by Billi Jean
“What is it?” Cody asked, and examined the pendant she’d taken from the man’s neck. It was one of those Catholic saints, he thought.
“Petrok.” David tightened his hand on Paris’. She was so quiet she worried him but Sonya slowly smiled, as if the game had just changed, and for once, for the better.
“This is Savage. New face, new suit, but too arrogant to leave it all behind,” she murmured, then gave them all a grin he’d only seen her direct at Cody.
“Looks like we all just drew the get out of jail free card.”
Chapter Twenty
Six weeks later
Paris settled closer to David on the park bench, worrying her shirtsleeve, but unable to sit still. Today David had been released from service. For real. He assured her it was a simple formality, but to her it meant a lot. She knew for him it did, too. Now all she wanted was to get him home to celebrate the right way. She’d settle for the hotel room he’d booked for them.
“Stop fidgeting.”
“I always fidget when I’m…nervous,” she murmured so Will wouldn’t hear.
Will shot her a smile, no doubt hearing her anyway. “Nervous, huh?” he teased. “Jansen, you’d better get her home—”
“David. Not Jansen, David,” she corrected, threading her fingers in between David’s. They’d had a celebration lunch after the papers had been picked up, so she thought she was doing fairly well at behaving. David hadn’t been. He’d been teasing her under the table throughout the entire lunch.
“That’s right. No more last names, Will. We’re not in the service any longer,” David said, giving her a bump with his shoulder.
Will shook his head, but she could tell he agreed.
He was going to New York, to work for some security company she couldn’t understand. She thought it sounded as dangerous as what he’d been doing. David had agreed, but shrugged and said whatever floated Will’s boat. She’d asked David what he’d do now, and he’d said taking care of her was enough for him. Of course he’d taken care of her right after he’d said it. Not that she’d complained. Right now would be a good time to take care of her all over again, but she still wasn’t into public sex.
“So, you doing the security thing with Eagle?” David asked, shifting his leg.
It still ached sometimes, he said, but he could do everything—absolutely everything—he’d done before. She still tingled from the things he’d done after waking her up with his amazing mouth this morning.
“Yep. It’s gonna be a new branch in New York. There’s a ton of work to be done,” he said.
Frowning, she glanced at David and caught him smiling at her. “That means desk work, if I’m guessing right,” he said. “Will hates desk work. He’ll be up to visit us in no time.”
Will grunted. “Canada, huh? Pretty far from New York.”
“Part of the time,” she said, nudging David so he bent and kissed her.
“Then a bit of traveling when I can get her off the ice,” David said, winking at her. She smiled. Their first trip was to Greece. He promised they were going from there to Rome, then on to conquer Great Britain, making love along the way.
She was more than okay with that promise.
“We’ve been in Vermont for weeks,” she clarified. “You didn’t stop by.”
Will chuckled. “I didn’t want to get shot.”
“Shot?”
David shifted again, and pulled her to her feet when he stood. She zeroed in on him, and sure enough, he couldn’t hold in his grin.
“David Jansen,” she whispered, blushing. No doubt he’d threatened Will so he could keep her in bed, or wherever else he found to make love to her. He’d claimed it was good for his leg, and then had introduced her to his third leg. She still got a giggle over that. His third leg got a lot more attention than his other two.
“I might have threatened some bodily harm, but I didn’t say anything about shooting you.” He hugged her to him when he responded, making it clear he was more than ready to go if the bulge hitting her stomach meant anything.
“Oh, I think your exact words were, ‘if you even think of interrupting us in Vermont, think twice unless you want your ass filled with lead.’ We don’t even use lead anymore for bullets,” Will tacked on.
She laughed, and once she started, couldn’t stop. She buried her head against David’s chest and knew she was blushing even hotter. There wasn’t a chance Will didn’t realize David had a hard-on. She could hope he didn’t, but knew better. Especially the way David had his hands up under her long jacket, squeezing her butt. It was so much like that first night with the two of them, she knew Will wasn’t fooled for a minute.
