The Templar's Code

CHAPTER 87

The hammer came down on Caedmon’s left hand with such violent force, he screamed in agony. The pain unbearable, he retched all over the table. One did not have to be a trained physician to know that more than a few carpal bones had been broken.

Trapped between the conscious and unconscious worlds, he sagged against his chair, his chin dropping onto his vomit-splattered chest. An instant later, he slipped into the latter world.

How many minutes passed, he had no idea, blissfully unaware of the passage of time.

Consciousness returned piecemeal, bogged down with an excruciating pain centered in his mutilated left hand.

Focus on something other than the pain, he silently ordered.

An impossible command, the very act of pulling air into his lungs an agonizing labor.

Not entirely certain of his whereabouts, Caedmon glanced around the windowless room. As if on cue, the steel door on the far side of the room swung on a rusty hinge.

A stylishly attired man with a battered face entered the room. “My stoic Englishman has finally opened his beautiful blue eyes. I trust that you’re enjoying yourself.” Smiling, he fixed his gaze on Caedmon’s bloodied and mangled hand.

As though a bucket of ice water had just been tossed on his head, Caedmon instantly revived.

“A jolly good time was had by all,” he snarled, glaring at the sadistic bastard. Hatred the only weapon in his arsenal.

“And to think the night is still young.”

Caedmon inwardly groaned. Mystics, the chronically obsessed, and serial killers all shared a common trait — insomnia, the ability to function on little more than a cat nap.

Saviour Panos seated himself at the table. “We have much in common, you and I.”

“We breathe the same air — that’s all that we have in common.”

“A cunning man, even now, face bashed, hand broken, you are trying to figure out a way to disarm—” He broke off in midstream and glanced at the mobile clipped to his waist, the device emitting a muffled whhrrr. “Ah! Your lady love has finally returned my earlier call. I took the liberty of photographing you while you slept. A little memento to ensure her cooperation.”

Smirking, Panos took the call. “Perfect timing! My sleeping beauty has just aroused.”

Caedmon felt the sting of tears. Edie was no match for a monster like Saviour Panos. Why in God’s name didn’t you go to the airport? Although he hadn’t done the tossing, he knew that Edie had been thrown to the wolves. His fault.

Forgive me, love.

A few seconds into the call, Panos’s mocking expression morphed into one of thunderous rage.

Jabbing his finger against the mobile, he disconnected the call. “That bitch!”

Hearing the rage in the other man’s voice, Caedmon suffered a bum-clenching burst of panic.

Damn it, love. What in God’s name have you done?