by R Phoenix
“Good. Then we’ve justifiable reason to bring Kolt in — get him registered too.” That would keep the incubus from being picked up by his fae master a while longer.
Emma looked like she was going to say something, but she pressed her lips closed into a thin line.
“What?” Bryce asked.
Before Emma could reply, Bryce’s phone rang again. This time, it was just his, and Bryce frowned. He glanced down at the car kit again.
Gideon. Why the fuck was Gideon calling him, of all fucking people? He looked at Emma, aware that she had seen the name. Gideon was his supposed CI. He couldn’t ignore a call like that. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly before answering. “This is not a good time, so unless it’s important—”
“I need your help,” Gideon’s voice sounded strange when he interrupted Bryce. “And yeah, it hurts to say that. Don’t get used to it.”
Bryce laughed shortly but shook his head. “As much as I enjoy hearing that, man, I’m in the middle of something. I’m just pulling up to the Lucky Blight. So unless it’s like life and death, I’m sure it can wait,” he said, pretty much ready to hang up on the asshole. He might’ve too, if it wasn’t for the actual plea for help that had him curious.
Gideon’s laugh was ugly. “You can go in there and get your ass kicked again, or you can earn the ass kicking I already gave you and help Kolt. Your choice.”
Not many of those words actually processed in his mind except for the last part about helping Kolt.
“What?” he asked, too quick, and too distracted. “What about him?”
“Besides the part where he’s lost his fucking mind? Nothing.”
Bryce glanced at Emma. The more she heard of this conversation, the more shit everyone was going to be in, but he wasn’t sure how to communicate to Gideon that he wasn’t alone without sounding suspicious as fuck. It wasn’t like he had a clean record; he was a fraud and a dirty cop paid off by a fae to boot now.
“Is he with you?” he asked carefully.
“You don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for this. Are you helping me or not?” Gideon asked.
Bryce could hear the sound of a train on the line. He pulled into the first spot on the casino’s parking lot but kept the engine running. “Is he with you or not, Gideon?” he asked sharply. “I need to know, or I can’t do shit. I need to see him first.”
“Yes!” Gideon snapped. “So fucking help me, Ackerman, if you fuck me over on this. Help him or fuck off. Just tell me one way or the other.”
“All right, calm your fucking tits,” Bryce answered gruffly. “Where are you?” he asked, gesturing for Emma to take a note.
“Stuck behind a fucking train,” Gideon said, and he swore under his breath. “Near Seventh and Main.”
“Seventh and Main, all right. I can be there in ten.”
Gideon grunted, and Bryce took that as an agreement when the call ended. He could feel Emma staring at him without even looking at her.
“What are you doing, Bryce?”
“What I was going to do in the first place,” he said with a sigh, putting the car in reverse. “Just not here.”
Emma fell silent, tapping quickly on her phone as he reversed out of the spot and exited the parking lot again.
He glanced at her, trying to convince himself he wasn’t worried about who she was tattling to. But he was, and it lasted about five seconds before he couldn’t help himself. “Is this the part where you rat me out for being too close to this?”
“This is the part where I tell Percy I got his message, so he doesn’t call at a bad time,” Emma retorted. “You know how he is. It’s going to be driving him crazy as it is.”
Bryce immediately shut up and just nodded instead. That was fair and reasonable, unlike him and his remarks.
It didn’t stop him from wondering what Emma was doing the rest of the way, because she seemed a little too intent on her phone as he drove. He tried to peek over at it, but she gave him a look that he pretended to be oblivious to as he innocently refocused on the road.
“Might wanna stop posting cat pictures on your Facebook,” he told her as they finally found where Gideon was waiting for them. “We’re here.”
Emma finished typing, then shoved her phone in her pocket.
Gideon was there as promised, leaning against his fancy fucking car, but there was no sign of Kolt.
Bryce killed the engine and gently grabbed Emma’s forearm when she moved to open the door. “Maybe it’s best if you wait here a minute,” he said cautiously. “He’s my CI, but he’s twitchy as fuck.”
