by Arran,Olivia
I wanted to push for answers, with anyone else I would have, but this was Frankie. I couldn’t do it. “Are they human?”
She swung back around to face me, eyes wide and blinking. “Uh, I think so. Then again, I didn’t know you weren’t, until you told me.”
“Where are they based?”
Again with the blinking. “Two blocks from here. Probably where you met Dez.”
“No. Their real base.”
She gave me a look that hinted I was loosing my damn mind. “Abel, it’s there. Everything. They have a basement that runs under the street.” Her eyes took on that hazy look that a person gets when they’re visualizing something that’s not there. “I remember there’s a maze of tunnels down there, but I haven’t seen it in years. Apart from when I visit the hole, of course. But that’s through a different elevator. The one you want is—”
“The hole?”
She snapped back to the present, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
The fear was back in her eyes, with a glazed look I recognized from my time on the force. Classic PTSD.
She cut off any questions, firing off her own, “What about you? You know all about me and I know nothing about your life. How did you get into our line of work? Where do you live? Do you work alone?”
The natural urge to evade and lie surged, but I pushed it back. This was Frankie, instinct told me I could trust her. “I’m a part of a team but I usually take the solo jobs.” It was still hard to be so open, to talk about something I’d usually kill to keep secret. “There’s five of us. Cole; he’s our head guy and the one who recruited me. Vin is British, and that’s about all I know. Oh, and he’s useful when it comes to hand-to-hand. Angel, he’s the good looking asshole of the group. And that leaves Greg, our IT guru, and Dez’s counterpart. Though he’s an operative too.”
She had leaned forward while I was speaking, the darkness in her eyes lifting. “So, now I know it’s not just me you’re grumpy with. You hardly know the guys on your team! You’re all werewolves, right?”
“Wolf shifters,” I corrected automatically, but it didn’t really make a difference what you called us. The human lore surrounding werewolves kind of summed us up; men who could turn into wolves. Though we didn’t have the weaknesses so often assigned to the make-believe werewolves, as silver didn’t do a damn thing but hurt as much as iron when it was shoved inside you.
“Why did you join the team?”
Ah, the question I’d hope she wouldn’t ask. “Because I’m a mean son-of-a-bitch?”
Her lips twitched, eventually spreading into a full smile. “As your mother was most likely a were … shifter, I’ll accept that statement as true, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
No matter what happened, she still found a way to smile.… But I couldn’t go there. “I had the skill set they needed and I needed a change of pace.”
Her grin faltered, then faded.
I’m a dick. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the whole truth, didn’t want the way she looked at me to change. “I need to get inside, have a look around.”
The swerve in conversation took her a moment. She shook her head violently. “No chance. Impossible. They’re locked up tighter than a nun’s—”
“What about their cover story? The children’s charity.”
“That’s their cover story?”
It was my turn to look surprised. “You didn’t know?”
“Why would I? I avoid the place if I can help it, and I don’t go around naming them as my employer on my resume.”
“They are registered as a children’s charity for legal and tax purposes, I presume they must have a department for dealing with inquiries from the general public.”
I fished my phone out and dialed the number Greg had provided.
Two minutes later, I ended the call, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips. “I’m in, meeting with a Ms. Carina Smith at 2:00 p.m. tomorrow.”
Chapter Seventeen
Frankie
Nothing I could say would talk him out of it. I’d tried. He was a stubborn fool who was going to get himself killed.
I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets, shuffling behind him with the enthusiasm of a kid being dragged to the dentist. I mean, why should I care? The guy couldn’t even answer a straightforward question about his life. He obviously didn’t want to share anything deep and personal with me.
Like you’re being completely honest with him?
I ignored my inner voice, hating the fact that she sounded so smug and full of herself. So what if I had hedged the truth. He didn’t need to know about my childhood.
“Are you going to pout and sulk all day?” He didn’t even have the decency to sound exasperated, just mildly amused. Which was weird, even for him. He’s always been such a grump, all moody with a badass attitude. Now though, he seemed almost … happy?
“Depends,” I eventually muttered, not wanting to give in too easy, but it was hard to stay mad at someone who with one damn look, melted my insides to sticky goo.
He shortened his stride, dropping back so we were ambling along the street like an old married couple.
I snorted. As if.
“Something funny?”
I wiped the smile off my face, forcing my lips back into the scowl I’d been busy perfecting. “Nope.”
“Frankie …”
My hands flew up in the air as I rolled my eyes. “All right! Christ, can’t a girl get a good sulk in now and again?”
At his pointed look, I swore under my breath. “Okay, fine. Where are we going?” I was thinking surveillance, though it wouldn’t do us much good. Maybe research? But where?
“To a carnival.”
I missed a step. “What?”
“A carnival. There’s one visiting the next town along.” His face was carefully neutral as he continued to stroll down the street without a care in the world, expecting me to catch up.
