Tooth and Claw (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 2)

by Lisa Emme

  “Harry, stop blaming yourself.” Isaac’s voice echoed in my head, startling me. I had forgotten about that little side benefit from sharing blood with him. “You were only protecting yourself.”

  “But that’s just it,” I thought back, trying to keep the frown off my face. “I had it under control. If I had just kept my mouth shut…”

  “We all know how difficult that can be for you.” I could hear the laughter in Isaac’s words.

  “Ha ha. Very funny.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back on the sofa.

  “There is no point dwelling on what can’t be undone, Harry. Instead, we should be trying to hurry this outing along. The sooner we can get out of here, the better, don’t you think?”

  Before I could reply, Marcel interrupted my thoughts. “What’s the matter, petite minette? Are we boring you?” He threw his hands wide to encompass the room and the fight below.

  Seeing an opportunity to get the ball moving, I shrugged, letting the corner of my lip curl up. “Honestly, yes. If I wanted to watch two norms wail on each other, I could turn on pay-per-view.” I turned to Tomas and gave him a pouty face. “I thought you said this place was special, that I would see some real fighting.”

  Tomas’s eyes took on a glint as he caught on to my ruse. “You can’t get this on pay-per-view baby. Although….” He trailed off to look speculatively at Marcel. “I heard that there is another type of fighting going down soon, something a little more primal?”

  Marcel looked around nervously. “I don’t believe I know what you are talking about, mon ami.” He shook his head emphatically, his lips pressed in a thin line.

  I leaned forward, knowing that it would give Marcel a more than decent view of my cleavage, reaching over to brush my hand across his. I ran the tip of my tongue slowly across my lips. “That’s too bad. I was hoping for something a little more…raw.” I sat back in my seat again. Marcel’s eyes continued to burn into me. I touched a finger to my lips, my tongue darting out to lick it. I slid my now wet finger down my chin, to my chest, letting it blaze a wet trail along the skin between my breasts. I dipped my finger into the vee of my dress giving the stretchy fabric a little tug. “The idea of seeing something I couldn’t see anywhere else makes me hot.”

  Marcel’s eyes were riveted on the expanse of bare skin and cleavage I was exposing. He swallowed, his eyes narrowing.

  “Mmmm baby, you’re always hot,” Tomas said, his hand going to my bare knees forcing them slightly apart. He slid his hand up along the inside of my thigh. Marcel licked his lips, his eyes snapping down to follow the path of Tomas’s hand. From the look on his face, Marcel was hooked. Maybe a little push would land him.

  “I need something more,” I replied in a breathy voice. I let my legs part open a little more as Tomas’s hand slid further up my leg. “Something that will make me hot and…bothered.”

  Marcel, his eyes never leaving Tomas’s hand as it approached the junction of my thighs, cleared his throat. “There is something.” He licked his lips.

  “Tell me,” I said, putting a wisp of power behind my words.

  “An upcoming event. Very private. Very exclusive.” Marcel’s voice became almost monotone as he watched Tomas pet my thigh. “One-of-a-kind action.” He shook his head as if to clear it and then frowned.

  “Where? When?” I placed a hand on Tomas’s halting its progress. “Tell me everything you know,” I said to Marcel, giving him another little nudge.

  “I don’t know where. I don’t know when. Je suis désolé.” He held up his hands as if begging for forgiveness.

  “Tell me what you do know then.” I glanced down and realized I was still gripping Tomas’s hand. I scowled at him, pushing it back onto his own lap. Tomas smirked and gave a little shrug.

  “Oui, oui. I only have a contact number. You call it and they give you instructions.”

  “What sort of instructions?” Tomas leaned forward in interest.

  “This fight, it is very expensive. You must first prove you are able to afford the price of admission. They will tell you an address. You go and leave an envelope with one thousand dollars and your name and contact information. On the day of the event you will get a call. It is a pickup location. You go, along with ten times your contact fee, and they will transport you and your guest to the location of the fight.”

  “Ten thousand dollars?” I couldn’t hide my shock. “People pay ten thousand dollars to see a fight?”

  “Mais oui.” Marcel shrugged as if it wasn’t that big a deal. “It is very exclusive, for the connoisseur. Ten thousand is nothing for the type of people they cater to.”

  I sat back, shaking my head, wondering how many rich sickos there were in Riverton that got off on watching people forced to kill each other. Obviously enough to make this scheme worth it. But was it just for the money? Was this whole thing just a way to get rich or was there another motive? What about Douglas Bellemare and the Society of Montferrat? Were they really involved? What we needed were more answers. What we needed was ten thousand dollars.

  “We need the contact number,” I said to Marcel. He frowned and looked at Tomas as if seeking confirmation. “You will tell me everything you know about this fight and its organizers, including the contact number. When I say our conversation is over, you will forget that it ever happened. Tomas, Isaac and I were never here. Do you understand?” I gave him a bigger nudge, feeling the connection I had established to him strengthen.

  “Oui, oui.” Marcel began to nod vigorously. “Of course, I understand.”

  “Good,” I relaxed back in my seat. “Now tell us what you know.”

