“Cheesy come-ons?” Xander said, leaning forward in his chair. “What if I told you I dream about you nightly? Your skin glorious and bare beneath my hands. What if I said I crave you like a drug and won’t rest until I have you in my bed?”
I ignored the pleasant glow that threatened to settle in my stomach from his words. I wasn’t completely immune to Xander’s charm. Flocks of women would be more than happy to strip naked for him with fewer words than that. But somehow I had a feeling it was the thrill of the chase that really turned Xander on. “I guess you’re going to have to look forward to many sleepless days and nights, Xander.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, ignoring my sarcasm. “Each second without you is torture.”
Being the stubborn, arrogant ass he was, nothing I could say would deter Xander from wanting me. I suspected it was simply because I was the one thing he couldn’t get with a seductive smile and snap of his fingers. He was laying it on particularly thick today, but I wasn’t interested in playing his game. Raif’s mood had brushed off on me.
“I’m here to discuss one thing and one thing only. Money.”
Xander opened a drawer and withdrew a square ledger book. He flipped it to the appropriate page and grabbed a pen. “What will it take to get this matter of payment settled once and for all? One hundred thousand? Two? I’ll cut you a check, and you can never mention the subject again.”
My jaw hung slack. The bastard always had to one up me. But it didn’t matter. I wanted something from him, and his arrogance would ensure I was going to get it. “Are we talking about a retainer?”
“If it makes you feel better, yes.”
I could name my price and Xander would pay it? Well, it would eliminate having to seek him out every time I set foot on his property. Working for the Shaede King brought with it certain advantages I needed, but did I want to work on retainer for him? He’d dangle the money over my head and use any ridiculous excuse to get me to drop everything for him. “I’ll consider it,” I said. “On one condition.”
He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Oh yeah, arrogance, thy name is Xander Peck. “I want to answer to Raif and Raif only. I will not wait at your beck and call. If you have work for me—fine. I’ll be glad to operate under retainer. But I won’t bat a lash unless Raif tells me to do it. And when he doesn’t need me, don’t expect to see me. I’ll reserve the right to work for other employers.” Take that, asshole.
“Done,” Xander said. “How much should I make the check out for?”
How ’bout a billion dollars? “Two fifty ought to cover it.” I held my breath, waiting to see how much he really wanted me around.
“I’ll make it three,” Xander said, his pen scratching against paper, “just in case.” With a flourish, he ripped the check from the ledger and slid it across the desk. Shit. He wanted me more than I’d thought. “Now you’re paid, and you can quit whining about it.”
I took offense at his comment. I had never considered myself a whiner. “Great,” I said.
Xander’s lips curved in a triumphant smile. Trumped again, I was sure he’d gloat for a long while over this one. If only I could be so outwardly smug. For a moment, I considered tearing the check to shreds and showering him with the confetti. But that would only prove his point and call my bluff. I needed an in, and this was it. So, instead, I brought Xander’s check to my nose, inhaling the scent of all those zeroes before stuffing it in my pocket. I swung my legs down off his desk and stood, hoping like I hell I could walk out the door without being ogled in a way that made me feel as though I’d need a scalding-hot shower afterward. “See you around, Your Highness,” I said.
“Yes.” Xander’s velvet voice chased me out the door. “You will.”
By paying my retainer, Xander hadn’t only just given me an assload of money; he’d also gifted me with what I really wanted out of our arrangement—power. No one would question my authority as Xander’s agent. And what I’d have to sacrifice through our bargain—my sanity at being his paid employee for starters—was a fair price to pay for what I’d gained. I’d be able to walk right into the PNT facility and question Delilah, at Xander’s request, of course, whether or not he’d actually asked me to do it.
Well…what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
I could get past Adare. I knew from our first meeting that he was an easygoing sort, not prone to suspicion. My only concern with getting in to question Delilah was Adare’s partner. Adare wouldn’t have told Raif that Fallon was dangerous if he wasn’t. And the fact that someone as deadly as Raif had warned me to stay away from him made me even more nervous. With any luck, I wouldn’t have to see him at all. I could slip past Adare with a few kind words and a fabricated story. But with the way Fallon’s intense stare had unnerved me, I doubted my ability to properly deceive him.
