Hook: Exiles of the Realm

by Adrienne Bell

  And something else…the familiar cadence of footsteps clipping against the pavement.

  James opened his eyes to see Mercy rounding the corner. He instantly pushed up from his lounging position.

  Wow. She hadn’t been lying. She hadn’t needed his help with a dress. Not at all.

  She was draped in blue and white. The fabric crossed over her beautifully rounded breasts and wrapped around her waist, stopping just above her knee. Her hair was different too. No longer pulled back, the cascade of chestnut waves hung loosely around her shoulders, framing her face.

  James’ lips parted. He drew in a sharp breath at the sight, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d seen more revealing clothing. Hell, he knew women who didn’t see the point of wearing anything at all, but for some reason the sight of Mercy in a simple summer dress with her hair down and her skin flushed from walking was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  Her expression became guarded as she stopped in front of him. Her gaze flickered back and forth between him and the house.

  “Your friends live in an impressive neighborhood,” she said without greeting.

  He shrugged. “It’s just a house.”

  “The hell it is,” she said with a tense laugh. “You didn’t tell me the party was at the Keswick mansion.”

  “Would it have mattered?”

  “No.” She bit into her lower lip as she gave the three-story house another glance. “Maybe. I would have picked out a nicer dress.”

  “That would have been impossible. You look…stunning.” She shot him a look that said she didn’t quite believe him, even as a hint of pink lit up her cheeks. He offered her his arm. “Shall we go in?”

  “I guess we should.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, grasping him tight. She tucked herself up against him as they walked through the gate and toward the front door, close enough for her hip to brush against his.

  James smiled at the contact, but one glance at Mercy showed that she wasn’t enjoying herself the same way. Her whole face was tense. Her mouth was a flat, tight line. Little wrinkles creased her forehead. Her whole body stiffened as they stepped up to the guard at the front door and James handed over their invitation.

  It was almost cute to see her this way—nervous and out of her element. Every other time he’d been with her, she’d been so confident and self-assured. But now she was obviously afraid she didn’t belong.

  James didn’t like the thought. A woman like Mercy belonged wherever she went, whether she was with him or not. She just needed something else to think about. Something she was proud of. Something that would make her smile the way she had two nights ago.

  “How did your paper turn out?” he asked, guiding her through the opulent front rooms of the massive house.

  “Fine,” she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Honestly, I’m surprised that you remembered.”

  “It seemed important to you.” James slid his hand over hers as they moved through the kitchen—intentionally steering her away from the spot where he’d snapped the three men’s necks—and out the back door.

  Mercy’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, but not to you.”

  He let out a laugh, loud enough to turn a few heads as they entered the garden. It certainly hadn’t taken her long to figure him out.

  “Every now and again, I’ve been known to take an interest in someone other than myself,” he said.

  “Hmmm…” A skeptical twinkle shone in her eyes.

  James led her over to an empty spot along the railing and looked out over the crowd. But her grip on his arm didn’t loosen. If anything, it intensified.

  Her gaze swept over the fifty people or so scattered throughout the Keswick’s garden. “I don’t see any of your friends from the restaurant here,” she said.

  “Don’t worry.” James covered her hand with his. His fingers traced little circles over her warm, soft skin. He felt a rush of immense satisfaction as her tense grip on him eased. “They weren’t invited.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Mercy’s shoulders fell.

  James leaned a bent elbow against the iron railing and openly gazed at Mercy’s beautiful face. “Are you afraid of them?”

  She tossed her head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  He would. He could see the sliver of fear shining bright as day in her eyes just at the memory of them all together.

  “You should be,” he said. “They’re dangerous.”

  “Really?” she said, turning toward him. Her fingers moved as well, interlacing with his. “How dangerous?”

  “Exceedingly.” Beyond anything her world had ever known.

  “So,” her eyes narrowed, “why are they your friends?”

  James cocked his head to the side. He raised his free hand to let his fingers trace the bottom swirls of her dangling hair.

  “Because I’m just as dangerous.”

  Mercy blinked at his answer. At least half a dozen expressions flashed over her face in a matter of seconds—from confusion to concern—before she finally settled on a wry smile.

  “Don’t tease me,” she said.

  “I’m not.”

  The honest truth was enough to coax a laugh out of her. The sound was open and lovely, every bit as warm as the sunlight falling on his face.

  “Nice line, but you’re not fooling me,” Mercy said, her smile widening. “Dangerous men aren’t polite to other people’s grandmothers.”

  “Is that right?”

