by Jamie Magee
Reveca smirked. “Cleary the vilest enemies are often right in front of your face, Blackwater.” When his eyes grew a little wider, Reveca let a breath out, hating the very sight of him. “Of course I say that because of the recent confessions of Holden.” She smiled. “No, I’m not aware of anyone that would harbor ill will toward an innocent old woman who did nothing but cook and tend to her garden.”
He watched for an instant before he spoke. “Well, since you’re friends with the family, do me a favor now and let them know that until this investigation is closed they will not be permitted on that property. I can’t seem to get them to return my calls. I’d hate for them to make their way out to that forgotten patch of swamp land only to be turned away.”
“Your boys are out there in this heat, meddling through that foul smelling carnage? Dodging gators and every other slithery thing that grows curious?” she asked. “I seriously doubt anyone, including the Cartier family, is eager to be in your place.”
“Right,” Blackwater said as he put his glass down on one of the tables. “Who’s your new guy?” he asked with a nod in King’s direction.
“Another lone wolf.”
“So quick to invite another in?” Blackwater asked suspiciously.
Reveca nodded toward Cashton. “Him and Cash are buddies. He vouched for him.”
“That a fact?” Blackwater said looking at Cashton.
Not missing a beat Cashton answered. “We’re bloody fucking best mates.”
“Where ‘bouts you meet him? He a foreigner like you?”
“Blackwater,” Reveca said. “Our new friend, along with Cashton, didn’t arrive at the Boneyard until both your mysteries were well known. Let them settle before you try and aim half-assed accusations disguised as idle chatter in their direction.”
“Right,” Blackwater said as he gave a nod goodbye, then left at an insanely slow stroll.
Reveca glanced at Judge once Blackwater was far enough away.
“They don’t have a fucking clue. They’re still going to hold that ground hostage, though.”
Reveca nodded once trusting what Judge saw within Blackwater.
Holding that ground was not good news. It very well could mean a death sentence for the girl upstairs. Reveca needed herbs, ones that she didn’t grow on her own, ones that she counted on GranDee to give her anytime someone needed to make a transition.
That girl upstairs was breathing, but that was about it right now. If Reveca didn’t do something soon, she would fail GranDee’s last request. And that burned. The grief burned. Being drowned by a past that was now staring her in the face—that burned. Acting like life was peachy and normal to Talon—that scorched. Basically, Reveca’s life sucked right about then.
She knew where she needed to go, and hopefully that little errand of hers would answer more than a question or two.
She walked over to the bar, pulled out a bottle of water from beneath it, then glanced at Cashton. “You heading out for a cup of coffee today?” she asked.
Cashton looked past her where King was, then leaned a little closer. “Until I figure out why that bastard thinks I’m the devil, I’m keeping my distance from anyone who can’t defend themselves.”
“You? With a weak girl? You traverse life and death for a damsel in distress?”
Cashton let his stare slide over Reveca. “All power lies dormant from time to time. Let’s just say I haven’t awakened hers yet.”
“So she’s not glowing?” Reveca said with a weak wink, trying to make light of what they’d discussed days ago.
“Not as much as you, Vec.”
Reveca felt herself grow tense but she waved her hand anyway. “What is it with men today? Thinking sweat is sexy. The heat has gotten to the lot of you.”
With that she strolled out of the lounge and made her way through the bays, all the way to the last one where King was crouched over a bike. With each step she took toward him she felt this throbbing building in her, a deep hum of a sensation. One that she’d felt for the first time long ago, the memory of which had haunted her through all of time.
When she set the bottle on his shoulder, that contact, even though it wasn’t flesh-to-flesh, jolted her somewhat, enough that she stifled a groan and clinched her thighs together.
King slowly looked up at her. There was not one iota of shock in those clear blue eyes. He’d sensed her coming. Hell, he’d felt her approach long before she made her way to the garage.
“You need fluids.”
