by Isis Rushdan
Her gaze ricocheted around the room.
One guy wore a leather vest, revealing python arms and a tattoo of an eagle clutching an anchor, pistol and trident on his bulging biceps. He hovered to her left near the balcony door with a cell phone to his ear. “We’re in,” he said to whoever was on the other end as he strummed a black baton strapped to his utility pants.
The third one, clad in all black, disappeared into the bedroom.
“You storm into my apartment with a gun, and you’re concerned about me getting hostile? Who are you?”
“Russ Stone,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“What in the hell do you want?”
He scooted to the edge of the chair. His shins hit the coffee table, the only barrier between them. He held up the picture of Cyrus. “How do you know him?”
Something heavy was knocked to the floor in the bedroom. The sound of drawers opening and closing echoed. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer and her chin trembled.
The man on the phone paced, not taking his eyes from her.
“Ms. Shaw, I don’t like to repeat myself. It’s in your best interest to answer my questions the first time. If I have to ask a third time, pain will follow. Do you understand?”
“My boyfriend works for him. He’s his lawyer.” Her fragile voice wavered.
“How did you meet him?”
She tried to swallow, but her tongue had turned to a clump of sawdust. Cyrus was too perfect. He was probably into dealing drugs or some seedy black market business.
The man snapped his fingers twice. “I’m in short supply of patience.”
“I met him at a party two nights ago.” She curled her arms around her belly, reeled in her wits and regained her bearings. “Who are you? And what do you want from me?”
He slipped the picture into his pocket and formed a steeple with his fingers. “My employer wants to know why he’s interested in you.”
“Your employer? Who do you work for?”
“This will go faster if I’m the only one asking the questions. What is his interest in you?”
She shook her head and shrugged. “I guess I’m just a pretty face that caught his eye. He wanted to take me to dinner.” But how did they know he was interested in her?
The one on the phone repeated everything she said.
Stone cracked a predatory smile. “Ms. Shaw, if you’re honest with us, we’ll leave you alone.”
Life with Evan might be dull and empty, but at least she’d be safe and alive. “Why would I lie? I swear, he only asked me out on a date.”
“He comes across pretty faces and cute asses all the time. Although I’ll admit,”—his gaze bounced from her breasts to her legs—“you are exceptional, but he’s never taken an interest in a human woman before.”
What? “You said human as if…he’s not.”
He tilted his head to the side. “You have no idea what he is, do you?”
Her fingernails dug into the leather cushions. She felt more normal with Cyrus than anyone else, as though she finally belonged. The sound of his voice and the way he looked at her felt right, his touch felt right, connecting to his flowing current of energy felt completely right.
How could he not be human?
Stone stepped over the table and plunked down beside her. “You like him, don’t you?”
He put his arm across the back of the sofa. She shivered, like glass ready to shatter against the gust of a tempest.
With his index finger, he drew circles on her shoulder, working his way across her chest. She swallowed a lump of ice forming in her throat and turned her head away from him.
“Did you let him touch you?” he whispered in her ear. His finger weaved down across her sternum, inching toward her breasts. “Answer me.”
She jumped to her feet, but he snatched her forearm and forced her back down. Without thinking, she slapped him so hard her hand stung.
He growled and cocked his fist, ready to smash into her face.
“Stone,”—the man holding the phone shook his head—“stay focused.”
Her chest heaved and her stomach did somersaults as she struggled to take deep breaths. “You’re insane.”
“What is his interest in you? This is the last time I’ll ask nicely.”
She slid back into the corner of the sofa. “I told you. He only asked me out to dinner.”
“I don’t think he’s just interested in dinner and a fuck. That red-haired bitch of his started following you long before he sidled up to Evan Wade.”
Her heart contracted. Talus had been following her? Why? And how did he know about her before he met Evan? It didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand. Why would he have me followed?”
The third one reemerged from the bedroom and wandered into the alcove that served as storage space for her artwork. The top of a sheathed sword extended above his black shirt collar.
