by T. A. Grey
“Speaking of spotting people,” she said and poked him in the belly. Shit. His stomach was surprisingly hard with muscle. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her that he kept in prime physical shape, but it did. It was like finding a cherry at the bottom of an already delicious milkshake. “You didn’t really try for a disguise, did you?”
Where he held her against him at the waist, his hand flexed. “Let’s keep focused, Raquel.”
“No, no, no. I won’t have you dissuading me now. I’m on to something and you know it, Jeremy Answer me. You never really cared about the disguises part of the plan, at least not for yourself. That’s why you showed up here in a suit, hat, and sunglasses for heaven’s sake. You do know you don’t look different from the brown leather jacket wearing guy. If anything, you look infinitely hotter.”
He’d been watching her as she spoke, his eyes furrowing one moment, then rising in the next before dipping even lower. Speaking of stomach fluttering, the way he was looking at her made her stomach go haywire.
“I-I didn’t mean…to say that,” she said lamely as her heart thumped so loud in her chest surely he heard it.
His gaze held hers for another searing moment before dropping down oh so slowly. He watched the rise and fall of her chest with her rapid breathing. Surely he couldn’t miss the way her breasts strained against the material with each heaving gasp. The hand around her waist tightened. Unmasked hunger transformed his usual dismal eyes into something purely arousing.
“You shouldn’t say such things to me.”
She had to know. “Why?”
He looked surprised like he hadn’t expected her to push. Well, he could join the club because she was surprised too. “You know why,” he said at last.
She considered his words. “Do I?”
His thumb began idly stroking her through the dress where he held her at the dip of her waist. Her breath fluttered at his caressing touch. He made her knees feel weak and buttery. And when he looked upon her with hunger it made it very difficult not to lean forward and kiss him. Very suddenly, she wished she had the courage to say such thoughts to him. If only… But to chance his rejection… Ouch. She didn’t think she could withstand rejection from this man who she’d fantasized about for so long. She liked him in all his broken ways too much as it was.
“Yes, I think I know why.” It had everything to do with Anita of Redenver house. It would always have to do with her. Her tragic death left gaping holes in the people around her who loved her. Those like Grayson, who it must have been hit the hardest.
A prickling sensation swept up the back of Arabella’s neck making her head twitch.
“What is it?” Grayson asked, alert to the mood change.
The previous playfulness vanished as she cautiously looked around the room for the cause. “Someone is here I think.”
“Donato?” came his harsh whisper.
She called forth all of her ability. It was like she could turn lower the volume over the rest of her brain while raising the dial on her gift. She’d always thought of it as a meditative focus that opened her mind and senses to the power of the gift.
“No, I don’t think so.” She searched face after face in the crowd waiting for the feeling to strike her when she found the right one. But, to her shock, that gut-churning sensation didn’t happen. Had she missed him? Did they just leave the room, whomever it was she’d sensed.
Then, as she gazed across the room it happened—the burning sensation swirling in her stomach. Her focus landed on a person who was the picture of androgynous. The face was neither feminine nor masculine but a composition of both. It was a face one had to look at slowly in order to absorb the nuances.
About six feet and slender, the person wore a flannel shirt with the frayed sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a half-Mohawk. One-half of the person’s skull was smooth and creamy white; the other side was buzzed short around the side and back but hair stood tall and thick off the top. The person wore loose-fitting jeans that gave the individual no discernable shape. Were there breasts making it a woman? Over the flannel he or she wore a blue-jean vest hiding any hint of femininity. No obvious Adam’s apple was discernable because of the high collar of the flannel. The jacket covering it didn’t help either.
Arabella had no idea what Jericho ‘The Butcher’ Donato looked like. There were no pictures of him or his father, Vincent. The only Donato who’d been the most public was the youngest, and, well, look where that got him. She’d seen pictures of the youngest Donato and had studied his face as had Grayson. It figured that they would look similar. The eldest son and the father were like sound business partners. They played together against the world, and they were intelligent—and they could kill. That was a deadly combination.
Beside her, Grayson tensed, his gaze also locking on the person. “Do you know who that is?” he asked.
“No, do you?”
“No.”
The man or woman pulled out a cigarette and started smoking. There was a group of four others with them. The person snapped something at the group then turned around and left. Grayson turned to her immediately.
“Who was that?”
“I don’t know!”
“But they were important? You picked up some…vibe or whatever you call it from him?”
“Him, you think it’s a man?”
He cocked a brow. “You don’t?”
Her jaw dropped. “That was the least masculine looking man ever.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“I want you to admit it. He could very well be a she. Whoever it was is too androgynous to tell,” she said smartly.
“Perhaps.”
Humph. It looked like that was all she was getting from him in that. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him.
Across the room a fight broke out. A man crashed into another, slamming them through a poker table rending it in two, then culminating against the wall. The man’s head hit the wall so hard it rocked several times, his eyes blinking rapidly before he slid to the ground. The man who’d done the damage spat on the floor before turning around with a huge grin to his friends standing in shock at the broken table. The whole casino had turned to watch.
