Still Waters (Greenstone Security Book 1)

by Anne Malcom

I’d blinked against the painful stars in my vision. “Are you really ordering me not to be unconscious?” I’d snapped, though my ears were still ringing so I didn’t know if it was a yell or a whisper.

  “I fuckin’ do if my last waking image of you is with a gun to your head, and then I had to watch you tumble to the ground after a bullet was fired,” he’d clipped, his voice dancing with demons. With chaos.

  I’d tried to push myself up, but I couldn’t because his arms circled me to gently and effortlessly bring me to his chest. I didn’t protest, fearing I would topple over, or at the very least throw up if I tried to stand.

  Especially with a partially headless corpse in such close proximity.

  “Well you’re the one who fired the gun,” I’d said, trying not to look at the corpse again. Three was enough in a lifetime. “I’d hoped you were at least sure that the bullet didn’t hit me.”

  His jaw had flexed, as had his arms around me as he carried me to the front doors, illuminated by flashing lights.

  “Better late than never,” he’d muttered to the lights. Then he’d focused on me. “Would never have taken the shot if there was a prospect that the bullet would even fuckin’ brush the air you breathe,” he told me as the paramedics tried to bustle in. “Never. Surest shot I’ve ever taken,” he promised.

  The small pocket of stillness after those words momentarily numbed everything but the pain in my soul from the demons in his eyes.

  Then the rubber band snapped back.

  Chaos was an understatement. Police had swarmed everywhere, but not a single one talked to me. I was to be taken to the hospital. Keltan did not budge on that, and I didn’t argue. Because I knew the demons he was dancing with.

  So, I went.

  I was fine.

  Apart from a bruised cheek, a split lip and a mild concussion.

  Obviously to Keltan, that wasn’t fine. Just like the broken arm after the car bomb wasn’t ‘okay.’

  Heath had gotten the other guy. He was in police custody.

  “Should’ve killed the coward for winging me,” he’d muttered, stitching up his bullet wound at the offices we’d gone back to after everything.

  Yes, he was stitching up his own bullet wound. Because it was “only a flesh wound. I get worse cuts while shaving. Or in bed.”

  Crazy kiwi guys.

  And that’s where Keltan had finally allowed the police to speak to me. In the offices. After, of course, I’d spoken to him and told him what they were after—the manifests I was now handing Max.

  To say he wasn’t happy I’d kept it from him was an understatement, but I guessed I got a bit of a free pass from the full extent of his rage considering the whole “almost got shot” thing.

  I’d gotten away with that, but I was more than happy to give up the manifest so the ‘almost got shot’ thing didn’t happen again.

  We weren’t telling them about the owl. I didn’t know why, but the men seemed firm and sure, and I was used to not telling the police certain things without explanation. I just had to trust Keltan.

  I did.

  With anything.

  Including my life.

  He’d proved that today. And the days before that.

  Max looked up, eyes alight with an excitement mirroring Roger’s at the prospect of a story. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

  I couldn’t exactly tell him that my outlaw motorcycle club friend hacked into a federal site and illegally obtained it.

  But seriously, these guys could have conceivably gotten it themselves. It was from the government they worked for, after all.

  But I didn’t say that.

  “Google,” I replied confidently.

  Max’s eyes hardened. “Google?” he repeated.

  I nodded. “Yes, it’s a very helpful search engine.”

  The corner of Keltan’s mouth turned up again, and Duke’s turned into a complete smile.

  Max was not even close to smiling. One could say he was glowering. “You expect me to believe you got a fucking classified shipping manifest from Google?” he hissed.

  I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. “I don’t expect you to believe anything, Max. You’re a cop, after all, so disbelieving people is kind of your job. But whether or not you believe it, that’s my answer. And you’d be hard-pressed to get another one, or find any information to the contrary. So, I guess you’ll just have to use Google more often.” I winked.

  Max’s ears turned red with rage as he leaned forward, clutching the paper so the edges crumpled. He opened his mouth to say something, but Keltan beat him to it.

  “She answered your question, mate,” he said smoothly, but I sensed the anger underneath, saw it in his eyes. Shit, it all but filled the room. “So how about you move on.” He eyed Max. “And you swear at my woman again, we’ll be having problems.”

  Max turned his red-eared head in Keltan’s direction. “You threatening a cop?” he clipped.

  Keltan didn’t even flinch. But that was because Max’s attempt at fury was rather like a kitten trying to swipe at a lion.

  Adorable.

  But not at all successful.

  Or attractive.

  The lion on the other hand?

  Yum.

  “No,” my lion said. “I’m informing the man who just cussed at my woman, and raised his voice to her, that if he does it again, we’ll have fucking problems,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his hand squeezing my thigh, where it had been firmly grasping this entire time.

  Max blinked at him. Then the kitten retracted its claws. “This manifest, in addition to the taps and other evidence you and your men have been able to acquire, are enough to bring charges against Rafael and at least three of his top associates,” he said finally, waving the crumpled paper.

  Keltan had filled me in that he was handing over “some” of the stuff they’d gotten from their investigation. I didn’t ask why not “all,” guessing there was a long game at play.

