Page 19 of Taschen (Chosen Few #4)

CHAPTER 19

S ephie’s hands stilled around her paper cup. Pressure built behind her eyes. “What do you mean, Jack? How was Pippa involved?”

Images of the video flashed through her mind at the speed of light. She’d assumed it had fallen into Pippa’s hands and that she’d been hiding it from Clay, afraid to take it to the authorities because doing so would break her brother.

Jack steered his gaze to her and shuffled forward in his seat. “Look, Seph. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I just—I can’t speak to the cops. I don’t want to be involved.”

“You mean up until Yvette was killed? ’Cause you sure as shit were involved until then.” The accusatory tone in Taschen’s voice made Sephie’s hackles rise.

Hadn’t he ever learned you could get more with honey than vinegar?

Jack shot Taschen a withering look. “No shit. After hearing what happened to Pippa and Yvette, you’re damn right I don’t want to end up like that.”

Sephie cleared her throat. “Start at the beginning. How did Pippa get you to record the—I don’t even know what to call it.”

Jack’s expression changed from one of annoyance to one of solemnity. And fear. “It’s the Covenant.” His voice dropped low. Deadly. “Everyone in Hollywood pretends it doesn’t exist. That the rumors are just conspiracy theories. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

Sephie felt Taschen’s body stiffen. His clenched hand on the table told her he was restraining the urge to interrupt.

“What is the Covenant?” she asked quietly. “Who’s in it?”

Jack didn’t shift his gaze from hers, but hesitancy tightened his jaw. “They’re a group of men—perverts—who prey on the innocent.” He looked down and brought the edge of his thumb to the sleeve around his coffee cup. “There’s a couple hundred of ’em at least.”

Sephie’s eyes bulged, and her stomach revolted. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah. It’s like a cesspool of scum that corrodes the industry.” He looked at her again. Loathing and rage simmered in his orbs and slammed into her. “You can’t escape it. No one can. If they set their sights on you, you’re fucked.”

“What’s that mean?” Taschen blurted .

This time she was glad he’d said something. She couldn’t form a single word.

“It means they convert you.” He chortled without humor. “Think about it. There’s no way that many people have the same sick and sadistic fetishes. They bring people in when they’re at the ripest point of their career, have them fall witness to a sacrifice, and, well... then they take part or die right there. Most people take part. Then the Covenant owns them. Blackmail is the only language in this industry.”

Sephie pressed her balled-up fist to her lips. Bile climbed her throat, and she fought the urge not to vomit on the floor. “They’re framed,” she said softly.

He nodded.

“You were framed?” Taschen asked.

Sephie stopped breathing for a moment.

Jack’s shoulders slumped. “I did what I had to do to survive.” He sniffed, and his focus drifted to the window. “I wish I’d gone to the authorities back then. But I was scared.”

He moved his gaze back to Sephie. “I hated them for it. Which is why when Pippa came to me—No, cornered me. I said I’d help her. That was four years ago.”

“How many times did you record?” Taschen asked.

“Three or four. I had a special device that Pippa got ahold of. It wasn’t spotted by their metal detectors. ”

Taschen leaned closer to her. His nearness was a lifeline. Reaching beneath the table, she put her hand on his knee.

“Did Pippa know beforehand that they were using Clay?”

“No. She worried, but never knew for sure. Everyone in Hollywood parties, so it didn’t seem unusual that he had bruises and forgot things about his night. He chalked it up to being drunk and falling.”

“How did she know to come to you?” Taschen asked.

Jack squirmed in his seat. “When she was still on the show”—he shot a look at Sephie—“this was a couple years before you left.” He looked down for two heartbeats, shame etched on his face. “She asked me if I was going to a party that night. I said no. I told her she shouldn’t either. She attended anyway. I—I don’t know what happened, but when she came back to work after the weekend, she was different. Withdrawn.”

Guilt ravaged Sephie’s insides like a termite decimating wood. Her mind reeled, searching for a memory of Pippa seeming unlike herself. Nothing came forth. “Where was I?” The question fell out of her mouth.

Jack lifted a shoulder. “I think you were away. Yvette had you on an audition out of town.”

Sephie nodded slowly. Yvette had tried to keep Pippa from the parties as well, but unlike Sephie, Pippa had wanted to socialize, to be in the limelight. “I don’t remember her telling me anything.”

Jack’s mouth hardened to a thin line. “Probably because she didn’t remember. She might’ve suspected something happened, but didn’t know. Anyway, I think that’s why she came to me. I’d tried to warn her, so she knew I was aware of some of the shit going on.”

“So she asked you to film?”

He nodded. “Mind you, she didn’t come to me until years later. At that point, she had Yvette in her corner. They both convinced me the only way out was to expose what the Covenant was doing.” He snorted. “That didn’t work out well for them.” He sighed. “I’ve got a job in Berlin. I leave next week. I’m getting the hell away from this.”

“Do you still attend the auctions?” Taschen asked.

