by Karin Harlow
Nikko strode to the door and put his hand over hers on the knob. “We’re not even close to being done, Selena.” Jealousy tore through him when he thought of her with Madeo. “Go fuck your Cuban. Make sure you wash his stench off before you come back downstairs. I’ll be waiting for you.”
He slammed the door shut behind him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Selena’s knees wavered beneath her. She steadied herself against the closed door. Every inch of her—body, heart, and soul—screamed for succor. Succor only Johnny could give her.
What had just happened? One minute she’d been lulling Armadeo into believing he’d get lucky, and the next minute her past in the form of Johnny Cicone came bursting into her present with a vengeance. Old wounds had been ripped open, and she was bleeding from the inside out. He still had the power to make her knees weak. Cause her heart to ache.
He looked good. Too good. The first time she laid eyes on him ten years ago, it was the sparkle in his crystal blue eyes and his easy smile that had caught her attention. If she had met him for the first time tonight, his dark, dangerous looks would have lured her. His jet-black hair, smoldering blue eyes, and sinful lips aside, it was the way he moved, arrogant, sleek, sure, pantherlike, that turned heads. There was nothing weak or unsure about the man. Everything about him was extreme.
And it was going to be extremely difficult to maintain her composure when he was near. Selena pushed her long hair from her eyes. She’d survived the past eight years because she’d had purpose, but everything was different now. Johnny knew she was alive, knew she was after the cask, and knew she had injected him with something illegal. He wasn’t going to go away until he had his answers. If he stayed, they would both be vulnerable not just to each other, but to her father. It was why she had been so cold at the end of their encounter. For her sake, but for Johnny’s, too.
Dear God, where had he come from? Whom did he work for? How had he found her? And, Dios míos, he had changed. He was not the man she had known. But did she really think he would be? Not only had what seemed like a lifetime passed, but the Rev she’d injected Johnny with had worked, and then some. If she had just met him, she’d swear he was a full-blown vampire, albeit a new one. He was having control issues. Not only had he yet to learn how to manipulate his new abilities, but the shot of Rev didn’t seem to have run its course of a few days as it did with her. Was it because her half-daemon metabolism was faster?
Rev was not created for humans. Joran had created it to revive dying vampires. In her case, it was like a prolonged shot of adrenaline with healing properties. Giving it to Johnny had saved his human life, but at what cost?
She rubbed her fingertips against her sore neck. He had broken her skin and tasted her blood while he ravaged her. Her skin warmed. She closed her eyes and recalled his touch. How she was on the verge of begging him for more. No one made her feel so alive, so wanton, so—
Her eyes flashed open. How had she allowed herself to be so vulnerable? And dear God, why?
But she already knew why. It had been the daemon part of her. Even Madeo drew a certain amount of desire from her with his touch. It was the nature of her beast. But only Johnny inflamed every inch of her. She had not been able to control it all those years ago, and she could not control it now.
It was why she had resorted to such extreme measures to drive him away from her in the first place. She didn’t have the strength to stay away from Johnny, so she had forced him to make the break. She’d made him believe she’d killed their child. Made him hate her. The primal vampire in him wanted her now, but his human hatred would keep him away from her.
It was what had saved his life long before she’d saved it in Kyrgyzstan.
She slowly pushed away from the door. If she had to do it all over again, she would. Their daughter was safe. Johnny was safe, and she had the tools and skills to destroy the being who would take it all away in a heartbeat.
Absently, Selena stroked the stones around her neck. No help there. Her response to Johnny had been instantaneous combustion. While she wanted to blame it all on her daemon half, her human female heart had broken a thousand times when she saw him. Had yearned for him. Had reveled in his passion, regardless of what drove it.
Next time she would call upon the power of the nanorians to resist him.
Next time?
She shook her head. There could be no next time. She’d be damned if she’d meet him. His threats to shut her down meant nothing. He had no idea who she was or the power she held over half of Miami’s most influential men and women. She knew their dirty little secrets, secrets they would kill to protect. If she had to, she’d use her power to keep Johnny away.