Who was he? Obviously he had a reputation that preceded him. But Raif’s explanation simply wasn’t good enough for me. Could I Google him? Sure. That’d work. Fallon on Facebook. View my complete profile here. I needed to get back into that building to question Delilah. Bringing Raif in on my plan was not an option. He’d shut me down before I could step a foot on PNT property. A few centuries had passed since his daughter’s disappearance. Opening up a wound that had long since scarred over would be terrible for him. I’d have to do this alone. I just hoped I had the backbone required to face those piercing gray eyes should I come across them again.
As I made my way down the stairs to the foyer of Xander’s ridiculously large house, the sound of Anya barking out frenzied and fear-fueled orders drifted up from the basement-level staircase. I smiled, striding for the door while humming a tune. “Don’t scuff your new leather pants on the tile floor!” I called out as I opened the door. The crash of something metal followed by a furious shriek answered me. Yep. Better than Christmas!
Chapter 8
“Darian!” Panting breaths followed a wince of pain. “Are you safe?”
I stared down at my cell for a moment before putting it back to my ear. “I’m fine.” Fear congealed in a cold knot, settling in the pit of my stomach. “What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“Thank the gods,” was Tyler’s reply. I could hear the anxiety in his voice, the pain as he swallowed against gasping breaths. “Don’t…leave your apartment. Stay where—ah—you are.”
“Why?” Jesus, was that really my voice? It had escalated into something high-pitched and frantic. “What the hell is going on?”
“Someone will be there soon….”
I waited for him to say more, but the line had gone silent. “Tyler?” I whispered. “Ty?”
An angry growling of gears in the background startled me, and the cell phone dropped to the floor. The back panel popped off while the battery sailed underneath my kitchen table. I left the phone in pieces and merged with thin air only to reappear at the gate to my elevator.
“Is there a reason why you failed to mention that someone tried to kill you a few nights ago?” Raif’s accusing voice drifted up the shaft before the elevator made its way completely up. “My, but you’re a special combination of stupid and stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Where is Tyler?” I demanded as Raif stepped out of the metal cage and brushed past me.
“Dimitri’s gone after him.”
“What happened to him?”
“Oh no,” Raif said suddenly. “This is not your interrogation. I have some questions for you, and you’re going to answer every last one of them before you get one scrap of information about your Jinn.”
Apparently Raif liked being left in the dark just about as much as I did. With Delilah being our main focus, I’d forgotten to mention my near brush with death a couple nights back. Not that it wasn’t unusual lately for someone to try to kill me. Strange what a girl can get used to.
“Tell me first,” I said as I tried to control the shaking of my voice. “Is Tyler all right?”
“I suspect he’ll be fine. But we’ll get to that l
ater. What happened at that bar you like to frequent?”
Raif’s dislike of my favorite hangout was obvious. He wouldn’t even give it the respect of referring to it by name. I wanted to tell him, Hey! It’s not called The Pit for nothing! But sarcastic comebacks would only prolong finding out what happened to Tyler. “A Lyhtan sought me out. Said he wanted to warn me about something. But before he could get the words out, someone nailed him in the back of the head with some serious firepower. Tried for me too. But Tyler took after the guy and scared him off.”
“Did you get a look at the shooter?”
“No.” And I was still pissed off about that.
“The Lyhtan shouldn’t have been so easy to kill. What sort of ammunition did the shooter use?” Raif looked thoughtful as he walked past me into the kitchen. He took up a barstool and rested his elbows on my counter, staring off into space.
“Well, this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill ammo. It was an arrow. The damned thing was thick; the shaft was made from some kind of metal, I think. And it burned. Hot. White-hot. It disintegrated the Lyhtan as well as the bricks it hit instead of my head. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Raif swore under his breath. “Sounds like Fae weaponry to me. It’s hard to say, though. Many factions keep the contents of their arsenals secret.” I raised a brow in question, but Raif just shook his head. “What did the Lyhtan say to you?”