Intimate drawings of her dreams crammed the walls. He stood facing an incomplete sketch of a falcon, the left eye the sun and the right a crescent moon.
The burly one on the phone gripped the handle of his baton and faced her. “Ms. Shaw, do you have any birthmarks? Any peculiar blemishes?”
Restraining an impulse to put her hand over the back of her neck, she shook her head, grateful for her long, thick ponytail. “No.”
The beast beside her ran a finger from her knee up to her hip. “Maybe we should strip you and check?”
He licked his lips and she squirmed, forcing her breakfast to stay down.
“Easy, Stone.” The guy closed the phone. “Artemis is going to come back today. We have instructions to take her in,”—he nodded at Serenity—“and determine if she’s friend or foe.”
“Take me in?” She clutched her satchel. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“What if one of them shows up?” Stone asked.
“We’re cleared hot to use lethal force.”
Stone gave a sidelong grin. “About time.” He whipped out his gun.
Damn thing was a mini cannon. He turned a dial and lights briefly danced along the side. One square illuminated, then a second, like the gun was powering up.
“Bingo!” called the one from the alcove.
Stone stood and Serenity looked over the back of the sofa.
Holding her drawing of the dark angel, the man approached. “She’s seen one.”
“One what?” she asked. The picture of the sapphire angel was a side profile, his wings hung low in an unassuming manner, draping his shoulders and back. Her charcoal sketch couldn’t capture the splendor of his skin, midnight blue with the soft iridescence of the ocean in moonlight. But angels didn’t exist, especially blue ones. “I dreamt about him. He’s not real.”
Stone put one hand on the arm of the sofa and the other on the edge near her head, caging her in with his thickset arms. “A shame you said he instead of it. When you turn out to be foe and I’m given the green light, I’m going to have fun hurting you.”
He grabbed her wrist and squeezed, cutting off her circulation with his tightening grip. She winced, but refused to cry out.
“Knock it off, Stone. Artemis said she’s not to be hurt. Let’s get out of here.”
Stone yanked Serenity to her feet and moved aside. She scooped up her satchel and held it to her chest. Her legs wouldn’t move. Never leave with an assailant. That’s what cops said on the news. When victims were removed from the initial scene of a crime, the odds of finding them alive dropped exponentially.
One thug stood at the front door. Another blocked the hall to the kitchen and bedroom. She had nowhere to run. The only clear exit was the balcony. Even if she made it to the tiny terrace, which was unlikely considering Stone stood less than arm’s length away, she’d have no place to go except down more than thirty stories.
Stone snatched her by the arm and dragged her out the door. He hit the button for the elevator, clutching her forearm. His fingers bit into her tender flesh and he gave her a wicke
d smile, flashing pearly white-capped teeth.
The numbers for both elevators climbed to the thirty-fourth floor. She draped her bag across her body and used two fingers to open the outer compartment containing her pepper spray. Once they were clear of the lobby and onto the street, she’d mace the prick holding her and make a break for it, screaming at the top of her lungs to draw as much attention as possible. She wished she had on sneakers instead of clogs, but she could sprint barefoot if need be to get away from these goons.
The elevator on the left chimed and the doors opened. Cyrus stepped out, holding a bundle of flowers. The bouquet fell to the floor and his fingers curled into fists.
All three men maneuvered backward.
Chapter Five
The elevator doors closed behind Cyrus and he tightened his fists. His knuckles cracked as fury set his muscles ablaze. Damn mercs had finally crossed the line. If they’d hurt Serenity, he was going tear their limbs from the sockets.
One merc had her forearm locked in his hand, back pressed against the doors of the second elevator, with a photon gun jammed into her ribs. From the partial line of lights along the top, the gun was still charging.
Serenity’s cheeks lifted as she smiled at him, but her brow was riddled with worry.
