Unspeakable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  “Well, it’s your lucky day.”

  Time to find out what this was about. Though he could guess. “What do you want, Suzi?”

  “What do you think I want? Money of course and a lot of it. Fifty thousand in cash.”

  “Or what? What do you think you know here, Suzi?”

  “I know you were at the scene of the crime, and I’m guessing you’re connected to Forrester. If the police dig a little, they’d probably find you had a motive for him being dead.”

  Extremely unlikely; there was no link to be found between them. But it was also beside the point. Just the fact that this woman had found him meant he couldn’t ignore the threat. “How did you get this number?” he asked.

  “That would be telling.”

  He rubbed his hand across his jaw. He was going to have to find out one way or another. Which meant the easiest thing was to play along with her. Take her in and find out what she knew. He swallowed the disgust at what might be done to her, and then glanced again at the photo. Maybe he should deal with this himself. Though paying her off wasn’t the answer, either. If she demanded money once, she would no doubt come back for more. And at the back of his mind was the niggle that there was more to this than was clear.

  How the hell had she traced him?

  “You’re right,” he murmured. “There’s nothing to be found, but I don’t want the bad publicity. So how do we do this? Do I send you the money? You have an address? A PO box?” That would be easiest. He could set someone to watch and snatch her when she showed up to collect her ill-gotten gains.

  She snorted. “I don’t think so. We meet in person, in a public place. You hand over my fifty thousand, and I disappear from your life forever.”

  Of course she would. He wasn’t sure where the next words came from. “What? I don’t even get a fuck for my fifty thousand?”

  She was silent for a moment. “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” Her voice had lowered to a purr which sent fire streaking through his veins. “But I suppose fifty grand is a lot of money.”

  “Where and when?”

  “Tonight, nine o’clock. There’s a wine bar in Covent Garden called The Sparrow Falls.”

  “I’ll find it. And Suzi, this is a onetime arrangement. Keep it to yourself. If there’s anyone else at this meeting, you’ll be sorry.”

  “Ooh, I’m so scared.” She didn’t sound scared, but maybe she was too stupid to understand what she was risking. “Don’t worry, I’ll come alone. Oh, and put the money in a black bag—I don’t want it to clash with my outfit.”

  And the line went dead.

  She was clearly an amateur at the blackmail thing—she hadn’t specified note size or unmarked notes. He suspected she was working alone and had seen an opportunity to make a little cash. Maybe they could come to some arrangement. Perhaps she could come and work for him. His own personal hooker. He’d never paid for sex before, but there was a first time for everything. He glanced at the picture again—something about her drew him. Even in the dim light, she exuded a sort of arrogance, a fuck-you attitude.

  He pressed Fergus’s number. “Come in.”

  “What did you make of that?” he asked, as Fergus took the seat opposite.

  “Even if she somehow recognized you, she shouldn’t have been able to get that number.”

  “No. Which means someone gave it to her, someone who’s trying to cause trouble, but I can’t see how. What would anyone gain from getting some prostitute to blackmail me?”

  “You sure she is what she says?”

  He shrugged. Was he? “90 percent sure. The police looked into her background and it all checked out. She had ties to a minor East End criminal—a Dave Madsen, he picked them up from the police station the night Forrester was killed. But that’s all he is—a criminal. A small-time arms dealer with no ties to any gangs or groups or terrorist organizations. And certainly no ties to us.”

  “Send me the police file on the girl and this contact. I’ll check them through again. I presume you plan to pull her in.”

  “I don’t have a choice.” But he didn’t want to. He would do his best to make sure she survived, but there were no certainties in his life and collateral damage went with the territory. He’d accepted that when he came back. “We have to get to the bottom of how she found me.”

  “I’ll get a team together. We can pick her up after the drop off. We’ll take her to the Kent facility, do the interrogation there.”

  He nodded slowly. The scars on his own back tingled and itched as they did whenever he was under stress. “No permanent damage.”

  Fergus raised an eyebrow. “What do you think we are?” he asked wryly, then shrugged. “There won’t be a mark on her. I’ll make sure Bailey is available. He’s the best.”

  That would have to do.

  Chapter Five

  It was five to nine. Ethan had found the bar on the edge of Covent Garden in the less developed part of the area. From the outside, it appeared small but was actually deceptively large—a wide floor space with a, thankfully, empty stage along one side and a stainless-steel bar along the wall opposite the door. Tables were scattered around the floor and the last wall was lined with booths.

  He searched the area quickly. She wasn’t here yet, though he did recognize one of Fergus’s men sitting at a table at the edge of the room, opposite a woman he didn’t know. A new recruit? Ethan left his personal security entirely in Fergus’s hands.

  He took a stool at the bar and ordered a scotch but didn’t drink it. A sense of anticipation fizzed in his blood, the same feeling he used to get before he went into combat. He spent too long in the office these days. Maybe it was time to ask for a change in roles—get something a little more active.

  “She’s on her way in.” Fergus’s words came through his earpiece.

