Inferno

by Adriana Noir

  Taylor poured the rest of the drinks and slid Marx’s across the counter with a smile she didn’t feel. “I also have some biscuits in the oven, sir. If you will please excuse me, I need to finish setting the table.”

  His voice followed her into the next room, its cavernous boom rattling clear down to the pit of her stomach: “Is it just me or is the little spitfire boasting a bit of an attitude tonight?”

  “It’s just you,” Sebastian replied stiffly. “She’s trying to get my dinner on the table. Guest or not, pleasing me is still her top priority, Marx. Not entertaining you.”

  The director’s deep laugh bowled through her system, leaving her chilled.

  “Touché. Every man should be the king of his own castle, even if only for a night.”

  It wasn’t amusement riding the thundering notes of his voice, or even acceptance. It was something dark and challenging. Resisting the urge to rub the gooseflesh on her arms down, Taylor straightened the napkins and inspected the table. She was about to make her way back into the kitchen when a box sailed through the air in her direction. Catching it, she turned the package in her hands, her brow gathering in confusion.

  “Put those away, and next time grab them yourself when you’re at the store. It’s not my job to get them, and I don’t appreciate the inconvenience.”

  The irritation in Sebastian’s tone only threw her off more. Glancing up, she found Marx leaned against the doorway, his eyes dark and brooding as he took in the exchange. Something was off, she just couldn’t figure out what. He was watching them, inspecting everything, and waiting. But for what?

  Unease crawled down her spine, making her shiver as Taylor tried to play along. “Yes, Sebastian. I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “No it won’t,” he agreed. “Go do as you were told. We will address the issue later.”

  She faltered as Marx’s looming shadow fell over her. His wide body blocked her path, and his slow chuckle felt like ice creeping through her veins.

  “Don’t hold back on my behalf,” he said, trailing his hand across the top of the dining room table. The heavy silver rings circling his fingers glinted ominously in the candlelight. “Now is a good of a time as any, Sebastian. Humans are like puppies. You don’t want to wait to discipline them or they won’t remember what they’re being punished for. Corrective actions should be swift and consistent.”

  Her lungs collapsed. Unable to help it, her eyes darted to Sebastian in a silent plea. If he noticed, he did a good job of not showing it. His dimples deepened in a tight smile.

  “I assure you, it will be dealt with, but now is not the time,” he said, setting his tea down. “Taylor’s discipline is a personal matter between the two of us. It’s not a public spectacle for your entertainment, Marx.”

  “Perhaps not, Baas. But it is meant for your benefit.”

  Sebastian’s pale shamrock glare swung her way. “Put the goddamn box away now or you won’t sit for a month!”

  Taylor startled at the harsh bark aimed in her direction. He never yelled and the sound was enough to render her numb. Fumbling the box, she scrambled around Marx in a beeline for the half-bath off the kitchen. Her heart pounded so hard, she couldn’t hear over the deafening roar of blood in her ears. After tossing the tampons under the sink, she skidded to her knees and hugged the toilet. Resting her head on her forearms, she drew a shaky breath and prayed for her stomach to calm down.

  “Get up.”

  She jumped at the cold civility in Sebastian’s voice. Before she had a chance to respond, he pushed his way into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him with enough force to rattle her teeth. The blood drained from her face when he stepped closer. Shaking, she pressed closer to the wall in an attempt to flatten against it.

  “Please…” she choked.

  “Shh,” he warned, crouching down beside her. Worry clouded his eyes as he stroked a tender thumb over her brow. Tipping her face toward his, he kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what, remember that.”

  Before she could respond, he rocked to his feet and batted the soap dispenser off the sink. The decorative blown glass hit the wall mere inches beside her and shattered. Both noise and action wrung a startled cry from her lips as Sebastian jerked her to her feet without warning.

  “Are you trying to embarrass me, Taylor?” he asked, loud enough that Marx surely heard it. “Get out there, get the food on the table, and straighten your ass up!”

  She winced as he jerked the door open and sent her staggering into the kitchen on a shove. Marx nodded in approval as Sebastian stepped out behind her. She knew he was only trying to protect them both the best way he knew how, but it didn’t make the experience any less terrifying.

  Her heart threatened to burst when she scented the air. A faint burning smell was already wafting from the oven, and the director was surveying the contents in the skillet with a look of dissatisfaction. His broad features screwed into a tight grimace. Taylor’s eyes widened as he snatched the skillet off the burner and tossed the thing, contents and all, into the soapy water she’d used to rinse the prep dishes. Sebastian’s jaw corded—a sharp contrast to hers, which hung open in disbelief.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked in a choked whisper.

  She wished she hadn’t when both men pinned her with a glare capable of stripping paint.

  “Shut your mouth, Taylor. I don’t want to hear another word out of you tonight. Is that clear?” Sebastian asked.

  She wrung her hands with a mute nod, watching as he crossed the kitchen and jerked open the oven door. He snagged the mitt off the counter and thrust it in Marx’s direction.

  “The biscuits were burning, not everything else but here, while you’re at it, you might as well finish. Who the hell wants to eat?” he snapped.