“I could’ve finished posting the rest of my cat pictures,” Emma replied, but she didn’t move except to shake his hand off of her arm — which was a good thing, because Gideon was going to flip his shit, in all likeliness.
Bryce drew in a fortifying breath and got out of the car, closing the door behind him and casting a cautious look around. “Something about needing help?” he asked Gideon. It occurred to him that this could all be a trap of some sort to get him out of the way as a potential loose end or liability. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been threats, and Bryce had been a shitty fucking informant.
Gideon nodded, but he glanced at Emma in the passenger seat of the car, and his expression turned stony. “Who’s she?”
“My date. What do you care? I thought you didn’t have time for this shit?” Bryce responded.
“I don’t have time to deal with—” Gideon cut himself off, taking a step away from his own sleek as fuck car and opening the back door just enough to show Bryce an unconscious man lying bound across the back seat. “I don’t know where to take him,” Gideon said.
Bryce craned his neck to get a better look, not sure what to say. He had no way of checking whether Gideon had actually brought him Kolt or any random guy of the street. Whoever it was was definitely unconscious, but he looked nothing like Bryce had expected.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Percy explaining the finer points of an incubus’ ability to alter their appearance to attract their prey more easily, but he hadn’t really considered it until just then. He stepped closer to the car to see if he could spot anything that would prove it was Kolt. The bracelet, for example.
“And why is that? You’re not usually at a loss of what to do.” Clearly, he’d already tried hitting the problem. Otherwise, Kolt wouldn’t be out cold.
Gideon snarled, slamming the car door in Bryce’s face and making him take a quick step back. “If you didn’t want to help, you should’ve said so instead of wasting my time. Now fuck off.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Bryce snarled back. “How about you stop being an asshole for five fucking seconds and just tell me what your master fucking plan was when you knocked some guy out and tied him up, if it wasn’t taking him to Leandro. If you want my fucking help, I’m going to need to know what I’m helping with, asshole.”
Gideon’s shoulders slumped, and he looked exhausted all of a sudden. “My only plan was not getting dead,” he muttered. “I couldn’t talk him down.”
“Talk him down from what? I’m trying to play catch up here, but all I have is a pile of dead bodies and a kidnapped man who may or may not be a homicidal incubus, Gideon,” Bryce said, a little milder now — as talking had never been the jackass’s strong suit, really. Threats and punching were more his thing.
“It’s him,” Gideon replied grimly.
“You’re sure?” Bryce asked, cautious as not to set the guy off again.
“I’m fucking sure, Ackerman. Now promise me he won’t get hurt,” Gideon said, locking eyes with him. “You said the Organization neutered you, but I’m not saying shit if it’s going to end up fucking him over.”
“I wouldn’t have offered to help if I wasn’t serious about it,” Bryce said, which he knew was evasive. But given the nature of the Organization, he wasn’t sure he could actually make that promise. Emma hadn’t had much faith in his ability to help either, and the communal do
ubt was starting to wear down his confidence. “He won’t be worse off than what I’ve been trying to get him away from, okay?” He could promise that much.
Gideon searched his gaze a moment longer with that calculating glare he always had.
Bryce didn’t know what the fuck to think about the man being so hell-bent on protecting Leandro’s incubus all of a sudden. He had always seemed loyal to Leandro first, but perhaps his allegiance was shifting. Maybe there was a heart in the fucker somewhere.
Finally, just as Bryce was starting to lose patience, Gideon said, “He tried to fucking eat me. He was too drunk on power and booze to care about what he was doing.”
“So, the strip club?” Bryce asked cautiously. He tried to look through the car window behind Gideon, but the tint in the glass made it impossible to see inside.
Gideon followed Bryce’s gaze to the blackened window. “Yeah,” he said. His jaw clenched. “Don’t forget you fucking promised you’d keep him safe.”
