by Jami Gray
Suddenly, Gavin was there, taking over the task. “Here, let me do it.”
He didn’t wait for permission, but grasped her left shoulder. The contrast of his darker skin against her own pale flesh shot a spark of heat through her bloodstream. Turning her slightly, he guided her to the kitchen table. He shifted and pressed firmly down on her right shoulder. When she balked, he kept his hand in place and pushed until she reluctantly sat in one of the straight-backed chairs. His long fingers lingered over the second tattooed band of ancient knots and ravens covering the upper part of her right arm.
She stiffened instinctively.
He dropped his hand and pulled out the chair facing her, his sharp gaze inspecting the wound. “It needs stitches.”
“Yeah, I figured.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s surgical thread and needle in the kit.”
Shadows played over his angled face as he turned away to grab the kit. He scrounged through the kit, until he found what he needed. He laid his supplies out and sat.
Watching him prepare the needle, she couldn’t stop her slight grimace.
His small smile proved he caught it. “Ready?”
Giving a short nod, she took a deep breath. Years ago she had been used as a lab rat, making her fairly immune to pain. Yet, for all the horror she endured, needles tended to make her inwardly cringe.
Bending over her side, he worked the needle in and out of her flesh, the tug and pull of it moving through her skin causing a dull, discordant pain. It triggered flashbacks.
The bone searing ache of cold iron as it burned its lasting impression into her wrists, ankles, and neck. Her body seizing as rivers of fire and ice ran through her blood. Inhuman noises ripping from her raw throat as she fought not to lose her mind to the agony consuming her. Men in white lab coats watching it all with emotionless eyes.
The shrill whistle of the teakettle snapped her back to her kitchen.
Gavin finished the last stitch. He looked up and his gaze sharpened.
She felt the thin film of cold sweat coating her face. “Go, make the tea.” Her voice came out hoarse. She needed a moment to pull herself together, before he saw more than she wanted him to. “I’ll put the bandage on and clean up this mess.”
He watched her for another moment, but she knew what he saw because it was all she would allow him to see.
Unlike his sherry colored hair held back by a neat tie, her black hair was unraveling from its tight braid and straggling around her face. Thanks to her partial Fey heritage from her mother, she looked like she was in her late teens, early twenties. Most people mistook her for a kid, until they got a good look in her eyes. Silvery gray, they held the coldness and knowledge of someone who had gone through hell—with a couple of repeat tours. She’d overheard the word “eerie” used a few times. That look, along with the faint scars on her wrists and the one resembling a collar around her throat, generally made people walk cautiously around her.
It was either her looks or her take-no-shit personality. Privately, she preferred to attribute it to her personality.
Standing slowly, she kept a hand on the table waiting for the little light-headedness to pass. When she was sure she wouldn’t end up on her face, she grabbed gauze and tape, then covered the stitches.
From behind her came the delicate chimes of her teapot on her mother’s china. She finished to find Gavin at the counter near the stove, arranging two cups of tea. Moving to the sink, she felt the weight of his gaze as she tossed the soiled bandages in the trash before rinsing the used needle.
Finished, she faced the silent, disturbing man invading her kitchen. Wiping her hands on a towel, she decided to get to tackle the elephant in the room. “Okay, you have your tea. Now what’s so important you had to break through my wards at—” She glanced at the clock behind him. “Three-forty-five in the morning?”
“Your wards were good, just not complicated enough.”
His critique rasped over her temper. Something in her face gave her away because his mouth twitched.
He took the two cups to the table, his voice suspiciously innocent, “Would you like me to re-do them?”
It was a hell of an offer considering his proficiency with warding magic was legendary, a gift from his very powerful witch mother.
“No.” She kept a close eye on him as she followed and sat in her chair, wondering what the truth was behind his visit. “Answer my question.”
Wraiths rarely made house calls, or to be more accurate, they were rarely caught making house calls. His unexpected appearance triggered a tendril of unease. Thoughts of past sins flickered, but she shoved them down ruthlessly. Her secrets were still safe. Hopefully.
