Gage didn’t pull away as I did, no, instead he left his hands on my legs, continuing to caress in some erotic hot-nurse scenario, now a threesome. The heat rose from between my legs to my cheeks.
“Niki, this is Celeste Russo, former spec ops Marine, current receptionist and office manager of Steele Shadows.”
Eyeing me like a stray dog, Celeste sauntered over, every inch of her letting me know that I was in her territory.
“This is the chick who got herself lost in our woods?” She asked Gage, ignoring me.
My brow cocked. I swatted Gage’s hands away, then fired back. “That’s right. I decided to get myself lost right after I dropped off that T-shirt at the second-hand store.”
The black Raven’s eyes popped, followed by an ear-to-ear grin. I didn’t blink, unwilling to back down from the ‘former spec ops Marine’.
With a gleam in her eye, she turned back to Gage. “Well, alrighty, then. If there’s any more like this in the woods, maybe we can hire them to look after Remy.”
Gage grinned.
Then, she looked at me, her expression softer. “Welcome, and…” Her face dropped to serious. “Nice aim.” A quick nod, a nonverbal, you-did-what-you-had-to-do.
I nodded back, and decided that I liked this brick-balled badass. And also wondered how many men she’d killed.
“You’ll have to excuse Celeste. She needs to work on her people skills.”
“Good thing that isn’t a very important quality for a receptionist.”
This quip earned me chuckles from both.
Celeste shifted her attention to Gage, who had moved onto dabbing my feet with ointment before wrapping them up. “I just spoke with Jagg.” She said. “He’s not going to be able to come by tonight. Something about thirty pounds of cocaine and prostitutes’ vaginas.”
“Sounds like an interesting search and seize.”
“Exactly. He wanted me to tell you he’s sorry you couldn’t make it.”
Gage smirked and glanced at me. A ladies’ man, then. Not that I was surprised.
“Anyway, he said he’ll come by tomorrow. Everyone’s down at the scene now.” She turned to me and said matter-of-factly, “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be taken care of. Anything you need, you let us know.” She nodded to Gage. “Well, these bastards might not be too much help, but I can help you with anything… you know, girly things you might need.”
“Gross,” Gage muttered.
“Not everything girly is tampons and anti-itch cream, Gage.”
“Anti-itch cream? Must be talking about Gage’s latest date.” A tall, beefed-up guy breezed into the kitchen, his dark, mussed hair curling out from under his baseball cap, his sun-kissed skin a flawless tan. He wore ripped jeans, a Steele Shadows hoodie, and ATAC boots. “You know, that one with the massive—” He stopped cold and zeroed in on me, my legs dangling in the kitchen sink.
“Whoops, sorry.” An easy smile flashed across his face, perfect teeth and a bad boy twinkle in his eye that I had no doubt many women had fallen to their knees over. “I’m Wolf,” he said. “Head of security. You must be our guest of the evening, Niki.”
“News travels almost as fast as that report I asked you to get me.” Gage’s eyebrows raised.
“Sorry…” Wolf sauntered into the room with an ease that suggested—again—that I hadn’t been the only woman to show up at the front door. Cop cars out front, bloody legs in the kitchen sink… just another day at the park for the guy they called Wolf.
“…the game, you know. Overtime.” He yanked a beer from the fridge, his indifference to me oddly soothing at that moment. I liked him.
“Yeah, you owe me a thousand bucks, Wolf.”
“You owe me a new truck, Gage.”
“Call it even.”
Wolf snorted, sipped, then flickered a glance at me before saying, “Hear we got a headless body on the road.” He focused on me. “Ian Lee. Nice work.”
