”

“Arresting him won’t get us the page. Killing him won’t get us the page. If he has the power, he’ll control us.”

Sam didn’t care about Hemmer. “Ian has been captured. The monk has him in a warehouse in Brooklyn. I have to find him. Help me.”

He touched his right eye. “Gee, can you ask nicely?”

“I am begging, not asking.”

“Sam, I don’t want Maclean to suffer any more than he already has. I’m sorry about what I had to do. I have Kit and a team trying to locate Ian. We’ll bust him out when we do.”

She whirled away, pacing, frantic. “If it’s not too late.”

The light on his intercom blinked. Nick walked over to his desk. “Don’t tell me you found something?”

“A trucker found four dead men, a few hours ago,” Kit Mars said. “The NYPD is on the scene and the call just came in. This one is ours.”

“And?”

“It’s a warehouse in Brooklyn, 2145 West Elm. I threw the addy at Big Mama. Nick, Robert Moran owned it. Guess who’s the landlord now?” Excitement filled her tone. “Rupert Hemmer.”

Nick looked up. “Let’s go.”

Sam was already out the door.

IAN STOOD VERY STILL, staring at the monk.

The monk slowly smiled at him. “Alone at last.”

He gave himself a moment. He recalled the worst moments of his life, inflicted by this demon.

“You were very creative, Ian, escaping as you did. But did you really think I wouldn’t be watching your every move?”

He smiled slowly, coldly. The anger was gone now. There was only killing intent. “Did ye get off on watching me beaten?”

“Beating is too tame for my tastes, and you know it.” When Ian simply stared, the monk’s gaze narrowed. “You’re really not afraid. I will have to change that. You do realize you’re weak, that the drugs are still in your system? Your powers are compromised.”

“I don’t care.” He started toward him.

Alarm flitted through the monk’s eyes. “I could change my mind. And you’ll die today.”

“With pleasure,” Ian said softly. “Because I will take ye with me.”

The monk lifted his hand. Ian saw the blow coming, a black energy force, and he braced for it. It drove him back across the small entryway and he hit the wall, hard. He fell.