A skip and a jump and we were side by side again. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
Why not? “Uh, you don’t seem like the kind of guy who makes a habit of eating cotton candy and riding the Ferris Wheel.”
“You said it yourself, you don’t know me that well.”
Huh.
He continued, “I thought it might be fun.”
“I’ve never been to a carnival,” I admitted.
His face broke into a sheepish smile. “Good. Neither have I.”
Licking the tips of my fingers, I pinched off another blob of gooey, pink goodness, popping it into my mouth with relish.
“My teeth hurt watching you eat that stuff.” Abel pulled a pained face, but his eyes glowed with heat as they followed the swirl of my tongue around my finger.
“Try some.” Not giving him much of a choice, I stuffed a bit in his mouth.
Teeth clamped down on my finger, holding gently, as he licked every last bit of sugar clean.
People hustled around us, families herding screaming children, high on sugar and excitement, couples holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes as they wandered through the maze of stalls and attractions designed to entice and capture the imagination.
We stood like an island, strong against the steady stream of people ebbing and flowing around us.
My finger popped free.
“The Ferris Wheel?” His voice was a husky growl. He wasn’t unaffected.
Hugging the realization to myself, I nodded. We’d thrown balls at coconuts, shot down targets, ridden the bumper cars, and I was now the proud owner of two fuzzy bears; one pink and one lime green, and a big duck. In orange, of course.
So far, the ghost ride had been my favorite, the cart minuscule and atmosphere conducive to snuggling.
We made our way over to the big wheel towering over the rest of the park, it’s baskets lumbering in a slow circle reaching up to the stars. Dusk had arrived, the darkness a soft hue before real night fell. Lights sparkled and flashed all arou
nd us, music blaring from each attraction in a fight for dominance over their neighbor. It was a different world, a step away from the reality of life and its ups and downs.
People moved out of our way, their eyes widening at the sight of Abel striding toward them; his shoulders broad, biceps bulging, and gorgeous face scowling at the looks being thrown his way.
“They respect you,” I murmured, pride rushing through me not for the first time that day. People saw him and took notice, and not because they wanted a taste of his yummy goodness—I’d have to break a few noses if that were the case—but because he had a presence, something about him that set him apart from the mundane.
“They’re scared of me,” he grunted out.
It had taken a while, but he had finally relaxed. When we first arrived he’d been wound tighter than.… My mind blanked, overwhelmed with stimulation. Whatever—he’d been wound tight. “They’re not scared.”
“They should be.”
At the mortified look on his face, I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “What they don’t know, won’t kill them,” I forced out on a splutter, grabbing his arm for support. It wasn’t even that funny, but the look on his face had been priceless. Like the idea of people not being scared of him was the worst thing that could happen.
The laughter died on my lips as the thought of what was happening tomorrow sobered me up in an instant. What could happen.
He grabbed my hand, tugging me forward. “No.”
“No?”
His hands settled on my hips. “We’re not thinking about that.”
I looked up at him, the pleasure of having to tilt my head a fraction to meet his eyes, still new and thrilling. “We’re not?”
“No. We’re having fun. On the Ferris wheel.” His kiss took me by surprise, his hand sliding through my hair and anchoring my lips to his. He tasted of cold beer and ketchup, cotton candy and man. Then he was dragging me onto the Ferris wheel, his arm around my shoulders and thigh pressed firm against mine.
“Tonight, it’s all about learning to have fun,” he murmured.
Leaning against his shoulder, I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye. The lights faded, the sky rising up to greet us. Wind teased at my hair. I snuggled closer. “I’m down with that.”
He didn’t walk me to my door, but he watched from the shadows. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked through my apartment, flicking the switch and flooding the space with light. The blinds were open, the street framed in the display.
I was on display.
It was too dangerous for him to come here again. We agreed, but he would keep watch.
I hope he’s watching now.
I pulled my top off over my head, letting it drop to the floor. Next came my jeans, peeled off over my hips in a shimmy. My reflection wore a coral pink bra and panties, her hair fluffed and eyes wide.
Running a finger under my strap, I eased it down off one shoulder.
I blew a kiss at the window, flashing what I hoped was an appropriately wicked grin, and left the room.
Sweet dreams …
Bedtime for me.
Chapter Eighteen
Abel
After a night of standing watch—all the while fighting the urge to storm up to Frankie’s apartment, break down the door, and show her exactly how she should remove her clothes—I went back to my house in the now daylight and grabbed a couple of hours shut eye.
Now, it was time to get down to business.
The door slid open, admitting me entry.
“Can I help you?” The woman behind the fancy white desk asked, a perfectly drawn eyebrow rising up toward her hairline. To my left, the security guard stiffened, his hand twitching where it rested on his belt.
Resisting the urge to stiffen myself, I strolled across the immaculate gray tiles, pasting a charming smile on my face. Or, at least, I hoped it was charming. I’d even trimmed my stubble down to designer neatness for this meeting. I had considered shaving it off, but had decided the scar would probably undo any brownie points I might get.