  I trusted him.

  “Yep,” Keltan agreed.

  Max’s eyes narrowed, then focused on me. “That means you’ll have to testify, in court, under oath, as to when and how you obtained this.” He shook the paper. “You sticking with Google.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “I am.”

  He stared at me.

  “No way is she fuckin’ testifying,” Keltan interjected, squeezing my thigh once more.

  Everyone looked at him.

  I got to him before Max did. “And why is that?” I asked in a warning tone. I may not have loved to help out the law, but this Rafael guy seemed to deserve to go away. And not just because he tried to kidnap me.

  His eyes met mine. “Because, Snow. The last three people who’ve tried to testify against him have died. Brutally,” he said flatly. “You’re not testifying. No way.”

  “We’ll provide her with protection,” Max said.

  Keltan scoffed. “You provided the past three witnesses with ‘protection’ too.”

  Max’s lips were a hard line. “You know this case is a lot stronger with her testimony. In addition to being an eyewitness, she obtained key evidence.”

  “Don’t care if her testimony will bring down the entire drug trade single-handedly,” Keltan replied stiffly. “If it risks her in any way, shape or form more than she already is, she’s not doin’ it.”

  “She is sitting right here. And she walks and talks and makes decisions, you know, just like a real girl and not some pretty little doll you get to fight over,” I snapped at Keltan.

  “Snow,” he warned.

  “Nope.” I held up my hand. “You do not get to make this decision for me.” I looked to Max. “I’ll testify.”

  Max didn’t outright grin, but the kitten puffed up its back slightly at the lion.

  “Lucy,” Keltan warned again, his hands curling around mine tightly.

  I met his eyes, saw the tumbling emotions in them, fear and worry trumping anger. “You’re not changing my mind,” I whispered.


  He let out a frustrated breath, lifting our entwined hands to rest mine on his lips. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered. “Among other things.” The last part was inaudible to everyone but me.

  “We’ll try and keep your identity a secret and rush the trial, but witness protection is a viable option—”

  “No way, no how,” I interrupted.

  “Ms. Walker,” Max warned.

  “No,” I replied. “I’ve got a life here. A good one.” One that’s finally still. “No way am I running.”

  Keltan squeezed my hand.

  Max nodded. “Very well. We will offer you protection.”

  “Yeah. You’ll offer it,” Duke spoke, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “We’ll actually provide it.”

  “You’re a private security firm. We’re the police,” Max said coldly.

  Duke stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And how many witnesses have you protected in this case?”

  Max’s jaw hardened. “Three.”

  Duke nodded. “And how many have died?”

  There was a loaded pause, and I had to bite my lip to keep from outright grinning. I shouldn’t have grinned about the poor people dying, but the look on Max’s face and the red that traveled from his ears to his cheeks was rather comical.

  “Three,” he gritted out. Finally.

  “Riiiigghhtt,” Duke said. He looked to Heath. “How many of our clients have died?”

  Heath’s mouth twitched. “None.”

  “Lucinda Cross was your client, was she not?” Max cut in, far too smug about the fact that she was, and was now dead.

  Duke smiled at him. “No, indeed she wasn’t. She fired us the day before she died. And, if I’m not mistaken, it’s your job as an officer of the law to protect the citizens of our fair city. So, if we wanted to get technical, she was your client.”

  Max did not like that. Kittens rarely liked being presented with nature’s new, improved and much more dangerous version of them.

  Especially when the lions could eat them alive if they so wished.

  He stood. “Ms. Walker, you have my card. If this situation changes, or if you feel threatened in any way, please let the police department know. Otherwise, we’ll be in touch about the trial information.”

  He gave me a stiff nod, then walked equally stiffly out the door.

  “Out,” Keltan growled at Duke and Heath before anyone else could speak.

  His voice was feral, the best impression of a lion speaking I’d ever heard.

  The men gave him a knowing look before doing so.

  When it was the two of us, I turned to him, expecting the fury.

  Instead I was met with chaos. The good kind.

  My panties were off and my ass was on the bare table we’d been talking testifying and witness protection over not moments ago.

  His fingers plunged into me and I gasped at the beautiful intrusion.

  Keltan’s head rested against mine, eyes holding me captive.

  My breathing came in quick pants as one of his hands worked between my legs, the other caressing my neck gently, holding me in place.

  “Lucy,” he murmured. “I need you. I need to know you’re alive. That you’re here with me. Need to fuckin’ drown inside you,” he growled.

  I gasped as he stroked my magic spot.

  Then at the loss of him.

  “Drown, please,” I whispered.

  He positioned himself at my entrance. “I’m not losing this,” he declared. “Not now, not ever. Not to any of this shit. Promise you’ll remember I need you to breathe and to drown?”

  I sucked in a heavy breath. “Promise.”

  And then he sank into me and the world fell away.

  It was almost as if the chaos didn’t exist and it wouldn’t destroy us.

  Almost.

  Two Months Later

  I loitered outside my building feeling irritated.

  It had been two months, yet I was still sentenced to not leave the curb to go freaking shopping without an escort.

  Yes, I was testifying against a very dangerous criminal, but it had been two months. No owl figurines. Nothing. Just one botched kidnapping attempt.