“Wolf, come on, sheesh…” Shaking her head, Celeste gave me a grim look. “You’ll have to excuse Wolf. He also needs to work on his people skills… and gambling apparently.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Wolf set down his beer and turned fully to me, tipping an imaginary hat and unfurling his hand as one would The Queen. “Miss Niki Avery, my name is Sir Wolfgang Blackwood,” he said with an overly-emphasized English accent. “An unfortunate name given to me by my parents, who were both drunk at the time of my birth. While most men would shrink at the nicknames I’ve been called, I, Miss Avery embrace it, because, you see, in my pants lies a six-foot—”
“Oh my God, Wolf. Enough.” Celeste shooed him away from the counter.
Gage grinned and shook his head at this.
Laughing, Wolf stepped back. “Come on. Just trying to lighten the mood. Get this girl cleaned up, will ya?” Celeste and Gage rolled their eyes. He continued the one-man play, “By the way, Dallas is going to flip when she sees the trail of mud in the entryway. Who the hell came through the house? A pack of Clydesdales?”
Celeste frowned. “Yeah, I saw that. Why didn’t you have everyone come in through the garage? You know how she gets.”
“That’d be Haddix. Must’ve left it along with the trail of testosterone he’s got coming out his pores.”
“What’d he do? Spend his evening in a mud pit? Dallas is not gonna be happy; just sayin’.” Wolf swigged his beer.
Gage shrugged. “Where you been, anyway?”
“In my office.”
Celeste looked at me. “By office he means our command center, on the top level. We’ll show it to you while you’re here; pretty cool. Wolf lives in a small cabin just off the land but is always here.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t like it. And my command center will be much cooler as soon as your boy here approves the new cameras I want to get.”
“Approved.” Gage said. “Use the one-K you owe me. What’s got you working so late tonight?”
Wolf glanced out the window for a moment before saying, “Working on something for Feen.”
“What?” Celeste frowned.
“Oh, you know Feen, always up to something.”
I glanced at Gage, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.
“Guy needs a girlfriend,” Celeste grumbled.
Wolf wiggled his eyebrows at me.
Gage’s grip tightened on my knee, earning a cocked brow from Celeste.
“Alright,” he said quickly, changing the subject. “Um, let’s head down to the scene and see if they need anything.”
I caught the side-eye from Celeste, and looked down. Gage’s abrupt switch of conversation was as subtle as an earthquake, and Celeste didn’t miss much.
Gage yanked a towel from below the sink and handed it to me. “I’ll be back. Lieutenant Colson is going to want to interview you again. You up for that?”
“Yes, of course.”
He shifted his attention to Celeste. “You two girls do whatever girly things you need to do.”
“Itch-cream is in Gage’s room next to the condoms and anal beads,” Wolf needled.
“Ah, that reminds me, I meant to give those back to you,” Gage grinned, then turned and strode across the room, Wolf on his heels.
Celeste called out after him. “Gage?”
“Yeah?” He responded, keeping his pace and without so much of a glance over his shoulder.
“She’ll be in Cabin 1…”
He wagged his index finger in the air as he nodded, before disappearing around the corner.
I looked at Celeste.
What the hell was Cabin 1?
9
Gage
“I’ll be outside in a minute.”
Focused only on the text message he was sending, Wolf nodded and pushed out the back door. Frowning, I turned and followed the hushed voices coming from the staff kitchen—a small kitchen just past the main one. A ridiculous addition to the house, but one that Dad had said was necessary for resale value. Whatever.
/> It was past midnight at that point and all the insomniacs were down at the scene. Who was up for a late-night snack? More importantly, had they seen anything that could help piece together the evening’s events? Or, as Feen would ask, did they know anything?
I paused at the doorway, straining to listen to what sounded like an argument. My mind raced putting together the list of staff we’d had working that day, followed by self-disgust when I couldn’t name them all. Dad knew everyone by first and last name, and every detail of their immediate family. Feen did too, for that matter.
What the hell was wrong with me? When did I get so self-absorbed?
Repulsed at myself, I stepped out of the shadows and into the kitchen.
My eyebrows popped.
