Speak Thy Name (The Nephilim Book 3)

by Dana Marie Bell

  Her stomach growled again.

  Andi’s displeasure was something she’d deal with later. Andi wouldn’t be any less angry if she was told tomorrow or a week from tomorrow. Right now, Sam had some food to eat and some dogs to love on before she passed out for the night.

  Tomorrow, things were going to be great.

  Chapter 2

  Damien Wyatt stared out the window of his office, but the view wasn’t as riveting as it normally was. Instead, a red haze of rage lined everything in his sight.

  “I’ve got enough proof to fire him, but not enough to take him to court.” The feminine voice of his best friend’s fiancée was no-nonsense. Elizabeth Rand, PI, was nothing if not thorough. If she couldn’t find enough to get Larry Palmer jailed, no one could. “If you want, you can try looking for yourself. You might find more than I have, but I doubt it.”

  “The trail you found is enough.” He turned and faced Beth, the anger riding him making him lightheaded. God, how could he have trusted Larry over Sam? All of his instincts had told him that she wasn’t the thief, but the data had pointed toward her. He’d had no choice but to believe it. “I’m going to take care of him today.”

  She nodded, but there was judgment in her gaze, and the verdict was not in his favor. He’d fired her best friend for the theft on the say-so of the very man who’d actually stolen Falcon. He didn’t blame her for being upset on Samantha’s behalf. At least she’d agreed to look into the most recent theft for him, probably hoping to find the very proof she’d just handed him.

  Sam was innocent, and he owed her one hell of an apology. He’d have to figure out how to get her to speak to him without panicking. Every time he was around her he’d been a rude fucker. He wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted nothing to do with him. Hell, he wouldn’t want to talk to him, either.

  How to explain that heart had warred with head? She was so small, so vulnerable-looking, yet he’d torn into her as if she were the enemy. He’d told himself that he couldn’t allow his attraction to stop him from trying to protect not only Dante but Beth as well. Finding out how wrong he’d been made him want to tear Larry apart. He’d trusted the wrong person and hurt Sam more than he’d ever wanted to. Now he was reaping the consequences of his misplaced trust.

  Perhaps Beth could help him with more than just putting the final nail in Larry’s coffin. “How do I apologize to Sam?” He squared his shoulders. He’d do what he could to put things right. This time he’d allow his heart to rule rather than his head. His heart had been right all along.

  Beth’s brows rose. She pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at him for a moment, as if gauging his sincerity.

  He grunted in annoyance. He hated being wrong, but in this case he had no legs to stand on. “I’ll eat crow. Lots of it. But I need to get her to talk to me first.”

  “She likes chocolate. And Chinese food. And Mexican food. Oh, and dogs, cats, and most fuzzy creatures.”

  He blinked. “Okay.” That was a bit more than he’d asked for. “Should I get her a chocolate-colored kitten?”

  Beth chuckled. “She’d probably love that.” She picked up her briefcase. “Oh, and one more thing.” Her glance was evil. “She’s a romantic.”

  “So?”

  “So, if you break her heart, I’ll sick Gabriel on you.” Beth opened the door to his office. “And we both know you don’t want that.”

  Fuck. He fell back into his office chair, his head back as he contemplated what Gabriel Viator would do to him if he hurt one of Beth’s friends. The archangel’s mercy was legendary, but his vengeance was swift. And Beth wasn’t the type to threaten someone and not follow through.

  A buzzing sound interrupted his thoughts. His administrative assistant had been instructed to inform him when Larry arrived. “Yes, Salvatore?”

  “Mr. Palmer is here, sir.”

  “Thank you. Take care of things this afternoon, all right?”

  “Yes, sir.” Salvatore had been informed earlier that when Palmer arrived he was to contact security. Damien wanted Larry out as painlessly as possible. He’d already started buying out Larry’s share of the business, filing paperwork, and preparing things for Larry to sign. He hated having to give the man money to get rid of him, but taking him to court or trying him for theft would be bad for the business. He’d built Wyatt Industries from the ground up, only allowing Larry to buy in when he’d proven himself not only reliable but capable of bringing in clients.