He stood slowly, until he was standing, towering over her. “Is that what I need?”
Reveca’s gray eyes rapidly moved across his image, seeing the past and present as one. “I don’t get you.”
He lifted one brow, stifled a smirk. That wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that to him. Just the idea of where that conversation ended up last time was stirring him, testing every inch of his will power. “Seems like your head’s clearing up there, sweet.”
“Sweet? What is that? A nickname? That’s right…a guy like you, I bet you have one you say to all the girls that nearly faint in your presence because you can’t remember their names. I don’t care for sweet.”
His ice stare searched over her face.
“You’re not going to ask me which one I care for?” Reveca asked. This was her test. Kenson, always, always called her love.
“Sweet will have to do for now,” King said as those long lashes narrowed around his eyes. “No.”
“No what?”
“No, I don’t use an endearment for girls I cross paths with.” He reached to put the bottle of water down on the table but to do so he had to lean near Reveca. “I remember everything,” he said in a deep, quiet voice that was laced with command. It sent a surge through Reveca, a sensation she had not felt since she was a twenty-year-old girl.
Right then the distant thunder of bikes rumbled through the air. She gave King a once over, then turned to go to the dock where everyone parked their bikes.
Right then Talon, Thrash, Shade, and Red pulled in, and just behind them four others.
She waited as Talon backed his bike in, even ensured the smile he liked was in place.
“Miss me?” he asked as she walked to him. Before she could answer, still astride his bike, he pulled Reveca to him. His kiss was deep, claiming, so was his hand that loved the fact that her shorts were loose which allowed him to glide under them without effort. They could hear the other guys whistling.
Reveca had never been one for public displays of affection and Talon knew that so he pulled away far sooner than he wanted to.
“What are you doing out here? How’s our girl?”
“Sick as hell. I was just heading out. How’d it go this morning?”
“Everything is collected, being checked. We make the drop tomorrow night.”
Daily, tourists and locals alike, would board riverboats to gamble. The boats the Sons had affiliations with didn’t take money in exchange for chips, they took filled scripts. After they were collected, once the boats left the dock and made their way down the river, they’d drop a package in the water. A seemingly innocent fishing boat would pick it up, haul it further down river. At a specified meeting point they would pass the drop. The drugs would be taken to a hidden sorting house, checked over, sorted, then packaged again. Days later what was not needed for those under the watch of the Sons was sold to the black market, to a buyer that would offer the drugs at a price a working family could afford.
All drugs were toxic in Reveca’s mindset. The earth had every remedy that was needed, but modern man had developed a habit of forgetting that. They pumped toxins into everything they consumed. Then, instead of questioning why they were sick, they medicated themselves with stronger toxins.
The only way Reveca stomached her role in this business was knowing that in some way they were saving lives—they just weren’t doing anything to break the cycle of destruction. No, corporations controlled the food and they controlled the healthc
are. They were the infection and the cure.
“Blackwater just left.”
“I passed him. What’d he want?”
“Said GranDee’s land was closed off for now, and waved a bullet in my face.”
“A bullet that belonged to their undercover,” Talon said like a curse.
“Right.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked as his dark eyes moved over her. He knew she was pissed about a host of things, and being banned from a garden wasn’t the worst of them but it surely wasn’t going to make her any happier.
“I’m going to go to a different source.”
“I thought sis was ignoring you.”
“Yeah, well, my bro is more agreeable at times.”
Talon laughed knowing that was the furthest thing from the truth. Jamison, a prominent modern southern business man who moonlighted as the most dominant coven leader of all time, kept a wide berth from the Sons and from Reveca.
Talon assumed he was an ass. Reveca knew it was because he still harbored guilt. She was going to use that today, for sure.
“Want me to come?” Talon asked.
“No, I got this.”
He patted her ass as he stood then pulled her lips to his once more. “You’re glowing, babe.” He leaned into her hair. “You gotta stop turning me on when I got business to handle.”