“Clarence, buy this man a drink when he comes to. And tell him that if he tries to cheat me again, I’ll make sure he doesn’t wake up.”
Clarence, who looked as close to a manager in his suit and tie and eager eyes as anyone in this place, rushed forward. “Yes, absolutely, Kane.”
Grayson’s lip curled in disgust. “Kane.”
“And who is this Kane person?”
“I’m surprised you don’t know. He’s your kind. He’ll kill for a steep price.”
She bounced on her feet. “Like an actual mercenary?” she whispered.
He hushed her and pulled her further away from the gambling casino members. Except, unlike the human-run casinos she’d been in, there wasn’t an electronic game machine to be seen. Everything was old school. He tucked them into a corner between the bar and the wall. He placed one arm on the wall beside her head much like a lover might do before he leaned down to kiss his woman.
Only he wasn’t her lover. She just played the part. Yeah, for a paycheck so fat you could live off it for the rest of your life.
Now that he had her backed against the wall and very well pinned, Arabella was helpless not to stare up at him. Probably looking very much like a deer caught in headlights. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
With his other hand he touched her waist, a light gentle touch that scorched her anyway. “Giving us more privacy. There are many listening ears around here.”
“Okay. So what’s next?”
“I need to go take a look around by myself. I’m going to slip past the guard and see what’s being hidden.”
Her back slammed straight. “You can’t do that!” she nearly shrieked.
He crammed his body even closer to her. They were so close they were nearly hugging—not that she minded in the
least. Her breath skipped a beat before continuing at an ever increasing speed at his nearness, as it always did. That melting feeling came back to her knees making her want to collapse in his arms.
Wow. You are such a girly ninny.
I am not.
Better question was: since when?
She had to face it though—Grayson made her weak-kneed like nobody’s business.
“Will you keep your voice down,” he ordered between clenched teeth.
“Yes, sorry, but you had me a little freaked there when you said you want to leave me here alone while you go around doing dangerous things.”
He made a sound as close to a chuckle as she’d ever heard from him. As if he’d started to laugh but gave up half way through. “I need to. Stay here and drink your water. Just look natural.”
“I’m not an actress. I have a hard time lying because my face gives everything away.” She could tell by his facial response that she wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. “Besides, I thought we were supposed to stick together. And,” she added before he could say anything, “what happens when you go into the secret room but don’t come back out? Where does that leave me?”
He nodded once. Did he know, she wondered, that his fingers idly stroked her hip and each time those fingers moved, her body grew warm with something she really shouldn’t be feeling at a time like this?
“I’ll come back.”
“You can’t possibly know that. And we both know that, so don’t even try to fool me.”
He sighed, his patience waning. “Ar—Raquel, I’m going to do this. Just stay at the bar, sip your water, and look beautiful. That’s it.”
Boom. Her heartbeat banged so hard it was like cymbals crashing around her head. She actually physically jerked. “What?” she whispered, the sound barely audible.
He leaned forward to catch the question, his smooth jaw darkening with shadow. How handsome and strong he was; qualities she wasn’t and admired. They weren’t the most complex of qualities but that’s what made her feelings for Grayson so complicated, because they didn’t just stop at admiring his face and body. It went far deeper than that. To places she surely had no place visiting with a man who was forced to burn his mate recently.
And here comes the guilt. Yup, hurts like a bitch.
“Fishing for compliments?” He didn’t look happy about it, though not angry either. Almost like he was curious but trying to hide it.
It took her several moments to find the courage to speak. It was hard when the full impact of his gaze was on her. She was the focus of his attention and that was a staggering amount of pressure. “I was surprised. That surprised me, I guess.” A dark red blush burned her cheeks like a good sunburn. He saw it. There was nothing she could do about that. “Fine, go. You know what you’re doing. I’ll be here acting calm and…” she couldn’t say it. So she smiled instead.
Then he looked at her mouth and her stomach muscles clenched at the carnality in his gaze. “And beautiful.” With two words her body quivered for him.
And then he did something that surprised her even more—and kissed her. Hard, crushing. A kiss that kicked the heat up to ninety and possessed. As quick as he kissed her, he pulled away. “If I’m not back from that room in fifteen minutes, leave. Go back to the estate and tell my brothers what happened.”
She jolted, the protest already on her lips. He halted her though with a hard look, the heat from the kiss gone. Smoothly, he pocketed his keys into her purse. “Don’t start counting until I make it in there. I’m going to advance on it from the other side.”
“How do you plan to make it past the guard?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
She didn’t like this. “I don’t like this, you know.”
Something close to a smile flirted at his lips. “I know. You’ll do what I say?” He wasn’t smiling now. This question was important to him. She could hear the gravity in his voice, see the concern etched around his eyes and mouth in little wrinkles.
