by A. C. Arthur
“What do you think he knows, other than who’s running the cartel?” Bas asked, bringing his attention back to the conversation at hand.
“Raul Cortez is running the cartel now. My questions are about Julio, the father.”
“He’s in a mental institution now, isn’t he?” Bas asked.
“A nursing home,” X corrected him, a sarcastic note to his tone. “He’s apparently too fragile to talk. But I think somebody’s just keeping a clamp on what he’s got to say. Hernandez was his right-hand man. Seems logical he’d know whatever Julio knows.”
Bas looked skeptical. “I don’t know, man. These families are known for keeping their secrets. Hernandez isn’t even Julio’s blood, just an employee. Even if he knows something, how is that going to help us?”
X hadn’t gone into details with Bas about Rome’s and Nick’s parents and the possibility that they’d been in cahoots with the infamous drug cartel. What Rome and Nick suspected would be considered nothing less than treason by the Assembly. What that meant for the work they’d both done in advancing the stateside shifters, X had no clue. What he did know for sure was that his brothers needed closure: They needed to know if the men who had raised them had been loyal or not. That was a word X hadn’t known until he’d met Rome and Nick. His parents hadn’t known what it meant and thus couldn’t have taught their only son. Closure wasn’t on the horizon for X, and that was just fine. He’d rather hate the ones who enabled that limp-dick bastard Jeremiah to torture him than think any rational thoughts where they were concerned. He didn’t even think of them by their names, they were such a distant and disgusting part of his life.
That’s what separated him from Rome and Nick. Their parents were important to them; they loved and respected them. Finding out their fathers may not have been all that they believed would be devastating. X wanted to be the one to find out the truth and to break whatever he had to them. As close as all the FLs were, they were no match for the threesome that had begun more than two decades ago.
“Look, I just need about an hour alone with him.” X was about to address the quizzical look in Bas’s eyes when something stopped him.
He stared inside the suite to the living room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Without another word he was heading inside, finding his way back to the bedroom where Caprise was sitting on the bed, her fingers massaging her temples as she rocked back and forth.
“What’s the matter? What happened?” he asked immediately, knowing there was something wrong.
From the look she had when she lifted her face to his, she wasn’t about to tell him.
“I’m not going to play this game with you, Caprise. I know something’s going on with you.”
She stood then, slow, graceful. Her arms fell to her sides as she kept his gaze. “You just know everything, don’t you? All of you.” Her gaze traveled over his shoulder to the doorway where X figured Bas was probably standing. “You think you know everything, can fix anything. Well, you can’t! Nobody can!” she yelled before pushing past X and heading to the bathroom, where he knew she’d locked the door tight behind her.
“Relationship problems?” Bas asked.
X whirled around to find the shifter leaning against the doorjamb staring at him with that ridiculous smirk he wore more often than not. “Shut up.”
Bas’s response was a roar of laughter as X cursed.
* * *
Hernandez hadn’t had much to say, which X totally expected. What had come as a shock was how frail the man looked—how being out of the spotlight, away from his job and people he most likely considered family, had affected him. He was a fifty-eight-year-old Latino with golden skin that hung on his bones like old leather. Deep-set dark eyes had watched X from the moment he entered the room until he sat down across from him. He’d kept his back straight and shoulders squared like a good soldier, his hands folded on the metal table.
“Have you ever heard the name Loren Reynolds?” X had asked immediately.
His reply was a shake of the head.
“How about Henrique Delgado?”
Another shake of the head.
“Julio Cortez knew both these men. He talked to them almost daily for two years, had meetings with them, even met up with them a couple of times in Brazil. You don’t know anything about that?”
He did not shake his head this time, which was a good thing. X was still irritated by Caprise’s mood; add that to the fact that he swore he was being followed or watched, or both, and that put him in a pretty foul mood. Another mute-like response and he was bound to reach out and touch the guy.
“Who is Julio Cortez?” Hernandez asked, a slow grin forming across his face.
X sat back in his chair and watched the man carefully. He had no doubt Hernandez had heard of Loren and Henrique. He’d even bet his life the men had all met together. Julio would not have acted alone; he would have needed backup. Hernandez was his lieutenant, aka his backup.
“It’s getting late,” X started. “And I’ve been traveling a long time. So here’s what I’m going to do. And I want you to understand that I’m being very generous here.” He leaned over, resting his elbows on the table as he got closer to Hernandez.
“I’m not generous often so if I were you I’d take advantage of this offer.” There was nothing peaceful about X’s way of dealing with suspects. Ever.
Rome was the peacekeeper, the negotiator. Nick was the act-now-figure-things-out-later type. And X, he was brute force walking. So when he stood Hernandez should have known to fear for his life. Yet the cocky SOB kept glaring at X as if he were holding all the cards. Wrong.
X lifted one booted foot and pushed the edge of the table until it forced Hernandez back, his chair flipping over. The other side of the table’s edge now leveled over the man’s neck—he hadn’t been quick enough to roll beneath the table when his chair made an abrupt exit from beneath him. He was trapped, his dark eyes bulging as he coughed.
