by Susan Arden
“Don’t think along those lines. There are plenty of shifters who desperately need your help. Need I remind you without the council, the only redress shifters have is with gangs like the Unruled. You think humans would stand for that? We’d all be on the run and hunted or worse, there’d be a war and one I doubt shifters without real weaponry could wage and win.” He closed his eyes.
“Easier said than done. This is my blood,” Shawn growled.
“Bull-fucking-shit,” he countered and flashed open his eyes. “My blood now, bro.”
Shit, he needed to get this business with his family completed and return to Denver and deal with Necrodemas himself. Yeah, it was time to call his crew into action, even if it meant tapping into SEAL and family connections. With Shawn questioning his efficacy on the Council and his wife’s predisposition to get into mischief if left unchecked, he’d cross the ring of fire tonight and be ready to deal with taking out the garbage as he should have done months ago.
CHAPTER 20
Shay nodded to the sentinels, recognizing the guys on the night shift—Darwin and Peyton. “I’m going down to dinner,” she announced, batting her lashes and keeping her eyes innocently wide. She couldn’t tell if they were falling for it as their collective gazes dropped to the ungainly bag she lugged, pretending it weighed nothing.
“What’s in there?” one of them inquired. “Need help?”
“Uhh,” she began and smiled, dropping the cashmere wrap covering her shoulders and chest up to that point. Now, she revealed the cleavage she’d been hiding. Pregnant or not, she wasn’t totally ignorant of the stares from the opposite sex that normally she choose to ignore. Now, she needed every advantage if she was going to give the Den security the slip, and damn, she used her curves like an assault weapon.
Darwin reached for the bag and she pulled back. One whopper coming up.
“Lingerie. I didn’t like the color and I’m sending my exterior security team back to the mall to exchange these things. Unless you’d like to do that. Just some nightgowns, robes, and stuff.” She patted the bright pink-striped shopping bag and peered up into the falcon shifter faces as they rapidly shook their heads.
“Better let your mall team handle that one. Right, Dar?” The one named Peyton elbowed the other sentinel.
“Yeah. Absolutely. I’m cool with that plan.” Darwin knelt to pick up her wrap.
“Well, if you’re sure. I love to escape to the mall. Bet you guys do too.” She winked.
“Oh sure,” Darwin said, shrugging and handing her back her shawl. “Like who doesn’t want to go hang there?”
She did a rapid accounting. Me, you, him. “Thanks, guys. I won’t be late.” She walked to the elevator, biting the inside of her cheek, and pressed the call button. Shit, now they’d expect her back soon. She turned and added, “Unless the jazz trio is the same as last night.”
“It is and they’re good if you like that kind of music,” Peyton confirmed.
She smiled and gave them a thumb up, turning as the ding of the elevator caught her attention. Step one. Check. Now, she just had to enter the restaurant and slip into a restroom, change and she’d be out the backdoor.
At the maître d's station, she waited to be seated and pushed aside a tightening of her chest, a pinching discomfort as though someone were staring daggers into her skin. Lifting her eyes, she met the seedy gaze of Dimitri followed by the immediate overarching instinct to shift into full leopardess form. She dropped the bag and grabbed onto the edge of the wooden counter. What was he doing here of all places?
Well so much for security! She watched, convinced her whole world had stopped spinning as he rose from his table, tucked in his tie, and buttoned his jacket. Please, she prayed. Do not come over here! She kept her face impassive but when it rained, it stormed. He must have excused himself from his dinner companions and waved in her direction. Exit. Abort. Leave the premises now! All good warnings and ones she should heed. Yeah, and run away with her tail between her legs. Not this time, Shay.
She flicked her attention to the other people at his table, and recognized two of them from the photographs in his home in Lisbon. Dimitri’s daughter and his son along with two other men she didn’t recognize. Thank God that slimeball Dark Fae Pestrolii wasn’t here or it would go down as the night all hell broke loose. She curled her fingers and the two-inch long talons that had broken free at the tips of her fingers scraped the wood. Dammit! Carefully she reached down, winding her fingers around the ribbon handles of the bag and pulled her parcel in front of her. These talons weren’t feline claws but dragon—sharp, curved, and very deadly.