“Do you know why he snapped?” Bryce asked, still speaking in a mild tone — though he wasn’t going to address the promise. This wasn’t fucking high school, and he hadn’t promised anything substantial.
“He was on a diet. He decided he didn’t want to be,” Gideon replied.
“If you keep dodging my questions, we’ll be here forever,” Bryce warned him.
Gideon glanced back at Bryce so intently that for a hot minute he feared they might kiss. It was like the thug could see into him, or right through him — which would’ve been a ridiculous thought if he wasn’t so sure Gideon was one of the otherkin.
“Kolt broke his thumb to get out of the charmed bracelet he was wearing.” Bryce opened his mouth to speak, but Gideon went on, “The bracelet kept him from feeding, and he was being starved. He finally lost it and ditched. Couldn’t track him down until the club. I took too long,” he said, an edge of bitterness in his voice.
“And when you did find him, you knocked him out.”
No fucking wonder Kolt had tried to eat him. The incubus had probably thought Leandro’s thug would take him back to the casino.
“Seeing as how he was gonna keep going if I didn’t, yeah, I sure as fuck knocked him out,” Gideon retorted. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Does Leandro know?” he asked shortly.
Gideon’s expression flashed with something, but it was gone too quickly for Bryce to read it. “That he’s gone, oh yeah. What he did or where he went—” He shook his head. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Good,” Bryce said with a nod. “All right. I’ve a plan, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one. I’ll take him and bring him in for questioning.” Gideon tensed, but Bryce held up a hand to keep the other man from interrupting him with his objections. “He won’t be charged, I promise.” He’d make it go away, one way or another. After hearing what had prompted the murder spree, there was no question in his mind anymore.
Gideon remained tense though, giving him a skeptical, narrow-eyed look.
“You trusted me enough to call me,” Bryce pointed out. “You wanted my help, so let me help.”
Gideon stared at the car window for a long moment then nodded. He opened the door again, and Bryce saw the way he favored his right hand as he began to pull Kolt out from the back seat. “Get him there fast,” he warned. “He fed deep. Healing the concussion from the blow to his head should burn some of it, but he’ll still be dangerous. Don’t touch him when he wakes up.”
“Emma,” Bryce called back, turning for his own car and gesturing for her help before he too grabbed hold of the unconscious incubus. “Get the back door open,” he instructed her when she stuck her head out of the car door.
Emma got out of the car, opening the back door. She eyed Gideon, who returned her look with a stony one of his own before he and Bryce settled Kolt — ridiculously gently — into the back seat. Bryce caught Gideon’s grimace as he leaned on his hand to back out of the car.
“All right,” Bryce said, with a last look at Gideon’s busted hand. It looked broken, even with his layman's experience. “You go do your job, I’ll go do mine. I’ll call you with updates. Soon,” he promised with a nod.
Gideon didn’t acknowledge the look at his hand. “I’ll hold Leandro off as long as I can,” he said grimly, then finally turned back to his car.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Even after several hours lying awake in bed, Leandro couldn’t fathom why Kolt would have done it. He hadn’t been there when his incubus had slipped the bracelet and abandoned him, but he’d heard about it in detail — again and again, in his attempt to uncover the reason for it. Kolt belonged to him and had for so long now that Leandro could scarcely remember a time without him.
He had protected the incubus from the repercussions of his actions for years. He had taken him in and kept him safe. He had hidden him and the murder from the Organization that surely would’ve condemned Kolt if Leandro hadn’t buried the lead.
Kol’tso had been naive, audacious, and rebellious, not thinking of the consequences of his actions. At least he’d been clever enough to take the offer of help when Leandro had extended it. It had been the start of something beautifully symbiotic, even if the incubus had always remained an audacious thing at heart.
He had given Kolt everything. He’d fed him, clothed him, and cared for him. If he’d punished the incubus, it had been because he deserved it. Surely Kolt had to know that. He should’ve gone to Leandro and apologized, pleaded with him, instead of hurting himself — Leandro’s property — and leaving.
