The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

  “Then why was she killed?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I really don’t know.”

  “If I find out—”

  The man really had taken the model’s death personally. Or maybe it was his being framed for the murder that still rankled.

  “Look, Franco, let’s take this one step at a time. You talk to Dominique. We both protect Bran. Then we find out who killed Sasha. A deal?”

  “A deal.” Franco raised his chin—a warrior rooster. “I shall go find Dominique now.”

  Excellent. I smiled.

  But Franco wasn’t finished. “About Bran,” he said.

  Should have figured it was too easy.

  “What about him?” My words sounded only slightly strained.

  “He’s hurting. I can see it.” I pushed down the bile churning through my stomach as Franco continued. “For what it’s worth, I believe he truly cares for you.”

  Great, more acid on the open wound.

  “Thank you, Franco.” I offered a weaker smile. “I appreciate that.” Like vinegar in a knife cut.

  “Good. It’s important that you know.”

  “Dominique?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “I go now.”

  I didn’t release my breath until he disappeared from view.

  Phase one complete. On to Phase two.

  CHAPTER 51

  “The toss away phone is being used near you,” Kelly said.

  The tour residence was nearly deserted, which was great timing. Everyone had headed to the Kennedy Center, prepping for the events in a few hours.

  “You there Alex?” Kelly asked, still on the phone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Problem?”

  “No. Just a feeling.” The worms in my gullet kind of feeling when something wasn’t going right. I hadn’t heard from Franco yet, but it made sense the little man had spoken to Dominique. The use of the throw away phones indicated that much. So what was happening and where?

  Dominique most likely was somewhere in the rambling house. I glanced out the nearest window. The driveway area was empty except for a pair of security guards hired to patrol the grounds. Bran’s way of making everyone feel safer.

  Protector warlock.

  Or Dominique’s way to keeping control of this location. Which was it?

  Since most of the tour needed to catch a taxi to get into town, the lack of vehicles didn’t reveal a lot. But the quiet in the house did. I decided I’d do a quick look around. What could it hurt?

  Then I heard the gunshot.

  CHAPTER 52

  At least it sounded like a muffled gunshot from one of the upper rooms. Backfire? Or was it nerves?

  No one was moving or reacting. Not that there were a lot of bodies around the place.

  I tried to cast a quick sensing spell to find out who was still in the house, but nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. I might not be a great witch, but even a novice could do a sensing spell so what was up?

  I left the lower floor room for a quick walk about. It took only a few seconds for me to come upon two security guards at the bottom of the stairway, rough looking brutes who halted me before I showed them my badge as a tour member. My ring heated, alerting me to the fact they weren’t human. Weres was my guess, but I didn’t have a clue what kind. Since they weren’t moving, and no other shots sounded, maybe I was making up things?

  So what was going on?

  “Hey, guys, hear anything out of the ordinary?” I asked the guards.

  Glances zipped between them as scowls increased. That was the one thing you could count on with Weres, they all had anger management issues. Any perceived slight was an excuse to get pissed off or go into battle.

  One mumbled. “No one’s here. No noise.”

  Try again. I smiled, hoping it looked like a smile and not a grimace. Obviously these guys had been hired by Dragon Lady which is why they were lying. I glanced again at the stairway. Whatever I’d heard had been upstairs, so that’s where I needed to go.

  “Then it’ll be okay to run upstairs?” Surprised how casual I could sound, but then I’d been raised around shifters. They made Weres seem like pussy cats.

  “Why?” One guard growled, another clue he was hiding something.

  “I left my hairdresser’s tote in one of the upper rooms.”

  “I don’t know if—”

  “I’ll be needing it later.” I deepened my smile—the move worked for the models all the time.

  One brute frowned at the other. Obviously quick thinking wasn’t high on their employment requirements. Or that feminine smile thing really worked. Go figure.

  “Make it fast,” the other said.