Surreptitiously she glanced around to see if she might spot anyone who worked security that she knew, but besides the elegant wait staff she didn’t recognize a soul. “Shannon,” Dimitri’s raspy voice always made her name sound as if he was on the verge of a coughing fit.
“Good evening,” she said, finding it difficult to look him in the eye without wanting to spit in his face.
“It’s been months,” Necrodemas replied, then his eyes widened as they fell to her neckline.
Not long enough! Christ, he still made her skin crawl the way he gaped at her cleavage, but if she adjusted her shawl, she’d expose her talons. That fun fact wasn’t something she’d let him in on unless he tried something stupid.
“So you’re here for dinner?” she asked, trying to find out if he was returning home afterward. She could hardly wait for their encore rendezvous where she’d settle this score.
“Ah yes. Campaign strategy. Do you follow the local political campaigns that are underway?”
“No. Never did,” she returned.
“But you should. You’re voting next week, are you not? Isn’t that the reason you’ve returned? We had to delay the vote in order to convene a quorum and since Richard held half the voting firepower, we would be in the lurch had you stayed away. So glad you didn’t. By the way, how is Richard’s recovery?”
She flashed her gaze up to his face and noticed his eyes were narrowed, pulled tight, and gone was the charming veneer. He knew she’d have to come back to vote. What had lain in wait, now the older leopard revealed, and held her focus. In trying to set a trap, she became aware she may have stumbled into one—perhaps not all the way—that was invisible, but still it was out there waiting.
“Father is doing much better,” she lied. “I don’t know if I’ll be needed to cast my vote at the rate he’s improving.”
Dimitri’s brows shot up, and his eyes searched her face but she refused to drop her gaze. Steadily she stared back at him, notching up her chin a millimeter higher.
“That’s good to hear. And you … where did you finally relocate to? You’re not in Denver.”
“Around. My business takes me all over.” Oh brother, that sounded lame.
“Why don’t you join us for dinner? Do you have a date?” He leaned over and whispered. “I know what happened. If you give me the slightest indication that fire breathing reptile forced himself on you, I can help. Deal with your litter and make arrangements for their adoption. We could still be friends … not mated mind you, but close. And I’ll find O’Connor and make him pay.”
She stared back at him and clamped her lips shut. Her heart pounded and she wondered how to respond that didn’t involve her slapping Dimitri’s face. She did what came natural and let her mouth get the better of her. “Actually, I seduced him. My fiancé is a complete gentleman.”
The maître d' returned. “Miss Barclay,” he said.
Dimitri’s eyes glittered dangerously and she could kick herself for giving him a crumb of information except it felt so good to tell him to his face that she’d chosen Drake over him. “I’ll inform Drake that you’re looking for him. Better take care, Dimitri.”
He bowed curtly. “I look forward to that moment. Until we meet again, Shannon.”
If only she could fling in his face it’d be sooner than he presumed, but she’d said too much already. Christ, now what was sh
e going to? Well, according to the spell, all she had to do was face him. Really, she could arrive on his doorstep and say anything—pretend anything. All she needed was five seconds to work the incantation. She arched her brow, confident she’d freaking prevail, and walked with the maître d' to the doorway, then stopped not wanting to push her luck. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’d like to be seated in the other dining area.”
“But of course,” he said in a French accent and smiled at her. “We have the perfect place.”
She glanced over her shoulder, taking note that Necrodemas had returned to his table. Her hands shook from the rush of adrenaline that had flooded her bloodstream. The maître d' led her to a corner table that truly was flawless—a stone’s throw away from entrance into the kitchen. Bus boys entered and exited, and she wouldn’t have a problem waltzing through to the back door and out to her car. No one would expect her to drive away.