  And a ruined pair of Prada slingbacks. Blood and brain matter did not wash off patent leather, just in case anyone was wondering.

  I didn’t know how he noticed, apart from my funeral I had for them—my shoes were my babies—but a week after the incident, there was a Prada box sitting on the bed at home.

  No note, no big show of the fact that he’d brought me six-hundred-dollar shoes. Nothing expected in return.

  And yes, I said home. After a life-and-death experience, little things like socially appropriate dating times and cohabitation didn’t mean shit.

  And two months in, they still didn’t.

  Two months in, I didn’t think breathing could come much easier.

  Apart from there being a drug lord out to kill me if I testified against him. But two months of silence and a lack of shootings or death threats had me thinking he’d just melted into the woodwork. The United States government had been working to expedite him using my evidence—maybe stolen from said government—combined with everything Keltan handed over and what they already had.

  And enough for me to write a story that got me one heck of a promotion.

  One heck of a promotion.

  There were details about the trial that I couldn’t publish, and I didn’t mention the name of the man who was known for chopping people’s heads off. But writing about Lucinda’s killer trying to assassinate me in my offices for finding him out—and his having been shot by my ‘bodyguard’—made sure I was Roger’s favorite person. And that my job was starting to feel like it mattered.

  I’d only write about shoes for leisure now.

  My latest story was on the rise in gangland warfare and the ease of obtaining guns in various areas of L.A., regardless of permits or age. Kids were shooting kids.

  I was hoping the story might do something to make officials notice the problem.

  One could only hope.

  I couldn’t decide whether my interviews had been more or less successful with Heath at my side.

  Who had been even more brooding and mute since he met Polly at a party Keltan and I had to celebrate us living together and me not being dead.

  Well, I only named it that once. Then Keltan took me into the bathroom and fucked me against the wall so hard that I forgot we even had guests.

  “We never joke about you being dead. Ever,” he whispered menacingly in my ear from behind me, our eyes meeting in the bathroom mirror, him still inside me. His hand tightened around my collarbone. “Okay?”

  I didn’t break his gaze. “Okay,” I agreed.

  So that had been the last time I called it that, but that’s how Heath had met Polly. And I’d expected her to swoon over him and declare him “the one.” Instead, she spoke to him for exactly five minutes, glared at him, then kept her distance for the rest of the night.

  His eyes had followed her until she left.

  The situation was remarkably familiar, but Polly was exceptionally cold about it when I mentioned it, and she had been weird lately.

  Not that I had much time to spend with my sister with my new job and Keltan taking up most of my time.

  And I’d hired Keltan to find Rosie for me.

  Not that he wasn’t already looking. Or someone on his payroll was. Someone being Luke, who’d joined the security team a week after the “incident” at my work.

  Luke, who had quit Amber PD the same time Rosie had disappeared. If there was someone I could’ve bet would never give up his badge, it would’ve been him.

  Yet he did.

  And he did it for Rosie.

  And he wasn’t the same. In no way, shape or form.

  Because of that day.

  Whatever happened turned him into a dark version of who he used to be. Midnight.

  And made my best friend run.

  Run.

/>   Rosie.

  Yeah, it was bad.

  I wasn’t putting up with it. Being in the dark.

  I was getting my friend back.

  After this craziness was over. Hopefully soon.

  My phone rang, jerking me back to the present and my irritated state.

  I glanced down and answered. “You better be calling from the street, six seconds away from me,” I informed Keltan. “I don’t like to be kept waiting. Neither do the shoes that are going to come home with me.”

  “Snow,” he said urgently. Something in his voice gave me pause.

  “What now?” I asked, sighing.

  “No. It’s good. They caught him.”

  I didn’t need to ask who “him” was.

  I let out an uneasy breath. It wasn’t exactly smooth sailing from here, as the trial would likely make things more dangerous. But Keltan had pulled some strings in order to rush it. I had no idea how he’d managed to find strings strong enough to make that happen, but I was glad.

  “Okay. Good. That means I’ll testify, and I can get Carrie back as my shopping buddy, right? She’s much more eloquent in giving shoe opinions,” I said.

  There was a pause and the rumbling of street noise in the background.

  “Yeah, they’re rushing the trial. He’s in transit now, so it’s going to be over soon. I promise. I told you I’d be whoever it takes for this. Well, I am that person. And I don’t regret a thing.”

  The conversation came back to me. The one about assassination.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?” I asked, wary of talking on the phone. Didn’t everyone say the NSA tapped all phones? If so, I didn’t want to straight-up ask whether Keltan had arranged to have Rafael killed before he got here and I had to testify.

  Then we’d have the men hiding behind the corners coming in to arrest Keltan. And that just would not do.

  “I’ll be there in two, babe,” he said by way of answer. And by confirmation.

  I let out another breath.

  I frowned at the young boy who looked like a bike messenger as he leaned his bike against a post, looking at me. He left it, not even locking it.

  Well, that isn’t going to be there when he gets back.

  “Why did you call me when you could have just waited two minutes to tell me?” I asked, watching the boy’s journey towards me.