  “No problem.” It was the truth. Earlier I’d made sure my silver valise had been brought into the house with the personal luggage, meaning it should be in one of the upper private rooms. One of which Dominique might be in, too, if she was here.

  I headed up to the second floor, aware two sets of eyes watched my every move until I disappeared down the upstairs hallway. Weres didn’t depend only on visual ability; they also were masters of scent. But around a corner and in a closed room there should be nothing to alert them that I wasn’t where I should be.

  A quick glance at the rooms indicated they were all empty. What now? Dominique’s, Bran’s, and the largest of the guest rooms were on the third floor.

  Did I have time to keep hunting before the guards got restless? Didn’t matter. There had been a sound above and to the rear of the house.

  A servant’s set of stairs at the end of one hallway ended the debate. A quick scout around and I’d have my answer.

  I listened for footsteps as I climbed to the higher level—the goons moving around, or a hint that Dominique might be around, but so far the house had been eerily quiet.

  With one foot into the third floor hallway I heard a voice. A muttered oath. A man’s voice. Then a hard thump, followed by silence.

  The noises came from behind a closed door, halfway down the shadowed hall.

  Two options. Assume I could handle it, whatever it was, or sneak into one of the empty rooms, call for my team as backup and wait. But the team was at the Watergate looking at security issues and couldn’t be here for at least forty minutes.

  But if someone was in trouble, waiting wasn’t an option. Besides, I was a Noziak. I’d grown up learning how to take care of myself, and that was before the agency training. Pitted against shifters since birth meant I wasn’t afraid of much, but then my brothers had usually pulled their punches. Unless I got them angry and then I learned to duck and run. On the other hand, I wasn’t stupid.

  I decided to give a heads up to the team, in case I was making a big mistake; at least they’d know where to look for my body. Punching in a quick text message to Kelly, who’d be monitoring her phone, I turned off and pocketed my cell, swallowed deeply and headed down the hall as quietly as possible.

  A different voice reached me. A woman’s voice this time. Dominique.

  Crap, that couldn’t be good.

  I paused, sucking in my breath, hearing the thrum of my heart beating faster.

  “Don’t do anything foolish,” Dominique said, as a door squeaked open. “You’ll live if you don’t act stupidly.”

  I pressed against the nearest door jam, reaching for the door handle and turning just as high heels clicked two rooms over.

  Nipping into the empty room I waited. The tat-a-tat echo of heels receded.

  Dominique had left.

  Sticking my head out to make sure, I scurried to the closed door.

  It wasn’t locked.

  A good sign or? I pressed the door open slowly; more guards could be on the other side.

  But they weren’t. Someone else was.

  “Bran?” He lay crumpled on the floor, motionless.

  A quick glance registered two impressions. No guards and Franco tied to a chair, blood streaming down his right shoulder.

  “Damn.” I rushed to Bran fir
st, feeling a pulse along his neck. Alive. Thank the Spirits. I whirled toward Franco whose eyes were rolling back in his head.

  “What happened?” I demanded, keeping my voice low as I reached his chair. “Who-”

  “Dom.” It wasn’t Franco answering, but Bran, shaking his head and rolling to his side. “She’s coming back.”

  I was scouting for something to stop Franco’s bleeding. I grabbed a sheet from a nearby bed, using my teeth to rip it, keeping one eye on Bran lurching groggily to his feet.

  Franco groaned as I applied a wad of cloth to his shoulder and pressed hard.

  “Help me,” I directed Bran. “We’ve got to get this stopped. Can you heal him?”

  Bran shook his head, which looked like it hurt like all get out. “Can’t,” he mumbled.

  “Why not? You helped me.” Did I have to spell it out to him—yacht, foredeck, his bringing me back from the dead, which is what Franco could be if we didn’t get help.

  “I placed an anti-magic ward around the house. No magic can be used inside or out.”

  No wonder my casting spell hadn’t worked. My hands actually shook I was so angry. “Why’d you do a stupid thing like—”

  “He did it for me, my dear,” Dominique’s voice slapped against me like a wet towel on bare skin.