  Ethan glanced up at the mirror behind the bar as the door opened, and his gaze fixed on her tall, slender figure…as did every other man’s in the bar. She strolled across the room with an easy grace he was more used to from soldiers than hookers. Not that he spent much time with the latter. She’d dressed in black leather pants, skintight black knee-high boots with a four-inch heel, and a black leather biker jacket. Her blond hair was spiked, her dark brown eyes ringed with black, and her lips scarlet. She looked lean and mean and dangerous, and his dick jerked to life.

  After a quick flick around the room, her gaze settled on his figure, and he swiveled his stool to face her.

  Some emotion, recognition maybe, flashed across her face and then was gone. She smiled and waggled her fingers in his direction, then waved to one of the booths that lined the room. Coincidentally, it was the one right next to the table where his man sat.

  He hesitated for a second. Something about her tweaked a chord of memory inside him. Not anything obvious, but she reminded him of someone. Who?

  As he pushed himself to his feet, he grabbed the black leather backpack at his feet. At least he’d gotten that right—it would definitely match the outfit.

  …

  He was straight out of her dreams.

  She’d spotted his assistant loitering outside, a big fierce-looking guy who’d appear more at home in a barracks than he would in an office. She’d recognized him because she’d spent her lunchtime following him, trying to get a way in to Ethan. She’d finally hit pay dirt with the private telephone number. So she’d known Ethan was already here. All the same, she hadn’t been able to hide her shock.

  She felt so off balance, like she was on unsolid ground and it kept twisting and turning beneath her so she never got a chance to find her footing.

  I love you.

  The words whispered through her mind, and she gritted her teeth together.

  Get a fucking grip.

  Of course, he didn’t love her. He didn’t even know her. He thought she was some prostitute who was blackmailing him. And he hadn’t spent yet another night getting all sweaty and emotional between the sheets, like she’d had to endure.
>
  Fantasy and reality.

  Two different things. And it was about time she learned to differentiate.

  What was that line out of Judgment Day, her favorite movie: “The future is not set.” Well, that was her motto from now on, and she was goddamned sticking to it.

  Sadly, he was exactly her type. Long and lean, though maybe a little formally dressed for her taste. She preferred bad boys over city slickers. Though she had to admit, the silver-gray suit fit him perfectly, setting off his dark hair. The white shirt was a contrast to his olive skin. His eyes were golden, like a big cat, and she knew close up, really close up, like when he was deep inside and staring down, they would be flecked with black.

  Shut up, Sadie.

  He moved like a soldier, with a purposeful stride, his attention focused on her. They came together next to the red velvet booth. Even with her heels on, he towered over her.

  “You want a drink?” His voice was smooth, deep and familiar, and sent shivers through her.

  She forced a smile. “Hell, no. I’ll buy my own once I have my money.” She gave the bag in his hand a purposeful look, but instead of handing it over, he waved his free hand to the booth. At least he wasn’t in a hurry. Which was just as well. Her mind was a whirlpool of chaos, which meant she wasn’t picking up anything useful. And that was the whole point of this exercise after all.

  She hadn’t really made a plan above getting him here. Except the plan to play it by ear. Get close to him, get inside his head, extract anything of use, and then make a quick getaway.

  Though she suspected he meant to try and put a stop to that part. She cast a quick glance at the man at the nearby table, the one ignoring them, but who was actually employed by Ethan Weiland. How many more were there?

  “Sit for a minute?”

  She opened her mouth to ask why, then closed it again. This was what she wanted after all. Time with him, to literally pick his brains. But first, she needed to get that grip on herself before she dived in.

  Because she was scared of what she might find in there, though she had no clue why.

  She slid into the booth opposite him and licked her lips. “Perhaps I will have that drink after all. Scotch, no ice.”

  He nodded to a passing waiter and ordered two. Then he sat back and surveyed her. “So you’re a prostitute?”

  She gave a shrug. “It’s a job.”

  A small smile curled his beautiful lips. “No, it’s not. It’s an illegal enterprise.”

  “And do you always stick within the confines of the law, Mr. Weiland? I’m guessing not, otherwise you wouldn’t be willing to pay me a large amount of cash not to tell the police of your involvement with Forrester.”

  The smile broadened. “Call me Ethan and fifty thousand is hardly a large amount of cash. It’s pennies.” He sat back, stretched his arms along the back of the booth. “Maybe I wanted the excuse to see you again.”

  “Huh, you could have done that for less than fifty thousand pounds.”

  Their drinks came and they were quiet for a moment. She took a sip and eased into his mind. This wasn’t something she was used to. Jake and Kaitlin had been the strongest mind readers of their group, able to extract information from the most convoluted mind, so Sadie had rarely gone on interrogation missions.

  Now, she allowed herself a few seconds to orient herself. Jake had explained it was like a road system. You had to find the proper turnoffs and follow along until you got where you needed to be.

  She latched on to the word “Conclave” and followed it along, picking up information as she went and holding herself still so she wouldn’t give away her shock. She knew the basics of how the Conclave worked. No member ever knew anyone else but the person who had enlisted them and the one they enlisted. That was why it had taken them so long to find Forrester.