“You get what you put out,” she said only vaguely having to force herself to smile.
She patted his chest then made her way to her bike.
Right as her machine roared to life between her legs, as she felt that vibration all but consume her. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the pull she’d felt all but stab her where she stood just before. Those eyes, clear as ice, were staring out at her from behind the bike King was working on.
Reveca held that glance for a second before she peeled away, looking for the road, an escape, a way to breathe for a moment before she came face to face with Jamison BellaRose. Before she asked him why the hell they waited until Kenson was warped into another man, before she’d become a new woman, before they put a nice little bow on him and slammed him back into her life.
She took the long way to the Quarter, just needing to feel the road for a second. When she did make it to one of Jamison’s finer establishments, she backed her bike against the curb. Flipped off the drunk tourists that were either whistling at her or asking where her daddy was.
She marched right into the front door, passed the stuck up hostess that was surely about to tell Reveca she needed to be dressed differently. She moved through the dining room, letting a smirk linger on her lips when she heard conversations halt. Then she made her way to the elegant second floor bar.
There he was.
Jamison didn’t look a day older than the first time she had seen him, but he damn sure tried. He’d put a little gray in his side burns, dressed in suits, carried a dominance about him.
But to her, he was the same. He was that fallen soul her family nursed back to health, the one that became stronger than they ever imaged. Jamison was the reason Reveca could mock a living life. He was the reason that himself, Saige, and other select members of the coven had grasped immortality.
When the world Reveca grew up in, or dimension rather, began to collapse, Jamison is the reason they survived. He brought them to this one, long ago.
He was sitting at the edge of the bar, looking over some papers. Two women were on the opposite corner, gawking at him. That was pretty normal. The boy was a looker, sharp features, an easy smile. Charm. He had that in spades.
Reveca sauntered right up to him. She didn’t slide into the bar stool. No, she used the bar stool as a step and perched her bottom right on the bar. Slowly she crossed her legs, leaned forward, and gave Jamison a lazy smile as she heard the others in the room gasp.
Jamison had sensed Reveca before she’d ever managed to park her bike, but it made no sense to move to the front to meet her. He could make this room as private as he wanted, so he waited.
“You look ravishing, Reveca,” Jamison said as his blue eyes moved down her, holding his gaze on her he spoke to the bartender. “Ensure our guests make it to the front bar, a round on us. This bar is closed until further notice.”
Reveca held his stare as the few in the room began to leave.
“Why are your eyes so hungry, brother? Where is that innocent you play house with? Are you two having a tiff?”
Jamison didn’t answer until he heard the lock on the main doors slide.
“Brother?” he asked with a lift of his chin and sly grin.
That was all that Reveca needed to see to know that she wasn’t leaving there empty handed.
Chapter Three
Reveca reached for the straw that was in the drink before Jamison and spun the ice slowly. “Yes. Brother. The world at large believes that Saige is your elder sister. Granted it would be hard for them to believe she’s my twin in her tragic state, but still…you and I, well, my father did see you as the son he was never given.”
“Reveca, I would gladly publically claim you as family if you chose to engage in legitimate business, legitimate practices.”
“Semantics, Jamison. I’m a product of my environment.”
Reveca let go of the straw and leaned forward on her knees. “But daydream with me for a moment. If I ever agreed to bend to your will, brother, would you finally introduce me to the next generation of the coven?”
Jamison had managed to do what most would call the impossible a while back. After endless eras of an immortal life he became a father of a child of flesh. To the world at large and the private coven, his life was the picture of perfection, nice and neat inside safe lines. Jamison’s family had no idea Reveca existed. Yet Saige was the sweet, older, eccentric aunt they adored.
None of that bothered Reveca, not really. Innocent young girls had no business in the life Reveca led, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared to taunt Jamison with that threat if she were pushed to, and she was.
Jamison never answered, only let his eyes reflect a practiced smile rich with charm.