Gavin settled in across from her with his usual sardonic expression, which gave nothing away. “Mulcahy wants you to report in tomorrow morning.” Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his long, jean-clad legs at the ankles and sipped his tea. “There’s a new, high level job waiting for us.”
This was unexpected. “High level” was another way of saying the job was Wraith material. Despite Gavin’s casual appearance, she knew he was judging her reaction. Previous experience taught her the nonchalant attitude was a front hiding his lethal mind and lightning-fast body. Forewarned, she gave him nothing. “Us?”
Loners by nature, Wraiths didn’t work well in pairs. The highly secretive nature of their work wasn’t conducive to lasting partnership—professional or personal. Only in extreme circumstances did they team up.
So what did the boss consider so dangerous it required the top two Wraiths?
Granted, Gavin’s main strength lay in his use of magic, but his weapons skills followed at a close second. Raine, on the other hand, was a living weapon, nearly unstoppable when armed with anything holding a sharp edge. Magic had its uses, but she didn’t have the patience needed to master such a fickle force.
The one thing she and Gavin both shared was their belief that rules were merely suggestions. Mulcahy, their boss, was very aware of this fact since he commented on it many times, usually accompanied by gritted teeth and growls.
“Yeah, us,” Gavin drawled. “And no, I don’t have a clue what it is.”
She took a sip of her tea, her mind churning. Ryan Mulcahy held dual roles. In the human world he was the CEO of Taliesin Security. In the Kyn world he was the head of the Fey contingent and, more importantly, the captain of the Wraiths.
Taliesin housed the four heads of the Northwest Kyn community, which consisted of the Fey, Shifters, Magi, and Amanusa. The worldwide magical community was divided into global regions, and each region’s power structure was determined by its ruling majority or, as in Taliesin Security’s case, ruling majorities.
The Northwest held one of the highest concentrations of Kyn, thanks to the vast amounts of untouched nature running from northern California up to the western edge of Canada. It provided a huge power source for those whose magic came from the natural world: the Fey, the Shifters, and the Magi.
Those in the fourth group, the Amanusa, were less able to tap into that source. Since their magic came from a darker power the other Kyn didn’t want to play with, they were on their own. Their population might be small in comparison to the other Kyn species, but the reputation of the half-demon crowd was more than enough to make the supernatural community step lightly around them.
For Mulcahy to call on Gavin and Raine, something big was behind the request. She hadn’t heard any unsettling rumors recently, so it left her curious. Obviously Gavin shared that curiosity, since he managed to hunt her down. He probably thought she knew what was going on. He was out of luck. The realization almost made her smile.
“Fine, what time am I to report in?” Her voice was far from friendly.
“We,” he stressed, “have to be there at seven.”
“Let me guess?” Sarcasm coated each word. “You lost your cell phone and couldn’t just call me?”
Answering humor lit his emerald eyes, causing her breath to hitch audibly.
Proving he didn’t miss much, his lips twitched. “Maybe I just wanted to see if I could get past your protections.” When she refused to acknowledge his double meaning, he raised his teacup in an informal salute. “Besides I heard your tea was good.”
She snorted. “Couldn’t have been from anyone breathing.” Restless she rose, taking her empty cup to the sink. Rinsing it out, she decided to be blunt. “More like you wanted to know if I knew anything. I don’t, so you’re out a few hours of sleep for tea.”
She heard the chair shift as he stood up. Turning her head, she dried her hands with a towel. “Good night, Gavin.” She gave him empty, yet pleasant eyes. “I’ll see you out. Unlike others, I like my sleep.”
Moving with a rolling gait no female could fail to appreciate, he brought his cup over, crowding her as she turned fully around to face him. Trapped between his big, hard body and the counter’s edge, pressing into her spine, she was stuck there. Unless she planned to maim him. Tempting thought.