  She swallowed. That wasn’t the case for Ethan. This man in front of her knew everything. Every goddamn member of the Conclave was there, and her mind reeled at the vastness of the organization.

  And it came to her in that moment—she shouldn’t be here. This was momentous, and if she fucked it up, they would have lost the biggest lead they would ever have.

  He reached across and touched her hand. She jumped. “Sorry.”

  “You were miles away.”

  Actually, she’d been closer than he could ever have imagined. “Just thinking about what I’m going to spend my money on.”

  She dipped back in. Time to discover his plans for the night, because knowing what she did now, not for a second did she believe that he was going to let her walk away with that black bag of cash.

  She dug around a little. Got hooked on the fact that he liked her, wanted her, hadn’t wanted a woman for a long time. That it was a pity things had to happen the way they would. He didn’t want to, but he was going to let her take the money, and then his men would pick her up once she was away from here. He really did believe she was a prostitute, but that someone else was using her, controlling her. He had to take her in and find out who that person was.

  There was one thing she found odd, though—he had no knowledge of the Tribe. Nothing. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense. What did she do?

  She couldn’t risk walking away from here and having to take on three of them. She was unarmed, since she hadn’t wanted to risk carrying, in case he did a search. So chances were she would be taken and that really didn’t sound like a good option to her. She’d been trained to withstand interrogation but that didn’t mean she wanted to put that training to the test.

  “So how are you going to spend it?”

  As she came back out of his head, she found him watching her, a frown between his eyes. She tried for a natural smile. “I’m going to take a holiday, somewhere hot, and sit by a pool drinking cocktails.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Oh, it will be.” He wanted to lie by that pool with her, forget everything. It came to her that he wasn’t happy with the way things were going down tonight. In fact, he wasn’t happy with his life, full stop. A deep-rooted sense of…despair lay at the bottom of his mind. But over that, there was an inbuilt loyalty to the organization he’d been born into. The Conclave. His birthright and his curse. He’d do what was needed to be done to protect the organization. Which didn’t stop him wanting things. Like her. She licked her lips, and sensed the desire flare to life inside of him.

  Could she use that?

  Maybe but first she needed backup.

  Jake was too far away. He and Christa were off up North looking into a lead Rose had pulled, and she wasn’t strong enough to send over great distances. She had to somehow get in touch with someone else. Right now, that meant the colonel or Rose. And there was no way she was asking that fucker for help. Which left Rose.

  She pouted, stared Ethan in the eye, and gave a small smile. “Could you look after my money for just a minute longer? I need to go…” She waved a hand toward the ladies’ room.

  “Of course.”

  She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the bar, and she added a sway to her hips. His desire flared, burning hotter, and her body responded, heat flooding her system, her sex hot and heavy. She pushed the feeling down.

  She had no future with this man. And she didn’t want a future, whatever her stupid dreams showed. It was all rubbish.

  Once the door closed behind her, she pulled out her cell phone and sent a text to Rose.

  I need you right now. Covent Garden. The Sparrow Falls. How long?

  She held her breath as she waited for a reply. She was pretty sure Rose wouldn’t turn her phone off; they looked out for each other. But she might be occupied. Her breath oozed out in relief as the screen lit up.

  Fifteen minutes. What sort of trouble?

  At least three men, all armed, sort of trouble.

  Sounds like fun. We’ll be there soon.

  We?

  I’m with Dave, back of his bike.

  Sadie didn’t like this. Or maybe she didn’t want to invo
lve an outsider any more than necessary, though Dave was hardly an outsider. He was one of the few people they had revealed themselves to. Besides, without him, Rose would never make it in time to be of any help. She’d sensed Weiland’s impatience. While she might manage to string him along for another fifteen minutes, longer was doubtful.

  Okay, got to go.

  She shoved the phone into her pocket, took a deep breath, and headed back out. Ethan was standing by the booth, obviously all ready to go, the bag dangling from his fingertips.

  Fuck.

  He wanted this finished. It had to be done. No putting off unpleasant duties. They just got harder.

  He held the bag out to her.

  Think!

  He wanted her, she had to use that. She had a moment of misgiving; she really didn’t want to know what his kisses tasted like. Whether they tasted like the ones in her dreams.

  She slowed her walk, lowered her lashes, peered at him in what she hoped was a seductive manner. Trouble was, she’d never actually bothered with the whole seduction thing; she was more a do-you-fancy-a fuck sort of girl. Would that work with Weiland?

  She glanced down his tall figure, her attention snagging on his groin, which was at the forefront of his mind right now. Maybe it would work. She sensed a will of iron, but he did want her.

  As she took the bag, she reached out with her other hand and trailed a finger down his chest. His thoughts stopped.

  Good.

  Stepping closer, she shifted her touch higher, stroked the rough skin of his jaw. At the first touch of skin on skin, something twisted inside her. Some bolt of recognition that threatened to send her totally off balance. She ignored it, and bit on her lip. “You don’t want to seal the deal with a kiss?”

  He did, but he didn’t mix business with pleasure. Bugger.

  She gave a pout, stepped even closer, so the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest. “I know you want me. And you can have me. Come outside, Ethan.”