  I kept my fingers pressed against the bleeding wound but shifted my gaze.

  Yup, there was Dominique, looking very un-Dominique-like.

  CHAPTER 53

  So this was what a Grimple looked like; three-headed, two heads looking very reptilian while the third head looked like Dominique’s human head only on a stick, a long, sinuous neck that made watching her bobbing heads hard. Her body looked like a cross between a crocodile and a boar. The room reeked of cinnamon and sandalwood as her red-rimmed eyes glared.

  Not a good look for her at all.

  The only human looking part of her besides that talking head was her left hand, very regal, cool, collected, and deadly with her fingers wrapped around a snub-nosed revolver. A revolver pointed right at me.

  Funny, I figured the Dragon Lady for a more elegant weapon. Or a more elegant “otherness.” Crap, if I looked like her in my natural state I’d be psycho, too. Which was just my mind babbling as I tried to figure out what to do.

  “Dom.” Bran stood now, looking as stable as a wheat stalk in a wind storm. “Is that you?”

  Okay, good news. Bran wasn’t used to seeing his cousin in her Grimple form, which meant he was probably unaware of how dangerous she really was.

  “Poor Bran,” Dominique cooed. “Having a really bad day.”

  Ouch. The woman did vicious very well.

  I ignored Dominique; not necessarily a wise move, but a necessary one if I was going to get Franco’s wound stabilized.

  “Bran, I need your help.” His moving to my side took care of two issues, creating distance between him and Dominique and helping me save Franco’s life. If I could. “Tie this cloth tight while I keep the pressure on.”

  “Don’t bother, he’ll be dead before you can get help,” Dominique said from the doorway, her form morphing back into her human-like persona, which was easier on the eyes, but no less deadly. Especially with the smug smirk to her lips. She waved in one of the goons from the stairwell. He was half-changed, a natural reaction to the fear or fight response. I swore I could see long fangs erupting from his mouth.

  What was he? A warthog Were?

  And why could these guys shift but magic not be employed?

  “I’m impressed, hairdresser,” Dominique purred, “You don’t seem surprised.”

  Would keeping her engaged buy me some time to create a survival plan? Or cause her to lash out—kill simply for the sake of killing? Why didn’t we have more information on Grimples?

  “Elmer, search her for a weapon,” Dominique ordered as if she were ordering take out. “Take any phones or electronics.”

  Elmer? Who called a thug Elmer? Man must have compensation issues. A warthog Were named Elmer.

  He also had hands that belonged on a blacksmith. His pat down was brief but thorough, and rough, especially since I kept my own hands tight against Franco’s shoulder.

  In seconds my cell phone was pocketed, as well as my ring and my ankle anathema. What damage did they think I could do with a ring? Plenty, with the way I was feeling right then.

  Bran stepped closer to me, replacing my hands with his; a good idea as he could apply pressure over a broader area. Up close I could see the bruise darkening his temple. He’d been hit with a vengeance.

  “You won’t get away with this,” I said as I slid behind Franco, pulling my makeshift tourniquet tight.

  “Why? Because you’re IRS?” The woman laughed, a sound echoing through the empty mansion. “Don’t be so naive. By the time anyone finds you, I’ll be long gone, enjoying the fruits of my labors.”

  “You mean the synthetic drug?”

  That little tidbit deflated the other woman’s sails and for a second I thought she was going to morph again as her eyes reddened and her face elongated. I swore I could hear her hiss as she demanded, “What do you know about the drug?” The gun quivered in the manicured hand.

  “I know everything.”

  “What drug?” Bran cast glances between his cousin and me, as if he didn’t know who was scarier. I wanted to tell him, welcome to my world, but I needed all my focus to keep Franco alive and Dominique engaged.

  “The drug that enabled your dear cousin here to stage the thefts.” I answered his question even as I hated slamming Bran with the news this way, but then again, I wasn’t the one setting the scene. “A drug that forced unsuspecting victims to act against their will.”