With her resolve firmly in place, Selena pulled the vestiges of her thoughts and her $2,000 Versace sheath up over her tender breasts and hurried into her private rooms to change. She had work to do, and her window of opportunity was quickly closing.
As Nikko strode down the hidden stairway, he reinserted his earpiece and mic.
“I’m wired,” he said, stepping into the club.
“Cruz!” Cassidy’s voice blared into his eardrum. “You fucking moron! What did you do?”
“Got a little payback.” Being with Selena had only whetted his appetite for more. It pissed him off, his inhuman need for her body. So did his human need for the same.
He’d known it would be painful to come face-to-face with her again. What he had not expected was the catastrophic collision of emotions, all of the love, suffering, and longing that came crashing down on his resolve, his confidence, and his heart all over again. She was alive! He still could not believe it.
But his encounter with Selena had proven fruitful by what she refused to tell him. She had vital information. He was hell-bent on getting it. By whatever means necessary.
He scanned the perimeter and caught sight of Cassidy and Cross standing one floor up. As he turned to approach them, Armadeo stepped in front of him, flanked by four of his soldiers.
Nikko slowed and gauged them. He could take them, wanted to beat the sawed-off runt of a man to a pulp. But he wasn’t going to. Regardless of who ran it, Lost Souls served an important role. It was a haven for criminals at the top of the food chain, and it was a hot spot of underground information. Hell, probably enough power and money were in the club to stage a successful coup in most countries around the world. What better place to pick brains, throw around some serious cash, and find out who had an unexpected inventory of enriched uranium?
“You will pay for what you just did with your life,” Armadeo hissed as he approached.
“That’s Armadeo Vegas, aka el carnicero,” Cassidy said in Nikko’s earpiece.
The butcher.
“Cuban kingpin Luis Fernandez’s captain and numero uno assassin. Known for his penchant for carving his victims—alive—and delivering their body parts in white butcher paper to the victim’s friends, family, and business associates.”
“Got it,” Nikko said.
Vegas’s eyes burned a preternatural red. It didn’t faze Nikko. After that encounter with Selena, nothing fazed him. He strode straight toward Vegas. “We can take this outside, señor, or if you want to ruin the lady’s reputation for running a clean club, we can take care of business right here.” Nikko stopped less than two feet from him.
Vegas twitched anxiously. He obviously wasn’t used to anyone taking up his personal space. Especially with his goons so close.
Nikko stepped closer.
“Outside,” Vegas said, striding past Nikko, slamming into his shoulder.
“We’re right behind you,” Cassidy said.
As they approached the main front doors, Selena materialized out of thin air, stopping all of them in their tracks. Nikko’s body instantly responded to her. His heightened sense of hearing picked up the quickened rush of her blood. She was just as aware of him.
Emotionally, he might despise what she had done, but as a man, he admired everything about her. He’d wreaked enou
gh havoc on her white dress that she’d changed into a black two-piece sarong number. The slinky material was nothing but a thin haze of gossamer. The way it shadowed her curves and valleys played with a man’s imagination. One thing he didn’t imagine was her nipples puckering under his heated gaze.
“Madeo,” she purred, slipping between Nikko and the gangster. Her exotic, spicy scent wafted across Nikko’s nostrils. He fisted his hands, forcing the heat in his blood to cool. “My apologies for deserting you, but I had urgent business to attend to. Now,” she seductively said, leaning into him, “I am all yours.” As she rubbed against the man, Selena deliberately locked gazes with Nikko, the taunt in her eyes clear. She took Madeo’s hand and placed it around her waist. “Let’s make this a private party.”
Madeo yanked her possessively to him. “Don’t make me wait again.”
“Oh,” she huskily purred, “I won’t.”
Heat spread like wildfire through every cell in Nikko’s body. The urge to rip her out of the man’s arms was so overwhelming, his muscles hurt.
He shouldn’t care that another man touched her. She was dead to him. Yet the sight of Vegas’s hand on the small of her back disturbed him viscerally. He took a step toward them.