Would she do as he said? “Of course.” And not just because he was paying her and there was probably nothing she could help him with anyway, but because it would alleviate the stress of worrying over her. She did it for him.
He grabbed her chin between two gentle fingers as he gazed at her mouth once more, as if remembering their kiss. She swallowed hard, the gulp drawling his attention to the pulse beating at her neck. Then his eyes peered into hers. “Beautiful,” he said one last time, and strolled away.
CHAPTER 22
Grayson left to do go sleuthing and Arabella did what he had asked and sat at the bar with her water. It felt so wrong.
She wanted to help, she really did, but she didn’t know anything about the kind of work he did. She watched him cross the room and enter the men’s bathroom. At first she stiffened but after a few minutes he came out rubbing his hands like he’d just washed them. He was acting natural and doing a damn fine job of it too. The bathroom break was a ploy for him to leave her at a cursory glance.
How the hell did he plan to make it past the guard? Moving into the back room she missed him as he slipped from view. Damn. The room he was wanting to examine was at her back and if she turned around she’d be facing the ever-growing casino crowd. That would surely only call attention to herself. Even with the makeup and hair dye she felt like she was one blink away from being ousted.
Voices grew louder as the night deepened and more people joined. The music was turned up a notch, even the light above the poker tables appeared brighter. She spun around. Fuck it. What choice did she have? She was going to watch what happened next no matter what and if that meant turning the hell around to do it then so be it. No one gasped or screamed while pointing a finger at her. Only one person looked her way. And her stomach dropped. Oh shit.
That man Kane stared at her as if her turning around had summoned his attention. She saw interest there and knew even before he moved, that he would be coming over to her. Kane was a big Were, built stocky around the shoulders and a bit over six feet tall. He was wider than Grayson by at foot. He was headed her way.
With no other choices, she stayed put. She couldn’t flee because she had to watch the clock. He had fifteen minutes and then she was supposed to leave. I don’t even want to think about it. To leave him would be to abandon him to certain death, and probably not a quick one. By the time she told his family, they could have him moved to another secret location.
You could find him. It was true. She could always find him now. One thing she’d learned from the day she experienced her first kiss with Grayson Blackmoore was that she could track those she touched intimately. And that included first kisses. Or so she had learned. For years after that first kiss, she always could sense how close or far away Grayson was. But after so long that feeling began to fade so she’d had no idea who waited for her in that tent that day with Zeke. She still didn’t know who was more surprised: her or him.
With Kane advancing on her, she watched Grayson walk casually toward the guard. What the hell was he doing? Her muscles clenched to keep from jumping out of her seat and yelling at him. Grayson said something and the guard leaned down as if he hadn’t heard him. The music had gotten louder. But then it happened, so fast, in the blink of an eye. She nearly missed it. She was certain the whole room had missed it because no one was paying any attention to the man at the back door or the man in the tuxedo who approached him. It looked completely normal, was completely normal.
But in that blink, the man grabbed Grayson by the jacket, opened the door and threw him into the room. The guard followed immediately after, shutting the door behind him. Panic surged with slow building momentum. Kane was closer, steps away. Grayson was gone. The guard had grabbed him. What did Grayson say to him, why was he grabbed, was he coming back?
“Just who are you?” the big Were asked. He’d stopped directly before her, far closer than she would have liked. Dominants were like that, always pushing into others business with no re
grets.
She looked at the black and gold clock on the wall above the bar. He had fifteen minutes starting now.
Don’t get chicken. Do this for him, Ara.
Fine, fine.
Putting on a smile, Arabella extended her hand. “Raquel, and you are?” He took her hand, not shaking but simply holding it, his thumb sweeping far too familiarly across her hand. She yanked it back. He smiled.
That was never a good sign in her life.
“Kane.”
“No last name?”
“You didn’t give me yours,” he pointed out. She flushed. True and she shouldn’t be steering the question into anything personal, she realized.
“True enough. I’m just Raquel.” She smiled like she had a secret. Oh boy did she. He was in the back room with the guard right now and she had no clue what was going on.
Thirteen minutes.
“Well, just Raquel, you’re a damn fine sight tonight. Are you here with someone?” He watched her, waiting for her answer. She had a feeling that if she said yes, he’d wait here with even more questions until her date returned. And what if he didn’t? On the other hand if she just said no, maybe she could kill this come-on with an I’m not single line.
“No,” she blurted out. His smile grew and he took the seat next to her. Double damn.
His eyes roamed over her hair ravenously. “You have beautiful hair. The kind I can hold while you’re being fucked.”
Whoa, boy. Things just took a turn. Eyes wide, she forced them to look non-affected by his way-out-there statement. Who said something like that a total stranger unless you were trying to shock them?
“And you have a big mouth, the kind great for punching,” she said.
His brow furrowed and she could see him trying to decide whether to take offense. Please take offense and leave me be.
Ten minutes.
How was it, time could choose to crawl one minute and race the next?