  I turned to Dominique, going for broke. “Weren’t you powerful enough as you are? Or are you compensating for being such a butt ugly creature?”

  “My, my, my, what a busy little IRS agent you’ve been, if that’s what you really are.” She wasn’t acting the way I expected, but maybe Grimples thrived on confrontation. “And here I thought only our Franco was a government mole.”

  Franco?

  I glanced at Bran, but it was Dominique who answered my unspoken question. “Oh, how droll. Secrets between lovers. You mean Bran didn’t share the scintillating fact that Franco here is a British agent?”

  I looked Bran in the eye as he said, “MI-6.”

  The prick was British Intelligence? No way. No freaking way.

  I grappled with the news. Bran knew. Two undercover agents. Two government investigations. No wonder this whole mission had been like waltzing through landmines. And I’ll-protect-you-Bran knew all along.

  Served me right for trusting a warlock.

  I glanced at Dominique, my brain scrambling, my words lethally cold. “You know what this means?”

  “That it’ll bring me immense pleasure to silence you both?”

  “No. That not one, but two governments will be on your tail if anything happens to either of us. And at least one of those agencies will know to look for you as human and Grimple.”

  “And that’s supposed to worry me?” The woman smiled her snake-smile. “Humans can be so droll. And foolish. Even human witches who get in way over their heads.”

  She knew? Then I caught where her gaze landed. On Bran.

  Dominique laughed, a short barking sound etched by acid. “You really did not think my cousin could hide anything from me, now did you?”

  I refused to look at Bran, refused to feel the disappointment welling up deep inside. All the time he’d been sharing with his cousin what I shared with him. Could I have been a bigger fool?”

  That laugh came again. “Oh, don’t be too hard on him, darling; he had little choice. Did you Bran?”

  What the—?

  “Enough, Dominique. You’ve won.” Bran kept his hands pressed against Franco’s shoulder but turned his head to pin his cousin with a look so lethal I was surprised it didn’t singe her. “You’ve destroyed my world. Used me. Used my powers. Now leave.
”

  Dominique shrugged.

  “No, wait!” I shouted, pushing aside Bran’s words to deal with later. Right now I needed some answers.

  “You wish to beg for your life, puny witch?”

  Maybe it was a good thing Bran had been forced to ward the house against magic because right then I would have ignored the promise to my father and pulverized the bitch.

  But if she was gone, so was the chance to find Van.

  I straightened. “Tell me about Vaverek,” I demanded, catching Bran’s stilling beside me. So he did know something and had kept that hidden from me, too. Had there been anything honest between us?

  “So you know about Vaverek,” Dominique purred, the low rumble of a tiger ready to pounce.

  Time to go for broke. “Yes. And the Seekers, too.”

  Her eyes widened, just a fraction, but enough for me to notice. “If you know about them then you know you are doomed.”

  And that meant what?

  As if reading my thoughts she continued. “All humans are doomed.” Her smiled ratcheted up in a gloating, smug way.

  “Does Vaverek have my brother?” I asked, holding my breath, knowing I was pushing things but it wasn’t like I had a lot to lose.

  “You mean your shifter brother?” she said, all deadly sweet.

  And my heart plummeted. All this time she’d known. Here I’d been pussy footing around playing agent for the IR team. I’d failed my brother.

  “You promised you would not hurt him,” Bran interjected, keeping his gaze averted, stomping on what was left of my emotions. He’d lied to me, even as he threw it in my face that I was using him.

  I sucked at being an agent. At being a witch. At being a sister.

  “I said what you needed to hear, dear cousin,” Dominique’s tone was dry and droll. “If I hadn’t promised, would you have created the non-magic zone around the house?”

  At Bran’s dark look, she added, “No, I didn’t think so. Needs must, darling.” She paused and then continued. “Without the non-magic zone your little witch here might have been a problem, but as is, she’s as powerless as you.”