  The only person he’d allow to buy into his business again would be one of his brother Nephilim. He couldn’t trust anyone else ever again, not after the way Larry had screwed him over.

  “You wanted to see me?” Larry breezed in, an easy smile on his face.

  “Yes, I did.” Damien stood and picked up the folder in front of him. “Do you know what these are?”

  “Um, nope.” Larry sat down in the guest chair, making himself comfortable. “Are you going to tell me or let me guess?” That smile was still on his face, but curiosity was starting to eat away at his calm, friendly demeanor.

  Damien handed the folder over. “These are your termination papers.”

  Larry sat up slowly. He opened the folder and started looking through the buyout paperwork. “What the fuck?”

  “You’ve stolen software from us, Larry. I’ve got enough proof to get you out of here.” Hell, he might have enough that the DA could start building a case against Larry, but Damien still wasn’t sure he wanted to put the business through that wringer. Salvatore was all for prosecution, but Beth wasn’t so sure it would work.

  “Show me.” Larry stood, staring at Damien in disbelief. “Show me the proof you’ve got, because it’s gotta be a mistake.”

  “No mistake, Larry.” Damien pulled out another folder and set it in front of Larry. “I’ve got dates, times, bank statements. Everything, going back five years.” Damien shook his head. “You’re the one who stole Falcon, in fact.”

  Larry picked up the file, rifling through the documents. “This is bullshit. Samantha Brody stole Falcon.”

  Damien shook his head. “No, she didn’t. I have proof of that as well, proof that you were the one who falsified reports to make it look like she was responsible.” Another sheet of paper. “You also received funds from Brock Romero at the same time I was firing Samantha Brody.” Yet another piece of paper joined the file. “Most recently, Brock Romero deposited funds into your account for consultation fees.”

  “I’ve consulted with them before.” Larry threw the papers back down on the desk. “This means nothing.”

  “Those fees were within reasonable ranges,” Damien countered. “But this fee was fucking astronomical compared to the others.” He picked up his last piece of paper, one showing the Brock Romero logo for software he’d fucking developed. “This is their latest security software. They named it Interlock.”

  Larry paled. “So?”

  “It’s remarkably similar to the one I started developing called Firewatch.” He smiled. “Looks like they didn’t find the back door I left in it, either. The code was eerily familiar, too.”

  Larry took a deep breath and relaxed, a slight smirk on his face. He knew he’d lost, but Damien couldn’t have him arrested without bringing unwanted attention to the firm. Having a larcenous partner, even an ex one, could be detrimental. Damien had to consider the livelihoods of the workers in his firm, no matter how badly he wanted to see Larry swing. “What now? You buy me out, escort me off the premises, and we pretend this never happened?”

  He really, really wanted to punch Larry in his smug face. Considering how long Larry had managed to lie to him without being caught… “You’ve done this before.” Damn it. Maybe he should hand the case to the DA. Larry couldn’t get away only to do this to someone else.

  Larry shrugged, still smug. “Well?”

  Damien pressed the button. “Salvatore? Send them in.”

  Larry’s brows rose. “Oh, going the ‘security is kicking me out’ route.” He cro
ssed his arms over his chest as he watched the security guards enter, his expression one of disdain. “I need to clean out my desk.”

  “Done,” Salvatore said, stepping past the guards. He held a small box in his hands with a lid on it.

  “I need to make sure all of my belongings are inside,” Larry demanded.

  Salvatore snorted in contempt. “A silver-framed picture of your wife and children, a black-framed picture of your mistress—”

  “Mistress?” Damien tsk’d. “So I wasn’t the only one you were dicking over.”

  Salvatore snickered. “A partially eaten Snickers, an unused condom, six tiny bottles of rum, and a pack of chewing gum, presumably used when you don’t want Mr. Wyatt to smell the rum on your breath.”

  Damien had to bite back his laughter. Salvatore was one hell of an assistant.

  “My files?”

  Salvatore raised his brows. “All electronic and paper files are the sole property of Wyatt Industries. Removing or attempting to access such constitutes theft of our property, which will result in prosecution.” Salvatore shot Damien a look, clearly still in favor of seeing Larry behind bars.