Invading the hell out of her personal space, he rinsed the cup and preceded to dry his hands on the towel she still held, his knuckles brushing her tense abs. As he placed the cup gently on the counter behind her, he leaned in, bending close. “Good night, Raine.” His voice, low and quiet, stroked down her spine like the rub of soft fur.
Chills danced up her arms.
He bent his head a fraction closer, his mouth hovering over her ear, making her visibly shiver as his warm breath caressed her. “Just to clarify, it wasn’t the tea I wanted to check out.”
She fought to hide her body’s reaction and didn’t look away.
His smile was slight, his amusement evident. “I’ll see myself out, thanks.”
She didn’t move, couldn’t move, as his tall figure walked down the hall and out her door.
Chapter Two
Weak sunlight filtered through the huge windows, outlining the figure seated behind the deep mahogany desk. Physically, the man wasn’t imposing, but the mantle of authority he wore made you sit up and take notice. Ryan Mulcahy looked to be in his mid-forties, but as with most Kyn, he was much older. How much, no one knew for sure, nor did they dare to ask. There was no white in the thick sable hair brushing his narrow shoulders. His coffee-brown eyes were far from warm and friendly—more like dark and deadly—as they focused on her and Gavin.
Gavin’s battered boot rested on his jean-covered knee as he sat in the deep leather armchair to the left. A striking floor to ceiling oak bookcase stood to his right. Raine took a place next to it, her shoulders braced against the wall, arms folded.
“I need both of you to do some investigating.” Mulcahy’s voice was deeper than one would expect. Built along the lines of a long-distance runner, his voice would be more at home on a wrestler. “One of you will cover some deaths we’ve been asked to look into. They’ve been labeled as accidents, but the client feels there may be more to it than that.”
He shifted his gaze to the open folder in front of him. “Food poisoning, accidental fall while mountain climbing, drowning in a pool after one glass too many, a fatal mugging, one suicide, and a two-for-one in a car accident.” He glanced up. “Seems to me this group has had some seriously bad luck over the last few years, or else someone is trying to take them out.”
Mulcahy’s recitation sent Raine’s internal alarms clamoring. Fighting for calm she raised an eyebrow, and shifted her suddenly damp palms behind her back. “And the other assignment?”
Gavin shot her a look. “Not bloody enough for you?”
Bearing her teeth, she answered sweetly, “Actually, no.” She tilted her head slightly, mocking him. “Besides, I’ve noticed you don’t mind invading the privacy of others.”
A wolfish grin flashed his white teeth. “It’s the challenge, babe. It’s always about the challenge.”
She curled her lip. “Isn’t that always the story?”
Clearing his throat, Mulcahy demanded their attention. “The second assignment is investigating a minor security breach. A couple of employees have been fielding an unusual number of questions about Taliesin.”
Gavin stiffened slightly in his chair, and Raine’s body tensed in sudden interest. Breaching Taliesin’s intimidating security was no accident.
“What kind of questions?” She forced the question from her tight throat.
Mulcahy leaned back in his chair, his brown gaze steady. “Interesting ones, including inquiries into internal processes. How we’re organized, what services are needed the most, what skills are required, questions on past assignments, who sits on the board.” His gaze met each of theirs briefly. “I’m a bit concerned at the timing of these two cases. It’s a little too coincidental for my tastes.” His smile was more a sneer of cynicism than true mirth. “Regardless, we need to know who’s asking, why they’re asking, and, more importantly, who’s holding their leashes.”
Across the globe, the Kyn used companies like Taliesin Security as public fronts. The companies provided a protective environment where the Kyn and their specialized skills could be put to use, quietly but effectively. In the modern world, the need for corporate and personal security provided the perfect outlet for many warriors of the Kyn. Protecting the weak, righting wrongs, the whole superhero thing, worked for most Kyn.
Raine wasn’t most Kyn.
“What’s the connection?” A deadly seriousness underlay Gavin’s question.
“The client?” Raine guessed, not believing in coincidence any more than her boss did. She searched Mulcahy’s unreadable face. “Who is it, Mulcahy?”