“Just over twenty years now, right? The little one.” Reveca threw her head back in mock enthrallment. “Oh, how I remember being that young, grasping power, feeling that surge come through you—downright orgasmic. I bet you have your hands full keeping the boys away.”
No response, not really, perhaps that stare harbored that same ‘knowing’ edge Jamison was notorious for, but nothing more.
Reveca let out a breath. “Big girl now, big enough to want to take down her daddy’s enemies, huh?” Reveca pursed her lips. “Perhaps I should introduce myself to Little Bit, tell her if she was trained properly she wouldn’t need twenty-twos to take down nasty human men.”
“She’s well aware of that, I assure you.” Jamison crossed his arms, nearly smiled. “Are you accusing my daughter of being involved in this?”
“Not at all. You see, when you and Saige call on me to clean up your fuck ups I get curious as to how you fouled your way into the mess in the first place.” Reveca narrowed her stare. “And any time Saige blames me for something it means she’s guilty as hell.”
“She blamed you for this?”
“Don’t act as if you two aren’t sharing Cliff Notes. She said my Rogue’s killed that man, a man you had issues with not long ago. Apparently, Saige thinks that I should believe one of my Rogue’s broke every bone in the man’s body, stopped his heart, then waited a few hours and put a twenty-two in his head. That’s overkill, Jamison, really.”
“It makes more sense for you to think that my daughter did that?”
“Well, I don’t know her so it’s easy for me to assume anything.” She pursed her lips before she spoke further. “I should introduce myself. Take her out for a drink. I’m sure she’d love to hear stories about her daddy dearest…I’m sure she’d like to know that from day one her father defended our coven as if it was his own. Went to war to protect it.” Reveca slowly adjusted the way her legs we
re crossed. “I’m sure she’d loved to hear of how her father watched a noble man fall for the same cause. Yes, I’d tell her how I was her age, young, in love, full of power…and used that power to save the very soul that understood me at my core. And her father gave one nod—one fucking nod—and that nod destroyed my love. That nod put me in prison, became a catalyst for who I am today.”
Reveca bit her lip, and waited for a response.
Jamison leaned forward, looked reverently up at Reveca. “You want to know what that nod was about?”
“No, I only asked a million times before because I was grasping for conversation starters.”
She could usually get Jamison to at least grin at her sarcasm. That amusement for her, that guilt he had for their past always helped her get what she wanted, what Saige would withhold.
His seriousness right now was twisting Reveca’s stomach.
“I surrendered.”
“Do what?” Reveca said as she drew her brow together.
His gaze danced over her confused expression before he spoke. “You may have been engaged in your own power that dawn but you felt it in the air.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “You felt a supremacy that your people had only dared to write about. It brushed against you.”
“And…”
“It was hunting me. Or so I assumed. That power was stopping your magic from taking root. Too much energy in one area.”
Jamison leaned back in his chair. “Your power was blanketing that entire field. Lorecan had to subdue you in order for that supremacy to claim what it wanted.”
“And this all mighty power, one that is greater than our people knew, made a mistake and took the wrong boy? I don’t know how long you have been cooking up that bullshit excuse but you need to go back to the kitchen.”
“In the divine plan I do not believe it was a mistake.”
“Divine plan. The Rapture you and Saige admittedly believe in. The one Lorecan forced you to believe.”
“Lorecan didn’t force us to believe anything. You did.”
Reveca felt her entire body tense.
“That’s right. He was full of predications, full of prophecy. You were the first. You walked every step he said you would, right up until this very moment.” He focused his eyes on Reveca. “I know you don’t want to believe in this Rapture and that’s fine. I didn’t either. With all I knew, all that I had seen before I landed with your family, I still could not fathom the truth of it.” He hesitated. “From the moment I became a father I wanted nothing more than to deny its existence. I can’t, Reveca. Souls are falling into place. That’s a given.”