The shrill sound of metal scraping metal refocused his attention to the other two men standing in between him and his mate. One dressed in black unsheathed his sword, maintaining a steady grip.
A man wearing a vest held a black baton in each hand. He touched the tips of the rods together and white sparks spewed forth. Electrified.
Probably not enough voltage to do serious damage. Most likely high enough to disrupt his energy stream and to hurt a bit, but he wasn’t one to shy away from pain.
The man with the sword lunged. Cyrus bobbed and weaved, socking him in the jaw, drawing blood. Humans were so slow.
Sparks burst as the other guy advanced, landing a sizzling strike to Cyrus’s leg.
He grimaced. The batons were hot enough to scorch his pants. While his attacker went in for another wallop to his leg, Cyrus rammed his elbow into the man’s back.
Metal sliced the air. Cyrus blocked a blow from the sword with his arm. The blade cut the sleeve of his shirt, but it would take more than steel to penetrate his warrior’s skin. He twisted the man’s wrist, slipped the sword free and kicked him in the gut, sending him soaring through the air past Serenity and the merc who had his slimy hand on her.
The doors of the second elevator beeped and opened. The guy with a scar yanked Serenity into the elevator and with a chime the doors shut.
Cyrus twirled the sword and stalked toward the one brandishing the batons. He didn’t have a minute to spare. With a flick of his wrist, he swung the blade up. As the sword connected to one of the batons, knocking it from the merc’s hand, a bolt of electricity stung him.
He tightened his grip on the sword and pounced. Snatching the merc’s hand holding the other baton, he twisted it.
Bone crunched, causing the pathetic human to wail. The merc pulled out a nine millimeter with his working hand. Cyrus applied more pressure, bringing the merc to his knees, stepped on the gun and slammed the butt of the sword in the guy’s face. He wanted nothing more than to kill him, but the edicts of his House demanded the preservation of human life whenever possible. And a dead body would only require clean up and disposal.
He ran to the elevator, shoved the blade in between the doors, cracking it open. Using his fingers, he wrenched the doors apart. Without a second thought, he jumped into the elevator shaft.
Serenity kicked Stone in the shin as she tried to pry his fingers off of her wrist.
“Behave,” Stone warned as he slapped the button for the lobby again. He glanced at the gun. The lights on the side of it now formed a solid line.
Something heavy hit the top of the elevator and the compartment shook. Stone let her go, bending at the knees and putting both hands on the handle of the gun, aimed at the ceiling.
The hatch on top of the elevator creaked open and she glimpsed Cyrus.
Stone fired. A white burst of energy like a sphere of lightning blasted through the hole, and a backflow of heat grazed her. The hatch door slammed shut.
Cyrus! She attacked Stone with both fists, clobbering his head and hands. With one arm, he knocked her to the floor.
Her head spun as she used the railing to stand.
Stone fired at the roof again. The white globe of energy blew off the steel hatch door.
What kind of weapon had that type of power?
He pumped two more shots. Light bulbs shattered, raining glass on her head. Bits of sizzling metal and crackling wires dropped from new holes. An odor reminiscent of burned rubber clogged her nose. Cyrus stood on the side of the roof, hunched, wary, ready to strike, but if she could see him, then so could Stone.
Without delay, Stone fired, launching another luminous white sphere. Cyrus gripped his chest and fell backward.
“No!”
The thudding sound of his body bouncing against the elevator shaft resonated in her soul. She whipped out her pepper spray and depressed the contents in the bastard’s face.
Bellowing, Stone swung at the air, blindly waving the gun. She ducked and scooted to a corner. Pressing her back against the wall, she covered her mouth with both hands to keep from making any noise. One shot from that gun would take her head off.
The elevator jerked to an unnatural stop, gears grinding in a high squeal. When the doors opened, she crawled to the edge of the elevator car, which hung a few feet above the lobby floor.
Stone snagged the strap of her bag and dragged her—kicking and screaming—back inside. “You little bitch!”