Something flashed through those brown eyes tightening her shoulders.
Whoever it was, she was not going to like the answer.
Mulcahy kept his cold gaze locked with hers. “Jonah Talbot.”
That would be the name. She couldn’t completely hide the quiver of shock and shifted her stance, quickly hiding her involuntary jerk, but knew Mulcahy caught it. “Talbot? The Talbot Foundation, Talbot?” She was proud of how steady her voice sounded. Too bad the rest of her teetered on shattering.
Mulcahy nodded. “It seems Talbot is a bit concerned how some of his associates have been dropping like flies. He’s afraid he might be next.”
Her mind raced, wondering how much her boss suspected. “If that’s the case, why not hire a personal security detail from Taliesin? Why investigate the deaths?”
“An answer I’m sure Gavin will learn.” Mulcahy leaned forward. “I want to know if these deaths are connected, or if it’s a ploy set in place by Talbot. There are seven deaths in total and they stretch back almost seven years. If they’re real, I want to know who’s behind them.”
Gavin nodded once. “Do you want to be able to talk to them, or would you prefer a report?” The question was asked in a deceptively bland voice.
Mulcahy’s lips twitched at the other man’s unsuccessful attempt at subtlety. “I want to talk to them, especially if it’s one of ours.”
Before Raine could open her mouth, Gavin cut in, “Ours?”
“Quite possible.”
Quickly squelching a skin-numbing combination of fury and panic, Raine fisted her hands at her side. She didn’t want to dwell on the reasons behind her panic, but the ones behind her anger were easy to identify. No way in hell did she want to deal with Jonah Talbot, she rather be skinned alive. Problem was, she might not have a choice, especially when the two cases connected. A connection that held a high probably of being made considering Mulcahy’s instincts tended to be dead on.
Locking her internal chaos down, she returned to the conversation at hand. “What makes you think it’s one of ours?” The hidden question being what connection did Mulcahy see that others missed? It wasn’t something she could ask outright since asking questions of her boss was akin to finding a solid patch of ground in the middle of a marsh.
“Call it a hunch.” Mulcahy faced her and leaned back, expression blank, eyes steady. “Looking at the deaths separately, there are no obvious ties. As a group, it becomes a bit m
urky. The lack of a pattern and the length of time it’s taken to knock off Talbot’s associates speaks of patience, planning, and cold ruthlessness, at least in part.” His shoulders rose in a negligent shrug. “Perhaps it might be best to offer such an individual a job with us, unless they’re already ours. Regardless of how it plays out, I want to make sure we covered all our bases. Either Talbot is playing some sort of game with us, or someone wants him dead.”
For Mulcahy to believe the killer may have a link to Taliesin, meant he suspected a Kyn. Based on the skills needed to pull such a series of killings off, chances were if they were Kyn, then they were a Wraith. Each of the twelve Wraiths could claim those identifying traits. After all, each one was an expert assassin, and patience and planning were necessary elements of well-planned assassinations.
The tricky part was the Wraiths’ identities were not common knowledge. In fact, only Mulcahy and the other three Kyn leaders knew all twelve individuals. Raine knew only a few.
“What if it’s both?” Gavin pressed with quiet intensity.
“Let’s hope they get Talbot first,” she muttered as she uncurled her fists, flexing her numb fingers.
“Is there a problem, Raine?” The rumble of danger in Mulcahy’s voice speared shards of dread into her bones.
Yanking her head up, she caught Gavin’s sharp look. She had to get a grip. “There are rumors surrounding the Talbot family.” Her tone was cautious. “I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea for the company to be involved with him.”
“Do you know Jonah Talbot?” Her boss’s casual position didn’t alter, but she wasn’t fooled.
She had to tread carefully. “Not really, but from what I’ve heard, it might be a better option to help out whoever is knocking these guys off.” She shrugged stiffly, trying to release the fine line of tension in her shoulders. It didn’t work.