  “That wasn’t food. It was slop. It’s what you get when you shack up with some worthless truck stop waitress. You were supposed to train the girl and uphold her to a certain set of standards, not fall into disrepair beside her. I suggest you get your damn priorities straight and for God’s sake teach her to be useful somewhere besides the bedroom.”

  Lowering her head, Taylor tried to ignore the sting of the big man’s words, but they cut deep. As much as she wanted to lash out at him and ask what gave him the right to be so judgmental and cruel, she knew it wouldn’t be wise. Not just for her sake, but for Sebastian’s as well. This wasn’t just any man. It was his boss, and being in charge of SKALS, he was quite possibly one of the most dangerous men in the world. Her pride wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Marx, sir. I’ll fix something else.”

  “No.”

  She glanced up when Sebastian uttered the single, soft word from across the kitchen.

  “No,” he repeated with a stern shake of his head. “Don’t you dare apologize, Taylor. You did the best you could with what you had to work with. I’m the one who sets the standards in this house, and if Marx has an issue with them, he can take them up with me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  The director’s mouth quirked. His mammoth shoulders jerked as he folded his arms across the broad expanse of his chest. The buttons on the front of his uniform tilted with the strain. “Is that a fact, Sebastian? You’re taking your whore’s side over mine?”

  Shutting the oven with one hand, he raked the other through his hair and gave a humorless laugh. “If that’s the way you choose to see it, who am I to argue?”

  “Who indeed,” Marx repeated. “I told you this little game of house was going to end.”

  Taylor took an uncertain step back as he whirled on her, one of his huge bear-sized paws extending in her direction.

  “Give me the ring.”

  She shook her head in denial. Cradling her hand against her chest, she took another step back. “No.”

  “It wasn’t an option, Miss McAvay. Give me the ring, or I will drag you out of here and cut the damn thing off, fin
ger and all.”

  Words failed her and a jolt of raw terror zapped her system. She had no doubt the man meant what he said, but her heart reacted on its own accord. Clenching her hands tight, she balled them under her chin. The big man’s body seemed to tighten and curl in on itself, and for one petrifying moment, she was sure he was going to launch and make good on his threats.

  The chilling click of a safety broke the silence. Her breath hitched as she caught sight of Sebastian’s gun. Marx’s spine snapped straight and he froze.

  “Take one more step toward her and I will blow your fucking head off. Believe me, after the week I’ve had, you do not want to give me a reason. Get away from her right now and get the hell out of my house,” Sebastian warned in a menacing growl.

  “Excuse me?” Marx asked. Seeming to regain some of his confidence and composure, he turned to confront the brushed chrome pistol with a raised brow.

  “You heard me. Get your keys, grab your coat and shoes, and get off my property before I have security escort you out in pieces.”

  The director’s broad shoulders jerked. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are talking to, but I would think very carefully if I were you. Proceed and I promise you, you will regret this decision.”

  Sebastian offered a cold smile that fell short of easing the savage gleam in his eyes. “What’s that you always say?” he asked with a questioning tilt of his head. “Maybe someday, Marx. But today is not that day. Now move.”

  The big bull of a man aimed an accusatory finger her way, but Taylor held her ground. Lifting her chin, she met the hatred in his eyes head on. One of his fists clenched and lifted, as if he meant to let it fly, but Sebastian stepped closer. Still trapped in the lethal sights of a Desert Eagle, Marx rethought the wisdom of his intentions. His jaw jutted with rage, and fury stamped his lined face as he stormed past her. Sebastian wasn’t taking any chances. Following in the wide berth of the commander’s shadow, he kept his pistol aimed.

  It wasn’t until she heard the front door slam that Taylor released the breath she’d been holding. Her legs shook as she fumbled for the support of the counter behind her. Even a backwards truck stop waitress like her could sense the magnitude of what had just happened. Sick, heavy dread blanketed her, its presence cold and smothering. Sliding down the cabinet facing, she drew her knees to her chest with a miserable swallow.

  This wasn’t good. This was bad. So bad. It was about as bad as things could get.

  A few moments later, Sebastian returned. He stood over her in silence as he relocked the safety and returned his gun it to its rightful place at his side. Without a word, he lowered onto the floor beside her. Taylor tensed and turned her face into his shoulder as he drew her into his arms.

  “It’s going to be okay, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “He gone. Rupert and the rest of the staff escorted him out.”

  “This is bad, Sebby. He hates me, and after what you just did, he’s going to want you dead.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Taylor. Keep your head straight and stay focused on us. Concentrate on taking care of yourself and our baby.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Don’t try. Just do. I know you don’t understand this, but part of him respects what I did. That’s the anger, the type of calculating killer SKALS wants to see. Marx just needs time to cool down. Everything will be okay.” He took her hand and absentmindedly stroked the ring on her finger. “Go ahead and order whatever sounds good to you. You know what I like. I have a phone call to make. When I’m done, we’ll talk. Okay?”

  “Seb?”

  “This is important, Taylor.”

  She watched as he sprung to his feet and retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, already heading toward the privacy of his office. Plowing her still shaky hands through her hair, she scrubbed her scalp and tried to pull herself back together. She tried not to think about what the consequences of tonight would be—for either of them—but it was hard. So damn hard. If there was one thing she’d learned about SKALS and the men who ran it so far, it was that every action had a very definite reaction.