Kolt had had no right to leave. He had pledged himself to Leandro, and he would have his slave back.
Fatigue wasn’t what plagued Leandro, even though he hadn’t slept since Kolt had left. The fae weren’t as weak as other species, and he was one of the most powerful of his kind in this realm. He could go without sleep for days if need be… but that didn’t mean he wanted to give up his routine. He had a habit of pulling Kolt into his arms at night and breathing in the scent of him. He always fell asleep with his nose pressed into that gorgeous blond hair and woke to the warmth of a body tailored to him and him alone each day.
Except today.
Today, he was alone. He bathed alone, dressed alone, and had breakfast alone. His mood soured more with every passing moment. He’d thought he’d reached the height of his rage when he’d learned of Kolt’s departure — of his employees’ inability to stop him! — but that had been a hot anger. This was disappointment and the slow fury wrought of ice he sought to keep control over.
It would be acceptable to express his displeasure over losing his slave, but much more than that would be frowned upon. Kolt was, after all, property. One might get angry about losing a valuable possession, but he was above useless human emotions such as hurt and grief.
Wasn’t he?
“Of course I am,” Leandro said to his reflection, his voice cutting into the silence of the bathroom. He loathed the quiet, the solitude, the knowledge that he couldn’t simply call in his incubus to touch and admire — to entertain him when he was bored of his own perfection. He fastened the last button on his shirt, sullenly wishing Kolt was there to do it instead.
He cast one more glance over his pristine appearance in the mirror, but his gaze fell upon the glint of the golden bracelet. Kolt had ungratefully abandoned it on the bar when he’d veritably chewed his hand off to get away from it. His nose wrinkled in distaste before he snatched the bracelet up and shoved it in his pocket before stalking to the door leading down to his casino.
It felt as though everything should be dark, abandoned, empty, but it was as bright and glamorous as ever. People gambled and drank, chatting and handing over their own prized possessions when they lost to the house. They all acted like nothing was wrong, and that cold fury threatened to sweep over him and destroy every living being in there for their complicity in the charade.
He strode to the bar, a flicker of pleasure slicing through the anger when he s
aw Arla blanch at the sight of him fair crackling with energy and barely suppressed magic. “News?” he asked.
“Nothing unusual on the floor,” Arla reported carefully, busying herself with wiping down the bar instead of looking up at him. “Gideon just got—”
“Where?” Leandro interrupted her, the mirth over her discomfort vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
“Here, sir.”
Leandro turned to face Gideon. “Where is he?” he demanded, inspecting his second-in-command. The nephilim looked as though he hadn’t slept, hair tousled and clothes rumpled, with a smell—
And his hand…
Gideon’s expression was blank, which was always irritating but seemed especially so right then. “The Organization picked him up.”
Leandro stared at him as utter shock rendered him silent. At least, quiet until the shock began to be consumed by the cold rage in his bones. “How could you let that happen?” he asked, his eyes drifting back to Gideon’s injured hand. It was swollen, an angry red color like Leandro’s anger.
It would make him feel much better if he were to grab it and potentially hear the man howl in pain, to shatter the unreadable, calm veneer provided by that celestial blood. Would he scream? Leandro didn’t think he’d ever heard him make more than a grunt regardless of the injury.
“It wasn’t by choice,” Gideon replied. “Arla, first aid kit?”
Leandro glared at him, but he didn’t stop Gideon from taking the kit from the bartender. “This way. Our patrons don’t need to see you tend to that,” he said coldly.
“I’ll make sure to wrap my broken hand before reporting in next time, sir,” Gideon said, using that same infuriating, passionless voice.
Leandro ignored him, leading him to one of the meeting rooms. He closed the door behind them, and his hand slipped into his pocket, fidgeting with the golden chain of Kolt’s bracelet. “Well?” he asked before the other man could go more than a few steps.
Gideon sat on the nearest couch and opened the kit, not looking up as he replied, “He murdered the human with the car, Nero, and everyone who was at the Pussy Cat Club.”