Jack grimaced. “I try not to. They hold one per month, probably six victims at a time. It’s not expected that you participate in each one, but attendance is monitored.”

“Participate how? I wouldn’t think they’d just let everyone sit in the audience.”

Jack turned into himself. Then sad, tired eyes looked from Taschen to her. “I’ve had to do things I’m not proud of to stay alive.”

Anger beat through her. Part of her wanted to know what he’d done, but she wouldn’t get a confession here and now. Plus, the fact that Jack had a conscience and had been brave enough to get the video of Clay was the only reason they were here. The only reason they even had a chance to expose the Covenant.

“You said there are other videos,” she said. “Where are they?”

He withdrew a small envelope from his pocket. “They’re in a safety-deposit box in Portland. I gave Pippa the one of Clay because... well, it didn’t feel right for me to use that. I wanted her to decide what to do with it.” He tapped the brown envelope. “I was supposed to give this to Pippa before she died, so she could use it in her case. There’s a key inside with the bank address and box number. After I’m gone, do what you want with it.”

Taschen reached across the table. He took the envelope and slid it into the pocket of his jeans. Hopefully they could return to Portland over the next couple days. They’d be heading there for Yvette’s funeral, but that could be a week away, and she didn’t want to wait that long.

The air in the room suddenly felt thick. Her head swam. She needed fresh air and she needed it now. “Thanks for meeting us,” Sephie managed to say.

He gave them each a brisk nod. “Take care of yourself, Seph. I mean this in the best way, but I hope we don’t see each other again.” He tapped his knuckles on the table and stood, abandoning the coffee he hadn’t touched .

He left the café, but his words clung to her like metal shavings to a magnet. The warning was too foreboding for her liking.

Taschen curled his fingers beneath her elbow. “Let’s go.”

They stood and moved away from the window.

Crack , crack , crack!

The deafening crash of glass shattering filled the air. Taschen took her to the ground, his solid weight a shield. Screams exploded, followed by rushing footsteps.

“Get down!” Taschen’s command rumbled against her spine.

More bullets fired.

“Move, move, move!” someone shouted. “I’ll cover you.”

Taschen hauled her from the ground and rushed her toward the entrance. Thank God his SUV sat right out front. With a gun in one hand, he dropped her arm so he could open the front passenger door. She took two paces toward the vehicle. Her eyes locked with Taschen’s for a millisecond.

Something changed. Alarm sharpened his features. “Get back!” He pushed her shoulders, and she took several steps in retreat.

Kaboom!

Smoke filled her vision and her body blew backward. Her back smacked into something hard, and her teeth slammed together, rattling her jaw .

“Taschen . . .”

The broken word slipped from her parted lips. Maybe it was no more than a thought. She coughed as smoke rushed into her lungs. Debris billowed around her. She tried to focus on the scene, to locate Taschen, but her vision was too blurry.

Pain pulsed through her body. Someone was screaming. It might have been her.

She had to get up. Had to find Taschen. Using all of her strength, she placed both hands on the cement beneath her. The movement made the world tilt on its axis, and the ground rushed up to meet her. Before her face hit the concrete, hands were beneath her.

Taschen. Thank god.

She was pulled over a large shoulder. But something was off. The man didn’t speak. Nor did he handle her gently. Panic broke through the buzzing in her ears.

No, no, no.

He wasn’t Taschen. She kicked and squirmed, but the pressure on her stomach from his shoulder made every movement painful. Sirens wailed. Tires screeched. The man opened a rolling door. A van. She summoned a scream but only a croak came out.

Her gaze landed on something. A muscled torso showing through a tattered t-shirt. Jean-clad thighs —

Taschen! His face was turned away, his back flat on the ground.

Oh god no.

***

Taschen groaned. His ears rang. He turned his head and pain shot through his skull. The unrelenting surface at the back of his head made him wince.

Rough hands shook his shoulder. “Taschen! Fuck!”

Brick. Why the hell did he have to scream?

He forced open his eyes and stared at the black smoke blotting out the blue sky. The ringing in his ears lowered to a dull hum as the cry of sirens hit him.

Sephie.

He lurched into a sitting position. Blood rushed from his head and heat spread across his cheeks.

Brick stared him in the face, too close for comfort.

“Where is she?” Taschen barked. The demand came out scratchy and sent him into a coughing fit.

Brick shook his head. Despair hung in his friend’s eyes. Taschen’s insides seized and cold shock held him in place.

Rami dropped down beside him, pressing some kind of cloth to his head. “Gonna need some stitches I think, bro. Another scar to add to that ugly head of yours. ”

He swatted Rami away and staggered to his feet. “Sephie!” he called, stumbling down the sidewalk. His hip screamed and his lower back ached, but other than that he was good.

Adrenaline did that to a guy.

Rami’s forceful hand hooked Taschen’s elbow. “Dude,” he bellowed.

Taschen whirled around and locked his gaze on Rami’s face. They stood at almost equal height. Rami’s bright blue eyes crinkled with concern, making the vertical tattoo over his right eye crease. “They took her.”