  It turns out Marcel didn’t know much more than what he had already told us. He did have one troubling detail to share however. Although he didn’t know the names of any of the organizers of the event, he had heard rumours that a man named Elian Navarre was involved. I had no clue who he was talking about, but judging from both Isaac’s and Tomas’s reactions to the name, it was an important piece of the puzzle.

  With nothing else to keep us there, now that we knew how to make contact with the group involved in the underground fight club, we didn’t linger. Marcel escorted us back down to the club’s entrance.

  “Tomas, mon ami, you must come again soon. I need a chance to take some of your money.” Marcel laughed and clapped Tomas on the shoulder.

  Tomas gave him a wry smile. “You can try, my friend. Next time.”

  Marcel turned to me and gave a little bow. “Enchanté mademoiselle. It was a pleasure. When you tire of this boy,” he gestured at Tomas with a grin, “come back and visit me and wear that sexy little dress again. I will show you why they say we French are the best lovers.”

  “Not going to happen,” I said with a laugh. “This conversation is over.” Like magic, and I guess technically it was, Marcel’s face went blank. He turned away from us and began to walk back into the club as if we were no longer standing there.

  “Well, that went better than I thought,” Tomas said with a shrug. He put an arm across my shoulders pulling me in close. “You know you do look pretty hot in that dress and I can assure you, I’m not a boy.”

  “Eww,” I replied, yanking his arm off my shoulders and pushing him away. “Thanks for your help tonight Tomas, but this doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re a bit of creep.” I looked over to Isaac who was, as usual, waiting in bodyguard mode off to the side. “I’ll get a ride home with you, if that’s okay.”

  “Certainly,” he replied.

  Tomas laughed. “Your loss, Russo.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled something out, tossing it to me. Without another look, he started to walk to his car.

  I caught the small object and looked at it with a frown. It was Nash’s bug. So Tomas did have it all along. I guess that probably meant Nash had heard every word we’d said. Hopefully that meant we wouldn�
�t have to sit through the third degree when we got home. I was tired and my feet were killing me. I looked at Isaac. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Isaac nodded and led me towards his big, black Escalade. As we approached, another big, black truck roared up, coming between us and Isaac’s vehicle. The driver side window slid down and Nash leaned out.

  “Get in,” he growled.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Get in, Harry,” Nash repeated, the expression on his face making it clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He turned his glare to Isaac and another one of those silent guy exchanges, where nothing is said but volumes are spoken, took place.

  “You’d best go with him, Harry.” Isaac looked resigned but unconcerned.

  I sighed, knowing any resistance at this point would be futile. “Fine,” I said with a pout and stomped my way around the truck. When I got to the passenger door, Nash leaned over and pushed it open. I hesitated, looking at the rather large step up to get into Nash’s monster of a truck. How the hell was I supposed to climb up there in what I was wearing? Thankfully, Isaac saw my dilemma.

  “Allow me, Harry,” he said, putting his hands on my waist. He lifted me easily and set me on the seat of the truck.

  “Thanks, Isaac.” I glanced at Nash, who sat scowling in the seat beside me and then leaned back over towards Isaac. “You sure this is a good idea?”

  Isaac smiled wryly. “You will come to no harm.”

  “Let’s go,” Nash grumbled.

  Isaac gave me a look of sympathy then shut the door. Nash peeled away, roaring across the parking lot and out onto the road while I scrambled to get my seatbelt on.

  We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. I glanced around the truck and noticed Nash’s laptop on the floor by my feet.

  “So was Bryce able to get any security feeds to you?” I asked, hoping some conversation would warm up the frosty atmosphere.

  “I could see everything.” Nash’s reply sounded as if it came out between gritted teeth.

  “Uh, okay.” I nodded, biting my lower lip. “How about the bug, did it work?”

  “I could hear everything too.”

  “Oh, good. So you know then, we have a number that may help us…”

  “There is no us, Harry. Your involvement is no longer required.” Nash kept his eyes on the road. I frowned at him, but kept my mouth shut.

  A few minutes passed before I realized that we were no longer heading towards home, at least not my home. In fact, I didn’t really know where we were. Finally I caught sight of a street I recognized. “Hey, where are we going? This is the way out of town.”

  Nash turned and pinned me with steely eyes. “Just sit back and relax Harry, we’ll be there soon.” He inhaled deeply and then huffed out a breath. Scowling, he turned his eyes back to the road; the driver’s side window glided down a couple of inches letting in a blast of cold, fresh air.

  I sat shivering from the cold in silence as we left Riverton behind, watching as the city streets disappeared to be replaced by a rural highway. It was late and there was very little traffic on the road. The area was sparsely populated; the few houses we passed were dark except for the occasional outside security light. The landscape became more and more wooded, until we were soon driving between rows of scraggly aspen, birch and pine. After a few more minutes, Nash slowed down and turned off onto a narrow, unmarked gravel road.

  “Where are we going?” I asked again, knowing it was probably a waste of breath. As I expected, no response was forthcoming.