“Nothing that matters. Whoever shot him really didn’t want him talking to me. He didn’t get anything worthwhile out before he was killed.”
Raif’s blue eyes penetrated me with a serious stare. “There’s nothing else? No other details you’ve forgotten to mention?”
I wanted to jump from the accusation but forced my body into stillness. My eyes threatened to wander toward the false wall in my kitchen, to the safe where the emerald pendulum was tucked away. I didn’t know anything about it or the unknown benefactor who’d given it to me. But I did know that something about the mysterious green stone had stilled the pulsing beat of time that never left me. And for now, that was a secret I refused to share with anyone. “Nothing else,” I said. “Now tell me what happened to Ty.”
“Attacked, an hour ago.” Raif’s calm delivery made me want to break something. “Ambushed and nearly killed with iron spikes, but, luckily, his attacker was inept. He called me, and I sent Dimitri to fetch him.”
Raif talked about Tyler as if he were some stray hit by a car. “How bad is he?” I asked, fearful of the answer.
“He’s not going to be running any marathons soon, but he’ll live. We’re bringing him here. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid my brother’s hospitality has worn thin in regard to your lover.”
I snorted. That was the understatement of the century. Xander had tolerated Ty in his home when he’d been nearly killed by the Enphigmalé only because I’d been there and I’d wanted it that way. But Xander hadn’t eased up in his pursuit of me, no matter how fruitless his efforts. Having Tyler in Xander’s home, weakened and defenseless, would not be a good idea. “That’s fine with me,” I said. “I don’t want him at Xander’s anyway. I can take care of him here just as well as anywhere.”
“I thought you’d say that,” he laughed.
Raif’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He brought the phone to his ear with inhuman speed. “Yes,” he answered. “I see…. Of course…Very well…”
Fucking hell! I wanted to know what was going on. Raif’s nonchalant conversation could have been with the pizza delivery guy, for all I knew. It was a damned good thing he’d snapped his phone shut. I’d been considering knocking it out of his hand. “Tyler has requested that he not be brought here.”
Why? The word stalled in my throat. Did he not trust me to take care of him?
“Don’t worry yourself into a heart attack, Darian,” Raif said as if he’d heard my frantic thoughts. “He’s asked to be taken to his penthouse. It seems the security there is better. Not hard to top, really.”
Okay, fine. So my apartment didn’t have the best security. Anyone who had a mind to come up could just hop on the elevator. In the past, the lack of safety hadn’t bothered me. I mean, I’d thought I was unkillable. What did it matter who came up uninvited? But with another near miss in only a couple of days, I could understand Tyler’s decision. I strapped my katana to my back and tucked two throwing knives into my belt before jamming the dagger into the sheath at my thigh. If I was going out, I was going out well armed. “Let’s go,” I said, not waiting to see if Raif followed or not.
Tyler’s penthouse apartment left nothing to be desired. Situated atop the Aspira building, it boasted every technological advancement and top-of-the-line security. Controlled-access parking secured the premises from unwelcome visitors, and the perimeter of the building was monitored by closed-circuit cameras. Tyler left word with the guard station and front desk, allowing us easy access to the apartment. I wanted nothing more than to break from my physical form—the elevator ride was taking forever—but Raif convinced me otherwise, saying that keeping up appearances was more important than a hasty ascent.
“You have no idea what happened?” I asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Like I said”—Raif ran his hands through his hair—“it seems Tyler was a bit occupied with nearly being killed and didn’t have time to go into detail about the attack.”
I bounced impatiently in the elevator, repeatedly pushing the penthouse button on the elevator panel. If we didn’t move any fucking faster, my next move was going to be stabbing the button with one of my knives.
A serene ding! registered low and reverberated before the sleek metal doors slid silently open. From there, a foyer led to the entrance of Tyler’s apartment, and I walked through the door, coming face-to-face with Dimitri.