Selena swept past Nikko and Vegas’s goons to a set of brass elevator doors. The same type of brass doors that opened to the anteroom to her office. The doors opened and closed behind Selena and Madeo.
Nikko headed for the hidden stairway leading to Selena’s office.
“Nikko?” Cassidy’s voice called over the mic. “You okay?”
The compassion in her voice stopped him. “I’m fine. Behind the DJ’s booth is a door that leads to a hidden stairway, which leads to the third-floor office. That’s where she’s headed. Stand by,” Nikko said into his mic. “I’m going to play a fly on the wall.”
As the elevator door closed behind them, Vegas grabbed Selena and whirled her around. Under any other circumstances, she would break a man’s arm for touching her so rudely. She curbed her instinct to put him in his place. The assassin was too valuable to her to allow pride to interfere.
Selena threw her head back and laughed seductively, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the back of the elevator. “Are you jealous, Madeo?”
He scowled, and her laugh deepened.
“I like my men jealous.”
Vegas maneuvered her into the corner of the elevator and braced his hands on the wall on either side of her head. “You push me to my limit, tentadora.”
Selena was an expert when it came to letting a man think he had control of her. She smiled seductively at his tense face, running her hands up his chest. His body stiffened. The elevator doors opened. “Vamos, señor.”
She slid her hand into his and led him into the anteroom outside her office and private rooms. The large, octagonal room was soundproof, the smooth granite floors easy to clean. Tucked safely in a hidden sheath in the wall to her right were her swords. Tonight would not be the first time she had used the anteroom as her kill room. It would be the first time she extracted a nanorian here.
Armadeo’s heart rate had climbed with his excitement. With it, she got her first whiff of Hellkeeper. She turned and smiled alluringly as she backed toward her swords. “What would you like me to do to you?”
The Hellkeeper stench intensified. She could feel sorry for Madeo, being possessed and not knowing it, if he were not as twisted as the daemon who drove him. “The question is not what you can do to me, Selena,” Vegas purred as he slowly stalked her, “but what do I plan to do to you.”
Ah, another sadistic bastard. Why wasn’t she surprised? Vegas was among the worst of the worst. His kind fed on the pain he inflicted on others. It was why she had not initially been able to detect the stench of the Hellkeeper reigning supreme inside him. The two were so much alike their odors blended, but tonight the Hellkeeper was in full control and his stench now permeated the room.
Selena reached behind to the small of her back and withdrew a black-pearl-handled switchblade from its satin sheath. “Let me guess …?” she said, showing him what she held. She pressed the small switch, and the six-inch blade flicked open with a warning click.
“Yesssss,” Vegas said, slowing his approach. His excitement was evident in the glassy shine of his eyes, and the sheen of sweat that broke out across his upper lip. His burgeoning erection was hard to miss. He slid his hand behind him and slowly withdrew an impressive butcher’s knife.
Selena’s blood warmed. “Ah, just like the Boy Scouts, you’re always prepared.” She flipped the blade in her hand over and caught it by its razor-sharp tip. “I was a stellar Girl Scout.”
Nikko watched, fascinated, from his vantage point behind the door he’d cracked open at the top of the stairway. What the hell was Selena doing? Playing a deadly game of chicken? He watched her move around Vegas with the grace of a ninja. He ignored his initial instinct to protect her when Vegas pulled his blade. Something in the way Selena held herself, the way she handled the switchblade, held him back. Lightning quick, she stabbed the thug in the thigh.
Nikko flinched, her strike surprising him.
Vegas grunted, taking a swipe at her but missing by a foot. She was already on the other side of the room. Circling … With panther grace, she stepped around Vegas, taunting him with words. She stuck him again. Vegas swiped at her in a wide arc. Selena jumped back as his blade barely missed slicing her belly open.
“Close, señor, but not”—she lunged, jabbing him in the arm that held the knife, and withdrew—“close enough.” Vegas’s eyes turned murderous red. He was bleeding from three different wounds.