“I’ve got a pretty little chica named Marianna sitting tight back in DC. She’s got the cutest dimples and a body most men dream of,” X said. He smiled down at the asshole, but it wasn’t a good smile. Not in the least.
Hernandez’s beady little eyes perked up. His hands flailed beneath the table as he reached for its edge to attempt to push it away. X only gave him the tiniest bit of space just in case he needed his throat dislodged so he could speak.
“Now I’m gonna go and have me some dinner. You think about those questions and see if you can come up with an answer.”
For good measure he pushed the table against Hernandez’s throat one more time before pulling back. The table rocked to the floor and hit with a loud bang. Hernandez did have the good sense to roll over then, falling to his stomach on the floor as he gasped for air. X started for the door, then turned back, glaring at Hernandez.
“Try not to think about Marianna and all she’s got to offer a man. Especially one who has her locked in his bedroom.”
Hernandez came to his knees, one arm extended as he pointed to X.
“¡Bastardo! ¡Te voy a matar si le toca!” he yelled.
“You’re in no position to threaten me, Hernandez,” X told him, a growl brewing in his chest as his beast prepared for battle. “I’ll be back in the morning. Think about my answers or kiss your daughter good-bye. How’s that for a threat?”
He left then to the sound of Hernandez yelling in Spanish, louder and more fluently. X chuckled as he moved down the long hallway, shiny steel walls on both sides of him. There was no danger from Hernandez or his threats. The man was locked down deep beneath the earth. He couldn’t even imagine daylight, let alone get the opportunity to see it, or to contact one of his henchman to follow through on the threat. No, Hernandez was locked down tight and X’s threat regarding his daughter was the bait that would have the man singing everything he knew come morning. Hell, he could even sing it in Spanish for all X cared, as long as he gave him the information he wanted.
* * *
Half an hour later X was doing something he’d never in all his years thought he would do. He was preparing to have dinner with a woman.
Not just the sit-down-and-eat type of stunt. But a real, live, I-talk-you-talk sort of gathering. The reason—Caprise had something on her mind and X was willing to bet everything he had that something was related to the phone calls she was getting—the phone calls that had him outraged.
What X knew about women was mostly between their legs, or on their chests, or their backsides, or … bottom line, he wasn’t real good with actually trying to relate to them. And if he were being totally honest with himself he’d have to ask over and over again, why Caprise? She was stubborn, contrary, moody, bitchy, and usually just a pain in the ass to be around. On the other hand, X vaguely remembered her as an intelligent and vivacious teenager. And presently, she was his best friend’s sister and for the moment, his lover. The fact that he actually cared about her well-being was an added bonus. Finally, she was a female. If there was one thing Shadow Shifters did with all their power and without reservation, it was protect their females.
So he was going to try to get on even ground with Caprise, to calm some of the hostility always brewing between them and talk to her reasonably. And if that didn’t work, he was putting her over his knee and paddling her ass until she told him what he wanted to know. The latter thought had his dick hardening as he entered the suite they shared.
X didn’t see her when he first entered. That was a good thing, since his arousal wasn’t easily hidden; his length rested against his thigh masked only by jeans that weren’t the loose-fitting kind. He carried the box of food the woman Jewel had helped him with. She was a timid sort of woman, such a startling contrast with Caprise, but she was very helpful. X figured Bas had assigned the woman to take care of whatever they needed while they were here.
He went into the kitchen and saw the small table with its four chairs. There was a full-size refrigerator, an electric stove, sink, and dishwasher. Unfortunately the space wasn’t huge … and X was. Or rather he felt like he was when his leg hit the back of a chair then, as soon as he turned, he backed into the sink. Cursing, he figured eating in here would be just as uncomfortable. While Caprise was what he considered a little too thin—except for her bountiful breasts—she was tall, at least five-eight or -nine. Both of them in here together would not be cute, or safe for that matter.
He went back out to the living room and stood there, box of food in both hands. He turned and looked at the couch, the coffee table, the lounging chair. Then he turned in the other direction and looked at the fireplace. They could picnic on the floor. X groaned. This was taking much more thought than he’d anticipated.
“What are you doing?” she asked. X nearly jumped out of his skin because he hadn’t heard her approach.
He cursed. Then looked at her and seemed to lose all words, even the bad ones.
It was already after eight in the evening. The sun had set, leaving the sky a brilliant indigo hue that gave an eerie sort of feel to the rocky resort. But none of that was what gave X pause. It was her, the woman he’d been trying to set up this meal for, to talk to, to get answers from. She was the one that had him swallowing hard.
“Do you need help?” she asked, taking a step toward him.
“Dinner,” he said and clamped his lips shut tightly. “I brought dinner.”
He’d seen women wearing much less—hell he’d seen her completely naked, so this shouldn’t have affected him this way. She wore a black nightgown. Actually, it looked like someone had spilled black ink over her, the silky material fit her so snugly. When she walked, one long leg slipped through a split that should have been illegal. There was no way in hell she was wearing anything beneath that getup.