“She gets like this,” David offered.
“Yeah, you really crack her up, huh?” Will chuckled.
She pulled away and wiped her eyes. “He is a handful.”
Both men laughed at that and she covered her face, realizing exactly why. He was more than a handful, though, so she couldn’t take it back.
David pulled her hands free and kissed her cheek, then winked at her, making it even funnier. “You know it.”
“Okay, you two, I’ll see you tomorrow before we all leave, eh?” Will asked, already walking backward.
“Okay,” she managed and smiled.
Will smiled back and saluted.
“Later, man,” David called.
“Oh, David, I can’t believe you threatened Will like that.”
He focused back on her and squeezed her butt, grinding her against his erection. “What? It worked for your uncle, why not me?”
“You were never going to break my heart,” she reminded him, tugging his blond hair just like he always did hers.
“No.” He tugged hers. “I never will.”
“Promise?”
Instead of answering that, he kissed her so well she was breathless, and more worried about getting him home to make love to him than what anyone else in the park would think of them. She snuck a hand down and stroked along his erection. He tightened his arms around her and growled.
“You’re going to be ravished in the park if you don’t slow down,” he warned. “I know you’re not into public sex either, princess.”
“Oh, is that so? I think you’re going to be the one ravished, David Jansen. For a very, very long time, too.”
“Damn, now that’s a promise I’m going to make you keep.”
“Always,” she whispered.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Sisterhood of Jade: A Spartan’s Kiss
Billi Jean
Excerpt
Chapter One
The silence of the night settled over Tabithia as she waited.
The witching hour could hide almost anything. Things a person couldn’t obscure in the harsh light of day.
She was good at hiding. Had to be. None of her close friends knew what she concealed beneath the surface of her adrenaline-junkie escapades. Not even her aunts knew that, beneath her skin, she hid the revulsion clawing at her. Why should they? People had burdens. Burdens they managed alone. Hers were no different. And they were easier to hide in the dimness of the midnight hours. Night allowed the edges of darkness within her to melt into forgetfulness. Black was, in fact, her favourite colour.
She should have been born a vampire, not a witch.
Sadly, no. She was one of the Wiccan, a Daughter of the Three. She wasn’t one of those goodie-two-shoes, can’t-hurt-anyone witches. Oh, no. Her ancient coven believed in survival. Survival meant being so badass no one messed with you. She had the badass down to a T.
For all the good it did her.
Tabithia hunkered further down in her crouch, as a runner glittering with reflectors, ran by with her music blaring. She winced. Clearly, the runner had no regard for her ears. Or herself. Aged buildings, paint peeling and splashed with colourful graffiti, lined a street full of potholes and trash, yet a woman ran by with her ear buds blocking out any sound other than her music? Humans. Tab
never would understand them.
She really wanted to curse her aunt, Circerran, nicknamed Trouble, for getting her out here. By now, Tabithia could be drinking at One Eye’s immortal tavern or racing her way-too-expensive but fantastic Ecosse road bike with other immortals. Instead, she waited until the jogger disappeared before craning her neck around the building’s brick corner to peer down the murky street. Cursing wasn’t her thing, anyway. Too many people just didn’t get that a curse could come back and bite you in the ass. She did. Oh, yeah, she got that, so no cursing for her.
Several minutes passed, and no one else appeared. Not surprising since even a stray cat wouldn’t wander through this neighbourhood so late at night. The runner lacked common sense. Still, Tabithia didn’t trust her eyesight alone. Magic could flow beneath the surface of almost anything from a poisoned apple to a slum neighbourhood street. With one more glance behind and to both sides of her, she leaned a hand on the rough brick wall and focused her inner eye, which revealed nothing more than the shadows of the cars she’d already spotted parked along both sides of the street.
Tabithia watched a second more before letting the witch sight fade, leaving her alone in the shadows once again. Hunger, not for food, but for the feel of others around her, beat at her. Restlessness burned along her body. Her muscles ached from holding them tightly bunched and ready for action—action wasn’t happening on a street corner.