  ~*~*~*~

  Sebastian paced the floor of his study, muttering in agitation beneath his breath. He’d tried Josh’s cell three times to no avail. His eyes darted to the decorative clock stationed above the mantel. It was almost six. His partner should have been home by now. He listened as the home phone hit its fourth ring, his hand tightening around his cell. The relief he felt when he heard the melodic notes of his sister’s voice was almost shattering.

  “No time for greetings,” he interrupted. “Where is Josh?”

  “He came home with a headache. He’s resting.”

  “Put him on the phone, Monique.”

  “Did you not just hear me?” she asked, her voice rising an octave in disbelief.

  “I heard you. I don’t have time to worry about his boo-boos. We have bigger problems. Give him one of your Midols and put him on the phone, now.”

  Perching on the edge of his desk, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he listened to the ensuing voices on the other end. Several more precious seconds ticked by before his partner’s smooth baritone sounded on the other end.

  “What’s going on, Baas?”

  “You need to lock things down. Marx is probably on his way over there, and he’s not happy.”

  Josh sucked in a sharp breath. “What the hell did you do now?” he asked, not bothering to mask his irritation.

  “The guy dumped my dinner in the sink and threatened Taylor. You tell me.”

  A long strand of curses followed on the other end of the phone. “You know what? You seriously need to get your head on straight. I’m not in this. If you pissed him off, that’s your problem, pal, not mine.”

  Annoyed, he sprung to his feet and tried to keep the venom out of his voice. “You keep telling yourself that, but that’s my sister you’re shacked up with. I don’t care what you have to do, but you keep him out of that house and away from her.”

  “This is exactly what I was talking about!” Josh yelled. “Why do you keep doing this? Why are you even putting me in this position? If you don’t care about yourself that’s one thing, but at least try to give a fuck about the rest of us.”

  “I do,” he stated quietly. “More than you know.” Deathly silence reigned. “Just keep her safe. One way or another, I will make this up to you. I promise.”

  “And just how in the hell are you going to do that?”

  “I will do whatever it takes to protect my family, Josh. You know that. Just promise me you will do the same.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Are we done?”

  “Goodnight, Josh.”

  Sebastian closed his eyes for a brief second as he disconnected the call. The stress and pressure lately was becoming too much. Reaching over, he poured himself a stiff drink, downed it with a grimace, and wandered back into the kitchen in search of Taylor. His eyes raked over the spacious area, including the great room upon finding it vacant. She wasn’t on either of the leather couches or the plush chair where she liked to curl up sometimes to read. A quick glance outside revealed an unoccupied deck as well. Frowning, he bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His heart hammered as he flung open the doors to the master suite. Still no sign of her. He crossed the bedroom and peered into the bathroom. Nothing. Raking a hand through his curls, he charged back out into the hall and called her name.

  He was just about to key in the coordinates on her necklace when movement below drew his attention. She’d popped the lid to the trash was dumping the last of the broken soap dispenser off the dust tray by the time he entered the kitchen. Taking it from her hands, he set it aside and steered her into the living room.

  He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple, drawing the sensual scent of warm vanilla and cashmere deep into his lungs in an attempt to calm himself down again. “Did you call something in?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I ordered a
Mediterranean pizza and some wings.”

  “That sounds good.”

  She shrugged and tucked her legs under her. Keeping her gaze averted, she picked at the hem of her dress. “He wants to hurt me, doesn’t he?” she asked.

  Sebastian let his head fall back to rest against the back of the couch. The muscles along his jaw twitched as he debated an answer. “He wants to hurt me, Taylor. You just happen to be an unfortunate byproduct of that agenda.”

  She folded her hands then wrung them in her lap. “I don’t know what to do here, Seb. What to say.”

  “I already told you what to do, baby,” he said, threading his fingers through hers. “As for what to say, just tell me you love me. Tell me you’ll be careful, but most importantly, tell me you’re going to stay.”

  “You know I will, Sebastian,” she assured him, closing her eyes.

  “I’m going to take care of this, Taylor. All of it. He’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let him destroy us. I promise.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. He held his breath, waiting, as the precious seconds ticked by.

  “It’s not us I’m worried about,” she finally admitted, her voice a strained whisper that barely met his ears. “It’s the rest of the world, Seb. I’m worried about what’s going to happen if Marx goes through with his plans and where that future will lead.”

  His chest rose and fell with his reluctant sigh. As selfish, cold, and uncaring as he could be, the burden of those things rested heavily on his shoulders as well. It was hard to make promises when the future was so bathed in uncertainty but, right now, words were all he had.

  “I’m not going to let that happen,” he assured her. “I will take care of it, Taylor. One way or another, Marx’s reign is coming to an end.”

  “How is that possible, Seb? If something happens to him, you are going to be the first person everyone looks at. They aren’t going to believe you did it to save them or your organization. They’re going to think you just wanted to take over and sit in his place.”

  “Believe me, sweetheart, that is the last place in this world I would want to be.”