Anya’s husband held his sword at the ready, easing up only after seeing Raif walk through the door. The comparison between Anya and Dimitri was like night and day. Anya’s hard, leather-clad dominatrix persona seemed even more ridiculous when coupled with Dimitri’s soft, Zen-like appearance. His fawn brown eyes held a depth and sadness that spoke of hardships overcome. Blond hair the color of dishwater brushed his collar in soft waves, framing an eternally youthful, round face with high cheekbones. He sheathed his sword, bowing his head to Raif before addressing us both in a voice slightly accented with his native Russian. “He’s in the bedroom.”
If I could have prepared myself for what I’d see once I walked through the door, I might not have acted so rashly. Anya sat on top of Tyler, straddling his waist, bent over him, his wrists pinned beneath both of her hands. With one fluid motion, I left my physical self, appeared at the side of the bed, and yanked Anya’s long rope of braided hair, propelling her from Tyler into the far wall.
I turned from the bed, intent on ripping her head right off. Raif caught me by the elbow, pulling me close against him while Anya picked her sorry ass up off the floor. “Seriously, what in the hell has gotten into you?” Raif gave me a jerk, and I looked past him at Anya, a red haze of anger preventing me from forming a rational thought. “Darian!” Raif said louder, shaking me soundly. “Look at him! Anya was trying to help!”
One more jaw-rattling shake cleared my mind enough to turn toward the bed. Tyler lay sprawled across its surface, blood staining the light gray coverlet as it seeped from the lacerations made by thin iron rods in his wrists. My eyes roamed farther down, and my breath stilled in my lungs as I noticed a larger iron stake protruding from just above Tyler’s left pec.
“Motherfucker!” I shouted, converging on the bed in a single leap. “Anya, get your bony ass over here and help me!”
“What do you think I was trying to do?” she asked, “Fuck him? Sorry, not my type.”
“Shut up!” I snapped. I did not have time to get into it with her. Tyler was bleeding to death all over his comforter. “How do we get these out without doing any more damage?”
“The stakes are iron,” Dimitri said quietly from the doorway. “Jinn, l
ike Fae, are allergic to iron. They must be removed.”
“No shit,” I said from between clenched teeth. “But I don’t want to hurt him any worse—”
“Darian,” Tyler said, his voice pained with labored breath, “just pull them out.”
“But, Ty.”
“Like a Band-Aid,” he rasped. “Do it quick.”
Anya glared at me but placed one hand on Tyler’s palm, the other just below his wrist. She gave a curt nod, and I wrapped my hands around the rod, took a deep steadying breath—and yanked.
Tyler’s back arched, and he thrashed against us, his jaw set and teeth clenched tight in obvious agony. Dimitri came around the bed with stacks of sterile gauze and rolls of tape, slapping the absorbent pads against the wound before wrapping his wrist with the tape. Anya shifted, secured Tyler’s other hand, and we repeated the process. We allowed Ty a moment to catch his breath, everyone in the room staring at the spike in his chest like a group of kids standing around an arcade game.
I laid my hand against his cheek, my fingers creeping up into his hair and brushing the sweat-dampened, coppery curls from his face. “Are you ready?” I asked.
Tyler tensed beneath me, and Anya shifted, placing her weight squarely on both of his shoulders. “Ready.”
Without steeling myself against the pain I was about to inflict, I pulled—hard—on the stake, and I felt the sickening resistance as it fought to hold on inside his body. Tyler lurched once, and I yanked the stake free. Tyler’s body went slack, sweat beading on his brow, and he lost consciousness.
I reached for my dagger, ready and willing to do for Tyler what I’d already done for him once before. “What do you think you’re doing?” Raif asked, grabbing my hand before I could cut my own wrist.
“Helping Ty! My blood can heal him.”
“Gods, girl.” Raif shook his head, jerking the dagger from my hand. “You needn’t do anything quite so rash. Give him a little time. Now that the iron has been removed, he’ll be fine. His magic will heal him.”
Blood Before Sunrise: A Shaede Assassin Novel Page 7