His statement hit Taschen like a bowling ball to the solar plexus. “She can’t be gone,” he wheezed.

“A guy grabbed her. I was inside fighting one of the men who came in through the back exit. As soon as I got a bullet in him, the bomb went off and sent me to my ass.”

Pain like a hot poker pierced Taschen’s chest. He grasped his pec and struggled to breathe.

Rami’s concern turned to distress. “Sit. You’re gonna have a heart attack.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to find her.”

“No shit. But you’re bleeding from that big-ass head, and if I don’t stop the blood, you’re gonna be useless.”

An ambulance screeched to a stop nearby. Brick ran over and talked to the paramedics while Rami hauled his ass to the vehicle. Sitting felt like a damn crime, but Rami was right. Taschen couldn’t find Sephie while leaving a blood trail.

A paramedic had him glued and bandaged in five minutes. She told him he’d need to get his head looked at, but he didn’t give a shit about that right now. When the woman left to help someone else, Taschen pinned Brick and Rami with his stare. “What did you see?”

For the first time, he noticed that Brick had a gash on his head too. Not nearly as bad as his own, but there was some swelling and a bit of blood.

“I watched your SUV blow up. If you hadn’t stepped away when you did, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He nodded. “I heard something ticking and I just—I knew.” Regret sent his stomach to the ground. He should’ve reacted faster.

Most car bombs were attached to the ignition. Considering the cocksuckers would’ve had to plant the device when the SUV was parked outside the café, they’d have gone with the quickest option—right beneath the wheel well on the driver’s side, judging by the smoke still billowing from his vehicle.

It’d all happened so fucking fast. He’d gotten Sephie back, but not far enough. If he’d lain on top of her, they both would’ve been too close to the explosion. Either way, she’d been hit.

He hadn’t done his job. Hadn’t protected her from the worst threat imaginable .

Rami pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ve gotta call the others.” He glanced at Taschen. “You good?”

He gave a brisk nod even though it felt as if a fucking construction crew were working on his temples. Dropping his gaze to the ground, he squeezed the edge of the thin mattress he sat on.

“She was alive when they took her.” Brick’s words made him look up. “I saw her. She looked at you on the ground. Realized she was in danger.”

Shame hardened his gut. He wanted to rage, to put his fist through the wall of the ambulance, or blame Brick for not stopping them, but he couldn’t. This was no one’s fault but his own.

“I wanted to shoot,” Brick choked out, in response to Taschen’s silent question. “They were just getting in the van by the time I found her.”

“You got hit, too.”

Brick shrugged. “Not as hard as you did. But yeah, it took me a minute to get to my feet.” He gave Taschen a level look. “We’ll find her.”

Pressure built against his sinuses. He couldn’t have a mental breakdown. Not now. But Jesus, he was helpless. He snapped up his gaze. “Where’s Jack?”

Brick recoiled. “Ah, hell. I didn’t even think about him.”

“He wasn’t too far ahead of us. No way he missed the explosion.”

“I saw him park when he arrived. He was across the street and three spaces back. No way he drove off that fast.”

“He wouldn’t have stayed if he saw the blast. He was already running scared, planning to get out of the country. I don’t think he was involved with the explosion.”

Brick moved out of the ambulance and returned a minute later. “His car’s gone.”

Taschen nodded slowly. Yeah, the coward wouldn’t have stuck around to speak to police, let alone see if anyone was hurt.

Rami appeared, his expression grave. “Ghost is already into the street surveillance system to see what we can find. He’ll call back. We’ll find her, dude.”

Agitation brought him to his feet. “I can’t wait for Ghost.” The proclamation was stupid. There was nowhere for him to look except Raymond Schaffer’s house, and that bastard lived in Hollywood. “Take me to the office. We need more than one person on this.”

“Good plan. We’ve got a medical kit there. That’ll help you keep going.”

With his hands balled into fists, he followed the guys to their SUV. He got in the back seat and let his gaze travel out the window.

His mind replayed the blast. The faint ticking sound came first. Instinct kicked in less than a second later. He’d let go of the door and moved toward Sephie, sending her barreling backward .

The deafening boom had combusted his senses.

The image of Sephie, her eyes huge, her mouth wide open in a silent scream, played on repeat. He closed his eyes, rested his elbows on his knees, and held his face in his palms.

In one instant, she’d been blown away from him. He’d reached for her, ready to lift her and run, but before his brain could send the message to his limbs, she was gone. A flower ripped from a field by a tornado.

Angst wrenched his stomach. Nausea pooled at the back of his throat. They had her. He couldn’t wrap his fucking head around it.

Never in his life had he felt this kind of paralyzing fear. The memory of Yvette’s glassy-eyed stare and blood-soaked bed made his head spin.

If he found Sephie like—

No. He couldn’t go there. He wouldn’t stop until he found her, and if they touched one hair on her head, so help him god, he’d murder every bastard involved.