Transfixed by what was playing out before him, Nikko realized his jaw hung open. Cassidy and Cross needed in on this, but he knew if he uttered a single word, Selena would know she had an audience. It would throw her off-balance—potentially get her hurt. Nikko shook his head in silent awe. Vegas was in big trouble.
“Punta! I’m bleeding to death!” Enraged, Vegas lunged at Selena, his blade finding flesh this time. He got her on the waist. She turned with a roundhouse kick, sending him sprawling on his back. She jabbed him in the thigh. Higher this time and deeper than the first strike.
The assassin bellowed in pain.
“Cruz,” Cassidy’s voice called in his earpiece, “what the hell was that?”
Nikko couldn’t respond, so gingerly he tapped out in Morse code on his mic to stand by and listen to what was going down.
“Copy,” Cassidy whispered.
“Oh, c’mon, Madeo, I just nicked your femoral artery.” Selena tossed the bloody knife in her hand, expertly catching it by the handle. “I could have severed it.”
Vegas dropped his knife and grabbed at his thigh, frantically trying to stem the steady blood flow.
“Relaaax,” she crooned, “you have some time. Instead of five minutes to bleed out, I’d say you have a good ten or fifteen.”
“Punta!” he hissed.
“I can save you, Madeo. But it will cost you.”
He glared at her. “What do you want?” His voice had deepened.
The hair on the back of Nikko’s neck stood straight up. What the hell was that?
Selena continued to walk slowly around Vegas, taking her time, making him squirm. “Actually, I don’t want anything from you, I just want that dirty Hellkeeper hiding inside of you to come out and play.”
Madeo’s skin blanched white. He dropped to his knees, slipping in the pooling blood at his feet. “What?” he gasped.
“You’re possessed, Madeo,” she explained matter-of-factly. “The only way to unpossess you is for the daemon who is too cowardly to show himself to leave your human body. Because if you bleed out, your imminent death will force his hand. You die, he dies. Unless—”
“You would challenge Hell!” a voice blasted from Vegas, the force of the breath so harsh Selena’s hair flew backward and the door Nikko hid behind slammed shut.
What the Hell is that? What is a Hellkee
per? Can Selena handle it? Confused and a little intimidated by what he did not understand, Nikko carefully opened the door. The scent of sulfur permeated the air. Nikko covered his nose, it was so repulsive. His eyes, though, were riveted on Selena.
The woman had balls. She didn’t appear fazed in the least by this new threat. She moved behind Vegas, grabbed a hank of his hair, pulled his head back, and stuck him in the neck.
He screamed, trying to twist out of her grip. She dropped him as if he were on fire and nimbly stepped back. The screams morphed into deep demonic growls.
“I challenge Hell, Malphas. Now, I challenge you to show yourself,” Selena said as she continued to move around Vegas.
Nikko’s heart beat like a drum in his chest. What the hell was going on here? Daemons, Hellkeepers. Selena challenging one to a fight? What the fuck? Nikko tapped on his mic.
“Welcome to my world, Cruz,” Cross softly said in Nikko’s earpiece. “Hellkeepers are powerful daemons who possess potent magic. From what I’ve just heard, I suspect your Selena is the rogue daemon hunter the Order has put a sizable bounty on.”
Fuck, Nikko silently mouthed, not fully comprehending what Cross’s words meant.
Vegas collapsed onto the floor, the pool of blood widening around him.
“You would take a human life to draw me out?!” the daemon voice blasted.
Selena shrugged. “It won’t be the first time. Besides, it’s not much of a human life.”
Her calm demeanor amazed Nikko. He suspected when that thing came out, it was going to be nasty and she’d need help.
“Selena!” Vegas cried, dragging himself toward her. His hands reached toward her, his bloody fingers scraping her toes. “Save me! I will give you anything!”
She contemplated him for a long moment, and with each heartbeat more blood pooled on the floor. “You have nothing worth saving, Vegas.”
“You will burn in the fifth Hell for this!” the Hellkeeper roared.
“I doubt it,” Selena calmly said. “Show yourself, Malphas. You have something I want.”