  The road got rougher and the ride bumpier as the trees seemed to close in on either side of us. Frankly, the whole place was beginning to look a little spooky. “You know, you can’t just bring me out here to bury my body,” I tried as a joke. “Isaac’s a witness.”

  Nash snorted, but kept his eyes on the road. A few minutes later it split off into an even narrower lane. At least this one seemed to have been graded, the potholes and washboard recently filled with new gravel. The trees were thick on either side of the road, if it could even be called that. I flinched as a branch thrashed against the window. The truck slowed and the road took a sharp turn to the right.

  I gasped in surprise when the lane widened out into a large clearing. At the centre of the clearing stood a rather charming looking little cabin. It was built in the Craftsman style of the early 1900s with a low pitched roof and exposed rafters. The foundation and porch posts appeared to be fieldstone, while the remainder of the building was clad in a dark clapboard siding - it was too dark outside to tell what colour. There were numerous windows, many with coloured, leaded glass.

  Nash pulled further into the yard then shifted the truck into park.

  “We’re here. Get out,” he growled. Not waiting for a reply, he hopped out his side of the truck and slammed the door.

  I sat in the truck, not really sure if getting out was a good idea. Before I had a chance to make up my mind, the door on my side of the truck flew open. Nash stood there looking at me expectantly.

  “Listen, Nash…” I began, not really sure what I was going to say, but stalling for time seemed like a good start.

  “Get out of the truck, Harry,” Nash repeated quietly. He stood between the open door and the truck with one arm resting on each side, boxing me in.

  Biting my lip, I swung my legs out of the truck, hoping my dress would cooperate. I kept one hand firmly on the hem, just in case, as I slid off the seat to the ground. It was a further drop than I was expecting and I stumbled forward. I flung my hands out in front of me only to encounter the solid mass of Nash’s chest. He grabbed my wrists to steady me while I gained my feet. The look in his eyes was so intense, my breath caught in my throat and I took a reflexive step back, away from him.

  A momentary flash of something, regret maybe, registered in Nash’s eyes and he dropped my wrists, taking a step back. “I would never let anything happen to you Harry,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

  “Why are we here Nash?” I looked at him, searching for an answer. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “I…I need…” He broke off with a growl of frustration. He started to turn away and I thought he was going to just walk off and leave me standing there, but then suddenly he was back looming right in front of me, pressing me up against the truck. He reached out and grabbed my jaw, firmly but gently. Before I could process what he was doing, his mouth was on mine.

  The kiss was more like a complete assault on my senses. I could smell his crisp, clean man scent, mixed with a hint of soap from a recent shower. The heat from his body seared into me, causing a different kind of goosebumps to race across my bare skin. He tasted like peppermint gum.

  His lips were firm and demanding and I felt myself begin to yield to his assault. He slipped his other hand behind my head, his fingers threaded through my hair, tipping my head back. My lips parted in surprise and his tongue slipped into my mouth. He took total control of the kiss, gentle yet demanding, licking and sucking, even nipping my lower lip. I melted up against him, any protest completely obliterated by his kiss and how it made me feel.

  Suddenly, he jerked away, pushing himself off the truck. He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. My body, which had been well on its way to reaching scorching temperatures, suddenly felt bereft, the cold air prickling against my skin.

  “You smell like him,” Nash choked out.

  “Like who? You mean Tomas?” I looked at him feeling confused. “You know that was all for show. The guy wouldn’t keep his hands to himself. I can barely stand him most days.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nash replied with a frown. “The wolf…” He stopped, biting off his words. He looked at me, the heat of desire bright in his eyes and then suddenly he was pressed up against me again.

  This time I reached up to him, pulling his face down to mine. I kissed him as hard as he ha
d just kissed me, pushing my tongue between his lips and he growled in pleasure. I moved my hand, sliding it behind his head, but he grabbed me by my wrists, pushing my arms down to my sides then around behind my back. He captured them there, wrapping his big hand around both my wrists. I made a little sound of protest, but truthfully, the feeling of being trapped in his grasp just turned me on even more.

  Nash took control of the kiss again, his body pressed heavily against mine. His free hand began to roam down my body, stopping to cup my breast. His thumb rubbed against my already erect nipple and a gasp of pleasure escaped me. He left his thumb pressed against the hard nub of my nipple, rubbing it in circles. I moaned again and I could feel him smile through our kiss. His mouth moved along my jaw, kissing and nipping down my throat. My breathing began to sound more like panting and I cried out when he nipped the erogenous zone just below my ear.

  “Oh god Nash…” I whimpered. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to stop, or do more.

  “I need you Harry,” Nash groaned. “The thought of his hands all over you, his mouth on yours...the wolf…”

  I struggled in his grasp, leaning my head away from his. “Is that what this is all about?” I finally pulled my hands free and pushed him away. “The wolf is jealous?”

  Nash took a step back, a look of regret on his face. He tousled his hair with his hand again in frustration. “The wolf went crazy watching Tomas touch you. It was all I could do to contain him, to keep myself from storming into the club and pulling him off you.”

  “So that’s what this is? The wolf is in charge right now? What about the man? What does he want?” I looked at him reproachfully. “What do you want, Cian?”