As soon as the waiter came and took her order, she removed cash from her purse and placed it on the bread plate, more than enough to cover the meal. The other folks seated in the smaller dining area were couples who couldn’t have cared less about anyone besides their immediate date. She could have done cartwheels down the aisle while on fire and they wouldn’t have blinked.
She went into the bathroom and changed into her black garb and then put on her chef’s costume. She stuffed her clothing into the bag and shoved it under the sink. Exiting the bathroom, one of the waiters glowered at her and whispered harshly, “That’s not the staff bathroom. Marcel will have your hide.”
“Emergency,” she replied over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen entrance. She pushed on the swinging door, escaping inside. The place was buzzing with voices, shouted out orders, pots and pans clanging, and scads of people jostling at the stainless-steel tables, the stoves, and ovens. Off on the far side, there were the dishwashers in an alcove and busboys rushed back and forth with trays of dinnerware. But where was the back door?
No one really paid her much mind as she gingerly walked on the squishy black rubber matting and squeezed between the assistant chefs. Or so she believed until a firm grip encircled her arm. Oh dear God, she stopped and glanced back.
“Where are you going?” An older man asked her. “You that new sous-chef?”
“No. I’m just here to observe,” she replied. “I spoke with Quinn.”
“Quinn?” he replied like that was unimaginable.
“And Sherry,” she said.
The chef frowned at her. “Oh. Well, okay just stay out of the way. Joe, man the sauté station. We’re two down.”
She spun around and headed in the opposite direction. A door flew open and a man walked inside adjusting a chef’s paper hat on his head. “I’m here,” he shouted.
Hunching up her shoulders, she sailed by him and made for the exit, not stopping until she was outside and only then did she slow to remove her keys from the pocket of the apron. No one was around and her breath came out in steamy puffs in front of her face. Her heart pumped overtime and she power walked her way to her car. At this time of night, the dinner crowd was arriving and keeping the doormen and valets busy. If they glanced up, they’d only see a kitchen worker walking and she doubted any of them recognized her car in the yellow sodium glowing streetlights.
Okay. So far, so good. Shay jiggled her keys, untangling them, and reached the driver side of her car when she felt the first sweep of his dank breath on her neck. Her heart lurched so hard it robbed her of her breath. Without turning or seeing him, Shay grasped that the gypsy Dark Fae had found her. Holy goddess, this bypassed suck ass and delved into the Richter scale of epic-fucking-horrible!
The sight of Pestrolii’s eerie blue reflection in the glass of the driver’s window, standing directly behind her convinced Shay there was no time like the present to shift. She had seconds to spin this impromptu meeting her way. Someone’s posterior was gonna get kicked tonight. Not hers!
“Going somewhere, little leopardess?” Pestrolii snickered.
“I might not know karate, but, jackass, I got crazy down to a science!”
• • •
Noah flanked him as they descended into the forest, banking onto a ledge of the mountain. Drake landed and lifted his snout, sniffing the air and grunted to Noah, pointing his wing in the direction of a smoking vent. The phoenix swooped past him, leaving an aromatic trail reeking of frankincense and ginger. Christ, what a diet, Drake mused on what Noah and his crew consumed and kept boiling in the kitchen—a copper pot filled with a thick bubbling resin. They spooned it into glasses, added San Pellegrino and ice, then chugged the concoction down by the gallon.
As leader of his crew, Noah would announce him to the Jinni, a formality that he abhorred but was powerless to change. The Jinni had existed for as long as his family, faithfully serving the O’Connor rage, and these old formalities weren’t his issue once he’d gotten what he came for.
Grant and Evan, the other two phoenixes stood guard outside the mouth of the ice cave, the hidden entrance into his family’s horde. Noah turned back into human form and picked up a piece of wood.
“Mind? I need a light,” Noah asked him.
Drake blew a gust of fire and the kindling caught, serving as a torch. Noah walked by him stark naked in the snow, following a path of glacial ice until he disappeared inside the cave, leaving a flickering shadow on the walls in his wake.