Thrashing at the air, she clawed at his hand to get loose. She slipped the front of her satchel over her head and tumbled out of the elevator and into a wall of warm flesh.
Cyrus held her, his oscillating current of energy pooling into hers. Their eyes met for a second, before he spun her behind him.
He hopped into the elevator and lunged at Stone, grasping him by the throat. “If you ever touch her or come near her again, I’ll kill you.”
With one punch, Cyrus sent the prick hurtling to the floor. He jumped off the elevator and staggered toward her. A singed hole in his shirt exposed seared flesh on his chest and shoulder.
She ran to his side, holding him up at the waist, and draped his arm over her shoulder. He leaned into her as they made their way through the lobby.
They burst through the front door into the gleaming light.
A young man with ebony curls and sunglasses crouched low in front of a dark SUV. He yanked a knife out of the left front tire, flattening it to match the others.
Mustache man, who had followed her earlier, was unconscious or dead with his head propped back against the headrest of the driver’s seat.
The young man spun and alarm shrouded his face. No older than seventeen, he raced to the other side of Cyrus and helped lift his slouching body.
“Cassian, I’m fine,” Cyrus said.
“Let me heal you,” the young man said, hustling toward a sleek black car with tinted windows.
“Get on the road, away from here first.”
The boy nodded. “I didn’t see the merc until I circled back around the block. I’m sorry.” He opened the car door.
Serenity slid Cyrus inside and scooted beside him. Cassian got behind the wheel and pulled into traffic.
Cyrus crumpled into the leather seat. She probed his chest, gingerly.
Golden light streamed in the transparent roof, casting a spotlight on his injury. One shot had hit him square in the shoulder. Burnt flesh puckered, forming blisters over his tender pink skin.
A sob escaped from her lips.
“I’ll be okay,” he reassured with a groan. He was hurt because of her.
“What were you doing there?”
“You said no to dinner. I was hoping you might say yes to a respectable lunch.”
&nb
sp; Tears slipped from her eyes. She couldn’t bear the sight of him in pain. Her gaze flickered over the raw tissue, singed and swollen. The gun had torn through steel. Yet, he sat next to her, flirting, with nothing more than a flesh wound. “How are you alive? You should be dead.”
He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“How can you make jokes? Those men almost killed you and carted me off to—”
“I would never let any harm come to you. I would die to keep you safe.”
Her eyelids fluttered as she gawked at him. She’d known Cyrus less than two days, but believed him.
“Did they hurt you?” He raised his injured arm to caress her face and winced.
She shook her head. “Who are they?”
“Mercs.”
“What?”
“Mercenaries that will do anything for a paycheck. They work for a global consortium, Gallacom Industries.”
“What do they want from you?”
“It’s complicated. The consortium sees our kind as a threat that has to be stopped, and if they take out a few of us along the way, they don’t care. They’ve been aggressive with no regard to the loss of lives. But I’ve never dealt with an open attack by them before.”
The fall down the elevator shaft must’ve given him a concussion, scrambled his head. Our kind? What was he talking about? “You’re not making any sense.”
“They’re unscrupulous people that will do anything to get to me. I’m sorry. I didn’t think they knew about you.” He sucked in a breath as if it hurt to talk.
She put a hand to his clammy cheek. “Pull over and help him now,” she said to Cassian.
“No.” Cyrus shook his head, breathless. “We should get farther away first.”
“Yes!” She looked at the young man. “Please, help him.”
Cassian veered onto the shoulder of the Major Deegan Expressway and came around to the back. As cars whizzed past, he unbuttoned Cyrus’s shirt and peeled the fringes away from the charred skin of his right shoulder.
From what she could see of his exposed torso, he was muscular perfection. Only the burned lesion marred his body.
No one had ever risked their life to keep her safe. Evan had rearranged his schedule once to accommodate her need for a vacation, but she had to repay him by playing hostess at a dinner party for one of the partners.
