by Olivia Arran
Yep, I felt that one. I schooled my face into a bored expression. “Vin can choose whoever he likes.” And he chose me! Take that, skinny pants!
“And I can’t for the life of me understand why he chose you! Your money, maybe? Or that he feels bad for what happened to poor Sid and he’s trying to make up for it?” She was watching my face, waiting for a sign of weakness.
“Or maybe he wants a real woman? Someone who doesn’t simper and giggle and drinks all her meals?”
Anger flashed in the other woman’s eyes, and then they narrowed as a small smirk tugged at her lips. “As soon as he gets you fat and pregnant he’ll lose interest and look elsewhere. These matings aren’t real, you know? Don’t think for one second he’ll stay faithful to you…” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my. You did think that! Isn’t that precious!” She hopped off the counter, her peal of laughter echoing in the small room and following her out of the door. A split second later, Synthia and Annabel joined in, vindictive grins on their faces as they followed their leader out into the club.
I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to see myself through their eyes. I wasn’t as well groomed, or as beautiful; my eyes were a little too big, my short hair emphasizing rather than detracting from them, and my cheeks were rounded, though I liked to call it healthy. I was happy with the way I looked. The only truth I saw looking at myself through their eyes was that I wasn’t a shifter.
But I bet I could still kick Tamara’s ass. Mirror me grinned, the spark returning to her eyes and wiping away the sorrow. It was just a shame that he’d only chosen me because he had to choose someone. Tamara’s words rang in my ears, taunting me. Nope, he wouldn’t cheat on me…and definitely not with her. I’d serve him his balls for breakfast if he did, and then pack his suitcase. Or burn his clothes. Or both.
Planning my non-existent revenge, I exited the restroom, the bounce back in my step. I was wasting my time here. These guys weren’t going to talk to me, let alone spill their secrets.
“Hey, where are you going?” A hand grabbed my arm, and the next thing I knew I was smushed against a hard chest and struggling to breathe.
“What are you doing?” I shoved back, twisting my arm free.
“Oh, come on, dance with me,” Jeremy shouted over the music, his hands snaking around my waist.
I considered my options. “Okay. But keep your hands to yourself.” I deftly removed his hands from where they were smoothing down my sides.
The song that was playing was an old favorite, one that I could never remember the title of but knew every word. What started out as a slow sway quickly turned into a shimmy, then my hands were dancing in the air.
“You’re really good,” Jeremy said, admiration in his eyes.
“Thank you!” I shouted back. This wasn’t any good. How was I meant to question him if every word had to be screamed at the top of my lungs?
“So, I’ve been thinking…” His voice trailed off as he attempted a complicated move, one that made him look like a duck swimming backward. “…Just because Vincent picked you out, it doesn’t mean you have to accept his offer.”
Jiggling to the beat, I laughed out loud. “Like I’ve got so many offers to choose from,” I replied flippantly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out and just danced! It was so freeing, though it was a shame about the company. Now, if Vin had been here I might have treated him to that little grind routine I hadn’t attempted since high school…
“You’ve got other offers.”
His words had my step faltering and I nearly tripped over my own feet.
“I think you’re really hot, Grace. And sexy. I’d consider myself a lucky man if you were my mate.”
Oh, shit. “Uh, thanks?”
“Just think about it.”
Dumbfounded, I nodded. “Say, whatever happened to that woman I saw you hanging around with a couple of weeks ago? Elle, I think her name was?” Okay. Not smooth at all, but hopefully he’d had enough to drink to not get whiplash from the change in topic.
He blinked at me for a couple of seconds, the corners of his mouth drooping.
Probably not the response he’d expected when he asked a girl to mate him.
I soldiered on. “Blonde hair, green eyes, about my height?”
He slowly shook his head from side to side. “There was a blonde woman a couple of weeks back but her eyes were blue. And I don’t think her name was Elle. Began with a J, I think. And she was a lot taller than you. Is that who you’re thinking about?” He seemed eager to please, like a puppy wanting praise.
And all I wanted to do was shake him. Or strangle him. “No. Blonde hair, green eyes, my height.”
“Nope.”
Now either he was a really good actor or he really didn’t remember her.
I tried again, giving up on subtlety. Maybe I’d underestimated how drunk he actually was. “What about a guy. I saw him with you guys last week. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, exotic-looking. I think he’s called Luis.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember Luis. I was talking about him the other day actually.” Big puppy dog eyes again.
I nearly patted him on the head. “When did you last see him?”
He frowned in concentration, coming to a standstill in the middle of the writhing dance floor. “Last week…I think. At this club. The girls really liked him, thought he was hot. You could say they were disappointed when they found out they’re not his type.” The heavy emphasis on the last word was accompanied with a derogatory gesture that made me want to poke his eyes out. Or knee him in the balls. Seeing the look of disgust on my face, he backtracked. “He seemed an all right bloke. Not from around here; he must have gone home.”
My face fell. For a second I’d thought I was finally getting somewhere. “Do you know where he was staying?” According to my contact in America, Luis hadn’t even checked into his hotel.