“You want me to take the box?”
He shook his head, reaching once again for his control—the control that only seemed to slip when Caprise was involved. “No. Just trying to figure out where we should eat.”
“Come on in here. I’ve already made myself comfortable,” she said, turning to lead him back toward the bedroom.
Here was the thing about Caprise: Even without trying—which he was fairly certain she wasn’t doing right now—she was too fucking sexy. Her hair was pulled in a high ponytail, she had no shoes on, and there was no makeup on her face. She was probably getting ready for bed, not sex.
Yet all X could think of as he watched her walking in front of him was holding on to her thin hips, and thrusting deep between the delectable globes of her ass.
She’d climbed onto the bed. The nightgown rose up her thighs unapologetically as she crossed her legs then looked up at him expectantly. “What do you have?”
“Ah.” He floundered for a second, his cat scratching at the surface, itching for release. “I don’t know. I just told Jewel we needed food. Figured you weren’t in the mood to go out.”
Caprise shrugged as she reached for the box he lowered to the bed. “I just might be getting used to being locked up all the time.”
“I doubt that,” X said, sensing the reason she’d stayed in the room had to do with those calls and text messages she was receiving, and not any real attempt at being obedient.
Kicking off his shoes, he joined her on the bed and accepted a container she offered him. He opened it and frowned.
She laughed and his head jerked up. Her smile was genuine, her eyes alight with humor.
“I take it you don’t like that,” she commented.
“It’s got something green in it,” he said, still frowning.
She leaned in to take a look. “I think that’s spinach.”
X shook his head. “Stuff is only good if your name’s Popeye. I’ll pass.”
She was laughing again as she reached into the box. “You mean your mother never made you eat your veggies? Such a brat you are.”
X didn’t say that his mother never made him do anything, other than visit their neighbor. Inside, his cat roared at that thought, and X shut it out. Something he’d been used to doing for a very long time.
“Is there a sandwich in there?” he asked, knowing there was because he’d specifically asked Jewel for one.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll hit all the basic food groups with this one,” she said, tossing it to him.
Her mood seemed to have shifted, which for Caprise happened frequently. When he’d left her before she’d been angry—no, that wasn’t accurate, she’d been upset. The fact that he’d asked what was going on had pissed her off, but that was just a cover-up. Now she would be cheery, or as cheery as Caprise could be, and keep talking as if nothing had ever happened. That’s how she’d been when she’d shown up just as the jet was about to take off. She’d bolted out of the SUV Seth drove, marched right across the tarmac, and started up the steps to the jet without so much as looking at him. Once she was seated she’d begun talking about Arizona and how she’d visited here before and was looking forward to the return. Not once did she mention the phone call he’d answered back at Havenway or who had been calling her.
X figured it was a good sign that they’d apparently reached some type of truce. Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t going to stop him from trying to find out who was taunting her and why.
Chapter 14
“So where did you go when you left DC?” X asked.
They were lying on the bed, both of them with fluffy pillows stacked behind their heads. He could stretch his arm out between them and wouldn’t touch her. Still, the warmth of her presence engulfed the room, the sound of her breathing echoed in his ears, and her scent—a mixture of flowers and a fresh breeze that reminded him of summer—tickled his nostrils.
“I went away” was her quick reply.
“Caprise.”
“Don’t do that,” she said with a huff. “Don’t say my name like you’re ready to discipline me for not answering every one of your questions, when you do the same thing all the time.”
“Okay, where did you go away to?”
>
She stared at him, wondering just how long it had taken him to become this closed off. He wanted to know everything about her and yet didn’t want to share anything about himself. For her that was perplexing. “Why is it important?”
“Because I want to know.”
“And do you always get what you want, Xavier?”
It was the way she said his name. It had to be, otherwise X was going to have a hell of a time later trying to figure out why he answered.
“No, Caprise, I don’t.”
She didn’t reply right away.
“Why didn’t you contact Nick to let him know you were okay?” He’d rephrased his question because the look on her face was weary. Caprise was no soft and sensitive girl; for all that she looked 100 percent female, X recognized a fighter when he saw one. Wherever she’d gone and whatever had happened while she was away, she’d done her best to defeat it before returning home. She never would have come back if she thought her past would follow her. He was certain of that, but the fact only angered him more.
She inhaled deeply, then said, “I contacted him to let him know I was okay.”
“It might help if you talk about it,” he said and almost frowned at the thought. He’d never talked about his past and had no plans to. Did that make him a big-ass hypocrite or what?
“We could do something else,” she said, rolling over until X could now feel her warm breath on his cheek. “Instead of talk, I mean.”
Her tongue traced a line along his neck, moving upward until she was just beneath his earlobe, where she bit him. It was a quick clamping of her teeth over his skin, but the stinging sensation rippled throughout his body, alerting every pleasure–pain instinct he had.
“You have so many tattoos,” she was saying, her breath a whisper along his skin as she moved farther down his neck. “Since you like to talk, tell me about this one.”