Leaning against the reception desk, I shot out my wrist and leisurely glanced at my watch. “I have a meeting with Ms. Carina Smith.”
The woman relaxed, her long nails tapping away at the keyboard. Curving red glossy lips into a smile, she replied, “Thank you, Sir. Could I take your name?”
“Mr. Abelstein.”
“Pease take a seat. Ms. Smith will be with you shortly.” She indicated a group of uncomfortable looking chairs over to my right. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, mineral water?”
“No. I’m fine, thank you …” I let the words hang in the air, my smile widening as she flushed under my gaze.
“Tina,” she murmured, her back straightening and shoulders rolling back as she wriggled in her chair.
“Thank you, Tina.” I added a wink for good measure, then made my way over to the small seating area. Bypassing the chairs, I stopped just in front of the large glass window, letting my eyes wander over the pedestrians making their single minded way to wherever it was they were headed.
Inhaling, I sifted through the smell of the building, filtering out Tina’s astringent perfume and the scent of oil from the security guard’s gun. The air conditioning gave the air a stale smell, lightly perfumed with floral air freshener, bringing with it the scent of humans. And only humans. There were no shifters here.
“Mr. Abelstein?”
I turned at the sound of my assumed name. A woman clicked her way across the foyer, her hips swinging with confidence that came from many hours at the gym, a rigid diet, and enough money to buy whatever man she wanted.
I mentally shrugged. Whatever worked for her.
She looked to be in her thirties, a good dye job covering any gray that might be creeping in. Her hair was swept back and up in a severe style that accentuated her dark blue eyes.
“Ms. Smith?” I accepted her hand, shoving a glimmer of admiration into my eyes.
“We’re so pleased you could join us today. The charity is thrilled you are considering our cause for your donation …” her voice trailed off, her smile warming as she met mine.
I shrugged, holding her hand a little longer than necessary. “It’s a good cause, and I like kids.”
Her eyes widened a fraction, smile lines creeping in at the edges.
Hmmm, a little older than I first thought. I was betting Botox.
“If you’d like to follow me, we can discuss any questions you may have.”
Matching her stride, I straightened my suit jacket, rolling back my shoulders with the air of someone who always got what they wanted. “A tour would be nice.”
She frowned, the gesture practiced and smooth. “That might not be possible today.”
My turn to frown. “Why not?”
She glanced around, then leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “We’re having some necessary work done to the building, some areas were deemed unsafe during the last building inspection. Structural issues, I’m not quite sure, but I’m sure you understand. I couldn’t possibly put a future investor in a potentially unsafe situation.” She swiped a keycard and we passed through a set of doors and into a long corridor.
“What about the children?”
She gave me a suitably confused look. “The children?”
“Where are they housed?”
“Oh! They’re not here. The charity is purely a facilitator.” She chuckled at my raised eyebrows, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. “We raise the money and supervise how it is spent, ensuring the funds trickle down to those that need it the most.”
“So, you don’t have children here in the building?” We passed through another set of doors accessed with the same keycard and arrived outside what looked to be a suite of offices.
“Certainly not! This isn’t a place for children.”
I leaned against the wall, crowding her a touch. “What’s on the other floors then? This seems like an awfully big building for administration wo
rk.”
She tilted her head, unwittingly exposing her neck to me. A sign of submission. “We rent the third and fourth floors out.”
“And the second floor?”
“Administration and fund raising. I’m sure you’d like to see some of our brochures, and then if you have any questions …?” She pushed open a door and ushered me into a large, luxurious office space, a subtle signal that my present line of inquiry was now closed.
She rounded a desk, pulling out a drawer and rooting inside, leaning far enough over to afford me a deliberate glimpse of cleavage.
That’s if I were interested. Everything about this woman turned me off, from her unnaturally thin body to her false polished air, I couldn’t imagine her kicking back at a carnival and scarfing down a huge wad of cotton candy.
Nor could I see her wielding a pair of knives like they were long lost friends. No, if anything, she would be the type to carry a gun. Small and compact, perfect for slipping inside a purse, and God forbid if she ever had to actually fire it.
I accepted the brochures with a smile, letting my fingers brush against hers. It was never a bad idea to have more than one play on the cards, and Ms. Smith might come in handy.
She fluttered her eyelashes, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Remind me, Mr. Abelstein, how much were you looking to invest?”
I plucked a number out of the air. “Around two.”
She rounded the desk and it took everything in me to stand my ground and not growl. “Million?”
A smirk played across my lips. “Of course. It makes financial sense with regard to tax.”
“Very smart,” she purred, and I could almost see her licking her lips and readying herself to pounce.
I checked my watch. Time to go. “Unfortunately I have to be going, I have another meeting across town that I cannot miss. Meeting you has been … enlightening.”
She startled, obviously not used to having her prey escape capture. But then she smiled. “Of course, let me escort you out. If you have any more questions … well, you know where to find me.” She brushed against me, looking up at me from under thick, dark lashes.