I could be out partying. Drinking it up. But no. Trouble calls and I have to answer.
True. She always would, too, no doubt.
So, party time would have to wait. Instead she waited, while the darkness inside her built higher and higher. The need to ease the pain blistered along her senses grew, and she knew, just knew that only more pain could ease the beast clawing within her.
She drew her butterfly knife and balanced the double-sided blade by its tip between her two fingers, flicked the scissor-like sheath along her knuckles and spun the silver blade over and between her fingers. The cool weight of steel comforted her. The sharp edge provided the pain that would ease the memories. She watched the silver blur as she twisted her wrist and let the razor-sharp blade glide over her knuckles before snapping the two sections of the hilt in her hand. The urge to screw up the rhythm of her knife play surged through her. With more effort than she felt comfortable with, she steadied her hand and began another round of flip and catch, until she could control her breathing.
Trouble would be there soon
“Well? What’s up? Any news?”
Shit! Tabithia clenched her fist around the smooth hilt of her knife, just barely stopping herself from yelping at aunt’s soft whisper near her ear.
She hated when Trouble caught her by surprise. No doubt her observant aunt had done it on purpose, too. Not many could get the drop on her, but when Trouble did, her aunt always enjoyed it to the max. Aggravating didn’t even begin to describe her aunt.
Not bothering to turn, since she could sense her aunt’s grin without the humiliation of actually seeing it, she took her time to pocket her knife, trying to summon the patience to deal with her aunt’s cheerfulness. “Nada. Should there be? Is this going to take all night? I do have a party—”
“Please. You always have a party. This pays the bills. Right?”
Tabithia had enough money set aside to pay for her partying from here to eternity—if she ever had to pay for her partying. Trouble? Gobs more. Her aunt stockpiled money like a squirrel packing a tree full of nuts for the next ice age.
When she grumbled again, Trouble laughed. Tabithia reluctantly turned around to confront her, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Her aunt’s eyes sparkled with happiness. She always sparkled—tonight proved to be no exception. Dressed in a white T-shirt with the words ‘More Cowbell’ scrolled across her breasts, black hip-hugger jeans tucked into knee-high black boots, she looked more like a hip rocker chick than a deadly spell-caster. She winked when Tabithia met her eye.
“Caught ya, didn’t I?”
“Nah, I knew you were on your way.”
Trouble’s grin widened, but she dropped the issue. “Yeah, anyways, chica, this one will be worth the wait.”
Like Tabithia hadn’t heard that before.
She ignored Trouble’s huffed laugh. A woman who looked like her aunt shouldn’t be able to get them into such trouble. Her ivory skin, high cheekbones, wide, green eyes, cute, little, pink bow mouth, and heart-shaped face simply looked like they belonged on some supermodel, not an adrenaline junkie hooked on mad escapades. Gorgeous, waist-length, burgundy hair Tabithia would die for—or kill to have—framed all that beauty into something breathtaking.
Yeah, her aunt made her feel like a watered-down carbon copy. She hated that.
“So? What’s the take?”
Trouble placed a long, red-nailed finger over her pink lips and whispered, “Shh, you’ll see.”
Tabithia turned back to the street, holding in a growl of frustration.
Several uncomfortable seconds later, Trouble said, “You’re no fun anymore, Tabbie-cat.”
“Huh.”
Her aunt rocked against her shoulder, trying to break her out of her black mood. No luck. She’d tried all week to jump-start herself out of the gloominess currently weighing her down. The darkness beat a painful rhythm inside, demanding more recognition the longer she ignored it. Action. Pain. No amount of teasing would ease what she had going on.
“Aw, come on. Lighten up.”
She blinked.
“I’m light.” Did she sound defensive? “Just what’s up? I hate it when you don’t tell me the deets. I’ve been waiting here for you all night and now you pop in and don’t explain a thing. I hate that.”