“Nope. Aw, come on, forget him. Dance with me.”
His meaty hand landed on my ass and squeezed tight.
I didn’t think, just reacted, my hand locking onto his wrist and twisting.
Laid flat out on the floor, he gazed up at me. “I think I’m in love.”
“And I know you’re an asshole,” I spat back. “What gives you the right to touch me like that?”
“I thought you liked me!”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t?” He looked bewildered as he stood up. “But I was told—”
I snapped to attention. “By whom?”
“Synthia. She said you were hot for me, that you didn’t really fancy Vincent. Look, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have grabbed you otherwise.” He ran his hand over his head, a sheepish expression on his face. He looked stone-cold sober now. Funny, it was surprising what being unmanned in public could do to a guy.
“Synthia was lying.”
“I figured that from your reaction. Look, I really am sorry. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”
I shook my head, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm me. “No. I’m just going to go home.”
He nodded and I turned away.
“Grace?”
“What?” I called over my shoulder.
“Synthia lied to me.”
I didn’t answer; I already knew that.
“And she’s going to be my mate. That’s why I wanted to believe her.”
This time I winced, but I kept on walking. I had enough of my own stuff to worry about.
Chapter Seventeen
Vin
After a night of tossing and turning, the burning question of what had Grace so upset finally dragged me out of bed. I’d just stepped out of the shower when my cell blared from the other side of the room. Throwing myself across the bed, I dragged it out of my pocket.
“Hello?”
“Vincent, sweetheart, I hope I didn’t wake you?” Tamara’s voice virtually purred down the line.
Dragging my jeans on with one hand, I braced the phone under my chin so I could pull on my boots. “No, I was up.” What I
really wanted to say was: why are you calling and how the hell did you get this number? But I didn’t. Score one for politeness.
“I didn’t see you at the club last night. Pity.”
“I was busy.” I wrangled a clean T-shirt over my head, managing to drop the phone in the process.
“…missed Grace…”
I snatched the phone back up. “What about Grace?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? She was there last night—”
“At the club?”
“Of course, silly! Dancing and having a really good time.”
I swallowed hard. So what if she went out without me? She’s a grown woman, free to do whatever the hell she wants. “Tamara, why are you telling me this?”
“I thought you’d like to know that Grace spent a lot of her time dancing with Jeremy.”
“And? There’s no crime in—”
“Dancing very close,” she murmured, cutting me off, then continued in a sing-song voice, “hands were wandering…”
I shoved back the flare of white-hot jealousy until I could think clearly. I knew what Tamara’s game was and what she was trying to do. There was no way Grace would do something like that. She wasn’t that kind of person. Grace had more honor in her little pinkie than the woman weaving these lies. “Grow up, Tamara. Spite isn’t pretty.” I jabbed the button, cutting off her squeal of protest. But what if Tamara was telling the truth? I quashed the seed of doubt, planting it ten feet under. I wasn’t going there, not with Grace. She’d trusted me last night and the least I could do was return the favor.
But I couldn’t help but wish that she’d asked me to go with her.
I stared at the phone, willing it to ring. For Macey to tell me she had more news, another lead. I felt like I was banging my head against a brick wall, my slow progress screamingly inadequate.
It wasn’t good enough. The missing people were relying on me to find them. Not to mention I had to finish this assignment so I could stop pretending to actually like these assholes. Once it was all over I’d be able to come clean with Grace and hopefully she’d still want me, even when my family disowned me again. Grabbing my wallet, I set off out of the house, renewed determination humming through me. Would she move back to America with me? I could picture it—her teaching self-defense in a studio downtown while I was out hunting bad guys, both of us coming home at the end of each day to spend the nights tangled in each other’s arms. Hot, sweaty mated bliss.
I turned down the street I was looking for, the birds chirping their early morning song in a sweet mockery of what I was about to do.
He’d better be home. I’d dropped by late last night but the house had been empty. For a couple of minutes, I’d been of two minds whether to break in or not, but had decided against it. Breaking and entering without leaving a trace wasn’t my forte.
I might not give a shit about pissing off the head of the British Shifter Council, but I might need his help.
That’s if he wasn’t the one I was looking for, and there was only one way to find out. I flexed my hands in preparation, adrenaline surging.
This was the part of the job I was fucking brilliant at.
Chapter Eighteen
Vin
“Do you know what fucking time it is?” Corbin grunted while dragging a hand over his face. He squinted at the pale blue sky, scowling as if it offended him on a personal level.
“Late night?” I hadn’t expected him to answer his own door; an important man like him should have staff at his beck and call.
I squeezed past him, not waiting for an invitation.
“Why are you here, Vincent? And how the hell do you know where I live?” He clicked the door shut, plunging the hallway into darkness.
Eyes adjusting to the sudden loss of light, I glanced around, noting the thick layer of dust coating the piano lodged in the corner and the lack of furniture, though you could see where it had been, the floor marked with faded outlines. Good job I hadn’t broken in; I would have left fingerprints. Hell, I might have even left footprints. “Selling up?”