Wearing one of her usual paisley print muu-muu dresses, our head housekeeper, Opal Mallick, stood with her arms crossed over her voluptuous chest decorated in a dozen beaded necklaces, her grey dreadlocks pulled back at the sides with glittered ribbons. She also wore one hell of a pissed-off expression on her face. Her gaze immediately shifted to me, her eyes widening. In front of her stood none other than Remy Cotter, our retired naval client, wearing nothing but a stripped pair of pajamas and slippers. Following her gaze, Remy turned, his face flushed, his eyes hard.
“Mr. Steele,” Opal quickly stepped back. “Can I get you something?”
Keeping my eyes locked on Remy, I crossed the small room. “Everything alright, Mr. Cotter?”
His gaze flickered to Opal. “Yes, just came out to see what all the commotion was about.”
“Ax mentioned you’d fallen asleep hours ago.”
“Well, I woke up. Heard car doors slammin’ and came outside to make sure no one was lurking around my cabin.”
“Mr. Cotter—”
“Remy, Gage, shit, I’ve told you a hundred times.”
“Remy, sorry. Remy, Dr. Murray said it’s best to stay inside until your medicine gets ironed out.”
“Well maybe if you’d give me back the gun you confiscated from my bag when you booked me, I wouldn’t feel like I needed to investigate noises outside my cabin.”
I glanced at Opal, who’d slid her red-rimmed glasses to the tip of her nose, her eyes darting between the two of us.
“Let’s get you something to drink, and I’ll have Ax take you back to your cabin.”
“I don’t need Ax to take me anywhere, Gage.”
“I know you don’t, but Remy, as long as you’re here, you’ll mind our rules. No one on the ground after sundown without an escort. Understand?”
He grumbled something that involved me falling off a tall cliff.
I pulled my phone and texted Ax, then put my hand on Remy’s shoulder. “Take a seat in the library, Remy. Opal will bring you some tea, and Ax’ll be up in a second.”
“Fine.”
I waited until Remy disappeared into the library before turning back to Opal, who had already put water on to boil.
“What was that about?”
She shook her head, pulling a tea cup from the cupboard. “Grab a paper towel, will you? He was pestering me about getting his gun for him. Wants it in his cabin. Crazy old bat, he is.”
“Well, he can’t have his gun while he’s here, and that’s that.” I ripped a paper towel from a hook just above a bubbling tub of water in the sink. “What’re you bleaching in here?”
The tea cup slipped from her hands, shattering on the stone floor.
“Oh… no.” She shook her head and started to squat.
“No, Opal, I’ve got it.” I swooped down and picked up the glass, eyeing her. “You okay?”
“Yeah… yes, sorry.” She was flushed, embarrassed, perhaps. “Remy got me all worked up is all. Sorry.” She glanced at the sink. “And I’m just doing the monthly deep clean of utensils. Sorry about the cup.” She wrung her hands together, the dozens of gold bracelets clanking against the silence. Apparently, everyone was on edge, and that was a look I hadn’t seen too many times on our head housekeeper.
Dad had hired Opal to help with the household not long after losing mom. They’d met on a street corner where Opal was selling paintings and psychic readings. For ten dollars, she’d tell you your fortune and sketch your profile. At sixty-one years old, Opal was a self-proclaimed hippie and ran the house, and the staff, with an iron fist and dry wit to match. I’d always liked her. Dallas, on the other hand, had not. It was rumored that Dallas didn’t appreciate the fact that Opal lived in the basement, which had been renovated to her specifications—lots of windows, and lots of dark colors. A contrast that was Opal. A presence that Dallas didn’t care for.
Opal grabbed one of the crystals dangling around her neck, worry squeezing her bushy eyebrows. “I was in my room and saw Remy coming up the back path on his golf cart. Coaxed him inside for some tea until I could wrangle you boys to deal with him… but it looked like you’ve had your hands full tonight.” She poured boiling water into a new cup and dipped a tea bag. Steam swirled up from the edges, concern shined in her eyes. “What’s going on with the cops out front, dear?”