Silence met her outburst. Heat warmed her face. She suddenly felt clumsy, awkward, as if she stood naked in a room of strangers. Her outburst wasn’t her style. But more and more she felt frustration building and blowing when she didn’t concentrate on keeping a tight lid on it. Along with hot, blistering self-hatred, now she had temper tantrums to worry about. She bit her lip, knowing that no matter how hard she tried to ignore herself, her body, her stupid life and, even more, her stupid dreams, she couldn’t seem to keep that lid on tight enough. Something horrible always slithered out from under the lid. Tabithia needed to feel the bite of steel, see the blood, and block the images ready to swallow her whole before the memories dragged her back to a small, dark, dirty room filled with horror.
“There’s going to be a silver BMW Z9 coming down the street in about two minutes. The driver’s going to be a vampire. He has a case. In the case is a diamond, and that, Tabbie-cat, is what we’re after. He’s an amateur. Totally. Took the diamond from some very upset folks. So? We’re on a fetch and carry.”
It took Tabithia a full second to soak up the flood her aunt had just spilled.
“Huh.”
Another silence settled between them.
Behind her, her aunt shuffled her feet on the dirty pavement. “If I’d known you wanted in, I would have told you the deets. I didn’t think you really—”
The sound of screeching tyres and a revved-up engine interrupted the embarrassing apology. The mark had arrived.
Adrenaline flushed through Tabithia, exceeding any drug ever created, and quickly shoved the darkness back where it belonged. “Game on.”
Trouble nodded. “True. You stop the car. I’ll distract. You take the case. Meet me in two hours. My place.”
Not bothering to answer, Tabithia began her spell, drawing energy and power from the cool night air to add impact to the murmured words. Eyes focused on the street, she gathered up a small breeze and loaded on some strength, creating a small, but potent cyclone of dirt and debris. A silver little beauty roared into view and nearly upended when the driver tried to avoid getting dirt on his pretty sports model.
In the midst of the burned rubber and smoke, Trouble walked out from her hidden location by the wall. She’d used her magic to transform her T-shir
t and jeans into a white, low-cut sheath dress, hugging her ass like a glove and barely covering it as she strutted over the uneven ground like a runway model. Hand up, faking a phone call, Trouble appeared oblivious to the screeching tyres and windstorm.
Tabithia grinned. Only her aunt could pull off something like this.
When Trouble reached the edge of the storm, she spun as if just realising she was facing impending death by sports car.
Classic, really. Tabithia settled in for the show.
Trouble turned on the glam like the best Hollywood actress ever to grace the big screen. Eyes wide, she gasped like a little schoolgirl and trembled in her four-inch heels.
Tabithia hit her with more wind, sending Trouble’s long, burgundy curls flying. Trouble dropped her fake phone and covered half her face. Her eyes rounded out in shock at the car barrelling towards her on a sideways scream of rubber, and if she’d been human, she’d have been in big trouble.
But if the driver had been human, he would have just killed a defenceless-looking woman with his million-dollar baby.
Tabithia still winced and her body tightened in preparation for a disaster. The driver fought the car, beating it into a path angled away from Trouble, hitting a kerb, crashing sideways into a tan sedan and jerking to a halt, mere inches from her aunt.
Trouble faked the showgirl to a T with a scream that any B-movie actress would die for. Hands over her mouth, green eyes glistening with unshed tears, she looked scared out of her mind.
The vampire nearly tore the car door off trying to get out. Big, dark-haired and looking more like a Wall Street broker in a pinstriped suit than a vampire, he held his palms out in front of his chest, face set in concern and no little amount of panic.
Trouble stumbled and appeared on the verge of fainting. The vampire must have taken that as the real deal, because he raced to Trouble and caught her in his arms. Her aunt shrieked and clutched onto him as though she might fall without him. Tabithia thought she heard him swear. He took Trouble by the shoulders, appearing to check if she had suffered any harm. Her aunt broke down, gasping in fake fear, and clung to the guy like a vine. Vamps could sense a witch’s power, so he had to recognise her as a witch, but he must have thought her one weak little Wicca, because he patted her back and stroked her hair like a real Good Samaritan.
