Disturbance

TWENTY-FIVE

Nicholas Parrish strolled down a pathway leading to an empty cabin. He walked slowly, apparently relaxed, but anger flowed through every inch of his veins. He was fully aware that Kai and Quinn were not fooled by his show of nonchalance, a fact that led to his further irritation with both them and himself.

Something had changed. Not all that many years ago, he was completely master of himself and anyone he chose to dominate.

But then came the injury.

He thought of it now as the injury, even though it was hardly the first time he had been wounded. Before the end of his first few years of childhood, he had become a specialist in enduring pain. Every now and then, memories of those years broke through carefully constructed mental barriers and into his consciousness. They always made him feel a kind of burning rage, for which he had found only one remedy.

Those experiences, he knew, would have destroyed a lesser man.

Injury was not, therefore, something he feared. He had grown taller and stronger and eventually turned on his torturer and repaid her in kind. Many years had passed before he again sustained any serious wound.

Most he had obtained in the course of his hunting. There were those moments-those beautiful, thrilling moments-when he first took hold of a victim. Quite often, those were also the moments in which he suffered minor injuries. He thought longingly now of several of his victims, considered them one by one, reliving that first contact with each: grasping and pulling her against him, her panic as she struggled ineffectively against his superior strength. They were dangerous, those moments before she was completely subdued, because those were the ones in which, despite all his careful planning, there was a slight chance she might escape. So he endured bites, bruises, scratches, kicks-whatever might occur during those struggles-knowing he could withstand much more pain than any victim was likely to try to deal to him.

And then Irene Kelly changed the game.

Even before the injury to his spine, she had been responsible for a serious wound to his shoulder. Had he been an ordinary man, that would have been his undoing. The wound had become infected and caused him a great deal of trouble. That had angered him-surprised him, even-but he had not doubted his ability to achieve revenge.

And then, a few months later, disaster. For the first time in his life, he had failed to kill his intended victims. It should have been easy, doing away with her and her crippled friend. The failure had nearly led to his death.

He felt the bitterness of that failure as he recalled it, replayed it again and again in his mind. Irene Kelly. She had been the one who caused him to be so severely injured-a second time! And worse than the first.

Where was his old self-confidence, his invincibility?

No. He must not let himself fall prey to self-doubt. That would be what anyone else would do.

He was… resurrected. Stronger than ever.

He had studied other killers. He had studied criminal profiling. He knew all the assumptions the police, the FBI, and others were making. Men of his type-they believed they had seen his “type” before-were supposed to work alone, or with one dominated accomplice. He smiled to himself at the thought of their current bafflement.

The smile didn’t last long. His thoughts had circled back to Kai and Quinn.

He anticipated inevitable problems with each of his sons-lions never remained cubs, and only a fool tried to make pets of them. Kai had not matured enough to control his impetuous nature. Quinn was so power-hungry, he’d find world domination to be nothing more than a good start. And Donovan…

Parrish smiled to himself. Donovan might be more like his old man than the other two could possibly imagine. The question was, could Donovan himself be brought to imagine it? In time, in time…

Parrish turned and walked back toward the lodge. His temper was back under control now. He could focus his mind on making the best possible next move and face Kai and Quinn in a better state of mind. He would show them, once again, that he was master here-master of his sons and master of himself.

Irene Kelly had meddled again-the invasion of Kai’s home at this juncture was a nuisance, but it would not help police as much as she undoubtedly hoped it would. She would suffer for her interference.

He thought of Donovan’s report. He was pleased Donovan was keeping such a close eye on her. It was time, he decided, for the next phase of setting the trap.