  Larry held up his hands. “Fine. I’ll sign. Give me the box and get out of my way.” He quickly scrawled his signature on the forms in front of him.

  Salvatore handed over the box without another word, sliding in between Damien’s desk and the door. “Have a nice day, Mr. Palmer.”

  Damien watched Larry leave, surrounded by guards. He’d be escorted out of the building, relieved of his badge and car tag, and watched until he left the grounds. Damien began ticking off things in his head. He had to make sure Larry had no way to get into anything Wyatt-related. “I want the door codes changed ASAP.”

  “Already done, Mr. Wyatt.”

  “Excellent. Also, we’ll be sending the sale paperwork through our lawyers. Contact them and tell them to go ahead and submit them.”

  “Yes, Mr. Wyatt.” Salvatore pulled a tablet out of his jacket and started making notes.

  “Make sure any access he might have outside of the building to our servers is cut off. I don’t want him pulling so much as an email off.”

  Salvatore’s eyebrows rose as he struck a pose, his inner diva coming to the surface. “Please. I did that before I emptied out his desk.”

  Damien bit back a smile. The man was an amazing assistant and amusing as hell. “And Salvatore?” He tapped his fingers on his desk. “I want you to do me a personal favor.”

  “Oh?” The barely checked curiosity was pure Salvatore. He was pretty sure his assistant would figure out what was going on long before Damien wanted him to.

  “I want you to send something to Samantha Brody.”

  Now he had Salvatore’s undivided attention. “Like the Hope diamond?”

  Damien blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Salvatore tapped something on his tablet. “It might be enough to get her to forgive you.”

  Damien groaned. No way was he going to tell Salvatore how badly he wanted to go to Sam, to hold her in his arms while he begged for her forgiveness. “She was an employee whom another employee framed. I don’t want the woman to carry my babies. I want her aware that I’ve found the real culprit. That’s all.” He sat back in his chair, hoping he’d managed to pull the lie off. Salvatore was one smart guy. He wouldn’t be able to fool him for long, especially if he was lucky enough to get Sam to forgive him and go out with him. “I want to make things right with her. We don’t want a lawsuit.” Pure, unadulterated lies. Salvatore’s cough sounded suspiciously like a muffled “bullshit”, but Damien ignored it. “Think flowers or candy or something.” God, even to him that sounded lame as hell.

  “Because women love that shit, right?” Salvatore didn’t wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and left the office, busy on his tablet. Damien could faintly hear him speaking on the phone seconds later. “Hello, FTD? I’d like your most expensive bouquet…”

  Damien shut his door, ignoring Salvatore’s chuckles. Sal had been with him since the beginning, and nothing Damien could say or do would remove the man from his side. If he tried, all hell would break loose, because Salvatore’s mom loved him. Hell, she cooked for him. If he got rid of her baby boy she’d never make him that orange flan he loved so much ever again. He’d consider making Salvatore partner just for that flan.

  Hell, he’d consider marrying Salvatore for that flan.

  He picked up the phone and dialed Dante. They told each other almost everything, and with Beth in the mix, Dante would find out anyway.

  “Zucco speaking.”

  “Dante? Damien.”

  “Beth gone?” Dante’s official tone of voice relaxed, turned warm. The man had been lucky the second time around. Beth was a keeper, unlike his ex-wife.

  “About fifteen minutes ago. Also, Larry has been escorted off the property.”

  “Want to file a report on him?”

  “No, not yet. If he comes around, or I suspect he’s gotten inside the building or accessed the servers, I’ll file.”

  “I’d do it now, so there’s something on record.”

  Dante had a point, but he didn’t have anything more than a money chain. “You want to investigate this? You’re homicide, right?”

  Dante sighed. “There’s someone on the cybercrimes unit who can take care of this.”

  Damien drummed his fingers on the desk. “Do it.” Fuck it. If Brock Romero tried to sue him for slander or defamation, he’d countersue. They’d paid someone in his company to hand over his prototype, one he’d patented. He’d be damned if they got away with a slap on the fucking wrist. Besides, it might be one more step in getting Sam’s heart to belong to him. “Include Brock Romero in the investigation.”