“A little incident in the woods.”
“A very pretty incident.”
I glanced down.
“Well, I know you boys will take good care of her. I’ll get this tea to Remy.”
“Opal, do you know if anyone left the grounds tonight? Did you, by chance?”
She frowned. “I didn’t. Was down at the stables for a while before heading back to the basement. And no, I’m not sure about anyone else. I can ask around if you’d like?”
“Please, and would you mind sending me a list of everyone’s schedule this week? Especially who worked today?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, Opal.”
As I made my way out the kitchen, my gaze locked on the carving knife soaking in the sink.
10
Niki
Two hours of more interviews, and one horrifying trip back to the scene later, I was guided out the back door by Gage while his brothers and Celeste congregated in the kitchen for one last night cap.
The night had cooled, dipping into the fifties, a prequel to the winter to come. The seasons were changing.
Fitting; my life was changing.
Gage led me down a small pebble rock way, lined with decorative lights. Last I’d looked it was close to one in the morning. It felt like I’d been up for weeks.
A cloud drifted, the silver glow of the moon washing over the mountains in the distance. The night was still, haunting, as if all its creatures sensed the evil that had taken place hours earlier.
I was exhausted, mentally and physically, in pain, and compounding that volatile state was the fact that I’d agreed to stay overnight at the compound in the care of Steele Shadows Security. Gage, specifically, according to Celeste.
I had no choice, really. My Jeep had been confiscated, towed out and scheduled to be sent to a forensics lab first thing in the morning to be scanned for DNA or trace evidence. I had no phone to call whatever surface-level friends I had and ask for a ride and a place to stay, and even if I did, the thought of retelling the story one more time made my stomach sour.
Perhaps the most unnerving thought of all… was wondering if whoever tried to kill me was still looking for me?
A brief look through Ian Lee’s social media didn’t provide many clues, other than the fact that he was a socialist bigot who didn’t believe in conformity. A grand total of six posts and only a handful of followers didn’t amount to many leads to chase.
Ian Lee was a twenty-four year old Berry Springs native who worked construction, when he wasn’t serving jail time for one of his many misdemeanors. I’d never seen the man before in my life, but when they’d pulled up his social media account, I’d almost thrown up on their company-issued shoes.
No matter what Ian had done to me, no matter what he’d planned to do to me, nothing seemed to justify the ending of the man’s life who grinned into the camera holding a can of Budweiser.
A grin no more.
And I did that.
Then, someone else decapitated the guy.
Lieutenant Colson had promised to push a warrant for Ian’s phone records, but that could take days. They’d promised to talk to his friends first thing in the morning, but considering most of them also had rap sheets, the odds of them opening up were slim to none.
As the night dragged on, it was obvious Officer Haddix considered my attack a random act of violence—one that happened all too often. But who the hell carved the guy after the fact? And, why? According to Lieutenant Colson, the man who chased me into the woods would possibly try to find me again. Kill me, was what he meant. The agreed assumption was that the guy was concerned that—considering I’d survived—I’d be able to ID him. He’d either chased me through the woods for that reason, or revenge for his fat friend. I didn’t necessarily agree or disagree, I just wanted the son of a bitch caught and brought to justice so I could move on with whatever pieces were left of my life.
One thing that was apparent to everyone, though, was that my attackers had never intended me to leave that ditch alive. Bottom line was that Ian’s buddy—whoever he was—wanted me dead, and that posed a problem for me to go on with “life as usual,” for the time being.
I didn’t blame him for wanting me dead. Because once I got my bearings—once I got a minute to breathe—I was going to come after him. I was going to do my own investigating and find the bastard. He was not going to get away with ruining my life, or another woman’s for that matter.
Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow I’d head home, re-evaluate, assess, and tackle the new day.
Right then, I needed a second. Just a second, to… be.
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