“Something like that.” He folded his arms over his chest, a glower on his face suggesting the subject was off limits.
I’d never been one for following the rules. I strolled over to the piano, running a finger over the lid. It was obviously a fine instrument despite the neglect, the wood gleaming under the dust. “Going somewhere?”
“Don’t touch the piano.” It was a low growl, a warning.
I held my hands up, an easygoing smile on my face. “Okay, man. No problem.” I wrinkled my nose at the stale smell permeating the air. “If you’re going to sell this place, you might want to hire a cleaner.”
“I’m not selling,” was the curt reply.
Just selling everything inside the house. Weird.
“Can we talk?” I indicated the closed doors, figuring one of them must be his office. Every man that thought himself important had an office. Like it was a status symbol or something.
He dragged his hair back with his fingers and secured it at his neck with a band fished out of his pocket, and for the first time since arriving I noticed the stress lines bracketing his mouth and the haggard droop to his eyes. He didn’t look much like the man who’d auctioned me off the other night. This man looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he was crumbling.
I know that feeling.
Still, I had a job to do. Quashing any sympathy, I pushed open the nearest door.
His hand reached around me and slammed it shut again.
But not before the image of what I’d glimpsed had seared itself into my brain.
“Don’t say a word.”
I turned, forcing my face to remain passive all while my mind was screaming what the fuck? “Not even the word ‘banana’?”
His lips twitched. “You’re not what I expected.”
I shrugged. “What did you expect?”
“From how everyone described you, I thought you’d be more…” He frowned, his hand circling in the air as he searched for the least offensive description.
“Good-looking? Charming? Loser? More of an asshole?” I supplied helpfully.
“Oh, you’re an asshole, all right.”
“Thanks, I do try.”
“More self-absorbed,” he concluded.
I strolled over to the next door, monitoring his reaction. “Who’s to say I’m not?”
“If I asked you what is at the top of the stairs, on the wall to the right, you’d be able to tell me.” It was a statement of fact.
Forcing myself to stay relaxed, I cocked an eyebrow. “But why would I remember whatever it is that’s there?” Small photograph of a young child on a swing.
“Most people wouldn’t have noticed something was there in the first place, but you did. You looked.”
“What can I say? I’m observant.”
“If you say so.” He moved past me and slid the door open, gesturing for me to follow him inside.
Polished wood gleamed rich and smooth, not a speck of dust in sight. A fire crackled in the hearth despite the warm morning, the flames flickering and jumping over a pile of logs. I sucked in a deep breath, appreciating the clean, sweet-smelling air. So, he had at least one room in the house that he lived in.
Corbin ignored the large desk, instead throwing himself down into a chair next to the fire.
Taking the seat next to him, I hooked a foot over my leg and stared at him. So far the man was a big question mark, and nothing I’d seen had convinced me either way which side of the line he stood on. Though I was pretty sure of something… “Which branch of the military?”
“One you wouldn’t have heard of.”
I nodded. I was pretty sure I would have, but I didn’t press him. He knew that I’d served; my father would have told him. I needed an opening, a reason for being here. Luckily I’d dreamed up an excuse on the way over. “I need to talk to you about Grace.”
“What about her?”
“I�
��m not sure I made the right choice.” Saying the words, even knowing they were a lie, made me feel sick. “I’d like to keep my options open, see who else is available. I was hoping you’d have a list of names for me.”
“You came here to ask me that?” It was hard to miss the steel in the other man’s voice, but I sure as hell couldn’t miss the look in his eyes. Like I was a pile of shit.
“Why not? If I’m going to end up sleeping with the same woman for the rest of my life, then I need to be sure.”
“You know what? That’s fine by me. Grace will no longer be your mate. You’re free to choose someone else.”
“Hey! Wait a minute—”
He leaned forward, his fingers curled around the arms of the chair and digging in, as though holding onto his anger by the skin of his teeth. “You don’t deserve a woman like Grace.”
I bolted up out of the chair, baring my teeth at him. “Do you want her for yourself? Is that it?”
In seconds he was standing, a snarl on his lips. “Are you one of those shifters who thinks humans aren’t good enough?”
He hadn’t answered my question. I leaned forward, putting us chest to chest. “Do…you…want…her…for…yourself?” I growled as my wolf flashed into my eyes. If he thought for one second I’d let him anywhere near—
“No. But you do. So why the hell are you telling me that you want to play the field?”
I’d been fucking played. Rocking back on my heels, I rubbed a hand over my chin. “I need to ask you something, and I need you not to fight back. Just let me extract the answer. Can you do that?” This wasn’t how I’d planned it, but my instincts were insisting that Corbin wasn’t connected. I had to be sure.
He considered me, taking my measure. “Is it a matter of life or death?”
Deja vu rocked me, a woman’s voice overlaying mine as I echoed the words she had said to me, “Yes. Life or death.”
“Go on then.”
“You’d probably better sit down.”
He followed my suggestion with a grim look on his face. “If you mess with me I’ll fucking destroy you.”