  Dante whistled. “Damn, Damien. Is that who paid Palmer to steal from you?”

  “Yup.” Damien opened his top drawer and lifted the false bottom. Inside was his altered .357. “He’s lucky I don’t waste ammo or he’d be a cheese grater.”

  Dante chuckled. “Not sure how well that would sell. Speaking of ammo, though, we’re on tonight. I’ll need to let Beth know.”

  “Anything happening?” They’d been looking for two people and could find neither. Rafe, one of their cell brothers, was missing, and a Shem Angelus had been haunting them for weeks. Angelus were winged Nephilim (or Shemyaza) who made excellent scouts for both sides. Angelus had the powers of flight and invisibility. Seth, one of his partners, was a Neph Angelus with wings made of turquoise light.

  Shem Angelus, like the one they were hunting, had lost their light, their wings becoming nothing more than mere shadows of their former glory. Those dark wings embraced their prey, feeding off their life force in an agonizing death that left the victim twisted and broken.

  Damien would be happy finding either one, but he’d prefer to find Rafe. He was still alive somewhere. The archangel could feel each and every one of them and knew when they’d passed. It was the only hope they had of finding Rafe before he turned Shem. Enough torture could turn any of them, even someone as strong as Rafael.

  “No.” Dante’s abrupt answer echoed Damien’s increasing anger over Rafe’s disappearance. When he found the Shem holding Rafe he was going to fire a bullet straight up the Shem’s ass.

  “Where are we meeting tonight?” He started pulling on his coat and grabbed his gun, slipping it into the special holster he had at his back. He kept it in the drawer at work, but outside, it was on him at all times. If not that gun, then the 9mm he kept in a special ankle strap Dante had helped him pick out. It was one a lot of law enforcement officers preferred when they carried a back-up gun. He made his own bullets, dousing them in holy water, making them particularly effective against Shemyaza.

  “My place.” They were careful at work not to mention anything to do with either the Shem or the Neph, always using euphemisms or speaking around the subject. Normal people could not be told that the angel-born existed, except those they trusted the most. Seth had chosen to tell Abby,
his new wife, and Dante had chosen Beth. Not all spouses were made aware of their Nephilim partner’s activities. For instance, Damien had considered telling Salvatore, but had decided against it for now.

  Damien wished he had someone he could share both parts of his life with. Maybe Sam was that person. She was fiercely loyal to Beth, willing to stand up to Damien despite her discomfort in his presence.

  With Sam, I could have so much more.

  He ignored that tiny little voice, a voice that had been getting louder and louder every day. He’d have to figure out how to get her to forgive him and soon if he had any hope at all of being with Sam. “I’ll be there in time for dinner.”

  “Stronzo,” Dante muttered, cursing him in Italian.

  “Make that ziti I like, okay?” Damien hung up before Dante could object any further. He’d get chewed out over some of the best Italian food he’d ever eaten later. Dante could cook but hated being told what to make, so Damien made sure to do so every chance he got. Besides, Dante’s ziti rocked.

  Right now, he needed to head to Romanov Enterprises. He needed to check up on some things with his Russian brother.

  The fact that Sam now worked for Piotr had nothing to do with it. He wanted to check in on Piotr, maybe update him on Larry’s departure. He’d have to make sure Piotr was aware that Sam was innocent of the theft Damien had accused her of.

  He opened the door to his office and ignored the way Salvatore was snickering. “I’m heading out for lunch.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Wyatt.” Salvatore picked up the phone. “Should I inform Ms. Brody that you’re on your way?”

  Damien gave him the finger as he rounded the corner to the elevators. He was not going to stop and see Sam, no matter how tempting it might be. He had a job to do, lunch to eat, and Shem to hunt.

  And that was it. No cute little blondes for now. No matter how much he might wish otherwise, because damn, she was beyond cute. With her shoulder-length blonde hair and baby blue eyes, she held his attention like no one else ever had.