There were elements to watch for as well as preternatural thieves. With the tumultuous weather this week, they’d have to battle frozen mud slides and be alert to the cracking of the glaciers. The whole mountain was enfolded in a wall of ice that had recently begun to grow again. The environmentalists, geologists, and brainiacs all over the world were confounded, not that Drake gave a rat’s ass. He’d witnessed weather conditions come and go and the nonsense associated with El Niño, La Niña, carbon dioxide, acid rain—in the scheme of living things, it was all irrelevant. Big picture folks: the sun was gonna burn out and sooner than the scientists anticipated. Then what?
But for now, this creeping wall of a glacier caused unrest in his family for the obvious reason that scientists nosing around might find their way inside the mountain. Problem in a nutshell: the Jinni didn’t like surprise visitors and the shit would hit the fan.
Hence the reason he didn’t put up a stink about this tradition of Noah announcing his arrival. The Jinni wielded a wicked saber and he for one enjoyed his head attached to his neck. He stood at the edge of the cliff and kicked a few stones with his paw, wondering what Shay was up to. Shit, she better be tucked into bed, enjoying something on television. He could even accept listening to music downstairs, not that he relished the idea of her sitting alone in a jazz club even if it was owned by Shawn. The place crawled with horny shifters. He clenched his jaw and leaned against the side of the mountain, staring up at the stars. A million twinkling lights all reminded him of where he’d traveled a few days ago as he’d made love to her. "Shay,” he murmured, releasing a billowing flame.
“Impatient?” Grant ambled up to him.
“Yeah,” he said. “I want to get this show on the road.”
“Marriage. Honeymoon. Eh?”
Drake snorted a puff of dark smoke. “Dude, you can’t imagine. How long have you been married?”
“Ten years and it feels like yesterday. Mind you, it takes fucking work. If it’s not the kids, then Ellie wants something done around the place. Hell, I just want to get home and relax some nights. Kick back and down a beer.”
They conversed in an ancient language that to the human ear sounded more like clicks than spoken words.
Noah’s flickering torch appeared, illuminating the inside of the cave and Drake straightened. Noah flicked his wrist, waving an “all okay” sign.
“Good luck,” Grant said.
Evan’s glowing red eyes flashed in his direction and he caught his nod as well. “Here goes nothing,” Drake muttered.
“Let’s go,” Noah said.
“Wh
at’s his mood?” Drake inquired.
“His sense of humor is ripe. Shit-eating as usual.” Noah changed back into his phoenix form.
“Great,” Drake snarled and advanced toward the interior of the ice cave.
He and Noah flew, winding around the stalagmites and stalactites that jutted forth like sharpened teeth ready to eviscerate either of them if they didn’t carefully navigate their flight pattern within the bowels of the mountain. The icy encrusted cave gave way to roughhewn walls, dripping with water that ran into steaming aqua-colored pools. The water reflected golden lighting from the stacks of shiny brick—pure twenty-four karat bars—that made up the outer chamber of Jinni’s residence composed of his family’s horde. If dragons were greedy, secretive, and very, very possessive creatures, then the Jinni was pathological in his desire to keep, count, and caress the vast riches that filled the cave. The quarterly inventory where dragon accountants entered to remove select items for trade was not a happy moment for his family or the Jinni. Much gnashing of teeth occurred on both sides of the table.
Drake flew past the huge piles of glittering gems, gold in all forms fashioned by mankind, and other treasures that included works of art believed lost. An exclusive assortment of plants and fungi were kept within a specially enclosed hot house where the Jinni worked to maintain precious botanical and fungal species that had gone extinct above ground and were priceless for their curative powers.
The Jinni bowed over a chessboard, holding onto his chin as if pondering his next move. He didn’t acknowledge them even when one of his nude concubines leaned over and whispered in his ear.
Noah bowed, spreading his crimson and gold plumage upon the ground while the Jinni sat on a throne, pretending to be more interested in selecting a fig from a tray proffered by a concubine with snakes slithering through her hair. Drake gritted his teeth, waiting in silence until the Jinni got off his ass and got with the program.