  “It is.” She tilted her head, letting her curls dance over his fingers. “And they sure as hell don’t care who’s watching from peepholes when they try to kiss someone.”

  “So many rules I never knew,” he joked. “It seems I’ve been doing this all wrong.”

  Another laugh. This one came with a half-hearted eye roll. “Well, that’s because you’re confusing being dangerous with being a major pain in the ass.”

  “A pain in the ass?” a feminine voice behind him called out. “Somebody must be talking about James.”

  James straightened and shifted back against the railing. A familiar redhead stood just a few feet behind him, a looming giant by her side. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the pair sneaking up on him.

  Then again, it also wasn’t like him to get so distracted by a bright smile and a heavenly laugh.

  “Mercedes Herrera,” James said, nodding to their hosts. “Allow me to introduce you to the couple of honor, Charlie Keswick and Bowie Tamatoa.”

  “Congratulations on your engagement.” Mercy’s smile stiffened as she held out her hand, but her tension all but disappeared a moment later, when Charlie ignored the handshake, and instead, pulled Mercy into a hug.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you,” Charlie said, holding on for another two full seconds before letting her go.

  “I-It’s nice to meet you too,” Mercy said, her expression stunned from the overly friendly greeting, but at least she didn’t look nervous anymore. Nothing like a Charlie Keswick hello to make someone feel like they belonged. “James seems to have a lot of interesting friends.”

  “We’re not friends,” Bowie was quick to say.

  Mercy’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

  Charlie jabbed her elbow into her fiancé’s side, but the big guy didn’t even wince.

  “Ignore him,” Charlie said. “Bowie has one of those dry senses of humor.”

  Bowie’s brows pulled together as he looked down at his bride-to-be. “I wasn’t joking.”

  “What he means is it’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Charlie charged ahead. “We all are. I have to admit, we started buzzing the moment you walked in.”

  Little crinkles appeared over Mercy’s nose. “Why?”

  “It’s not every day James shows up with a girl on his arm.”

  Mercy shot her a skeptical look. “Really?”

  “That part’s true,” Bowie said.

  “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not that interesting.” Mercy gave a little laug
h. “Besides, James and I are just friends.”

  Friends?

  Was she softening towards him? Or was she just being polite in front of strangers?

  “Yeah, I’m not buying it, Miss Herrera.” Charlie’s keen gaze narrowed. “There’s way more to this story.”

  “Please, call me Mercy.”

  James crossed his arms. “She gets to call you Mercy? Just like that?”

  “Of course,” Mercy said with a wink. “I like her.”

  “But you love me,” he shot back.

  “The hell I do.”

  Charlie’s smile only grew. “Not interesting, my ass,” she said, before shooting James a pointed glare. “And you don’t get to complain about names, Mister You’ll Never Uncover My Last Name.”

  “Wait,” Mercy said. “These people are your friends—”

  “Not my friend,” Bowie interjected.

  “—and they don’t even know your last name?”

  “Wait. You do?” Charlie asked, her eyes so wide they looked like they might pop out of her head. “Oh my God, we’ve been trying to figure it out for months. Tell me. What is it?”

  “She’s not going to tell you,” James said.

  “I’m not?”

  “No,” he said with all the confidence in the world.

  “Why’s that?” Mercy asked.

  “Because, like you said, we’re friends,” he answered. “And because if you don’t I’ll get you a glass of champagne. Call it a hunch, but I’m going to guess they’re not serving the cheap stuff.”

  “He’s right,” Bowie said.

  “Sorry.” Mercy gave the other woman an apologetic smile.

  A devilish gleam lit up in Charlie’s eyes. “Why settle for a glass when I could get you a whole bottle, Mercy?”

  James should have known Charlie would never give up that easily.

  “A whole bottle of what?” another feminine voice asked, one James hadn’t heard in a long time. He glanced to his side to see Charlie’s mother, Mrs. Keswick approaching their little group. His eyes were drawn straight to the broach pinned to her cream-colored dress.

  The priceless piece of gold and green antique dragonfly jewelry glistened in the sunlight. Except emerald and glass wasn’t what made the delicate wings of the pin shimmer. That glitter was nothing this world had ever seen.

  Wyvern scales.

  No wonder the French jeweler whose hands they’d fallen into had been obsessed with creating a piece that was worthy of the magical relics. The scales weren’t just beautiful. They were powerful beyond measure.

  And that broach was the whole reason he was here. James had been working on a replica for the pin since he’d first come across the piece in the Keswick house months ago. He’d known Charlie’s engagement party would give him the perfect opportunity to switch the two out without creating a scene.

  Of course, he hadn’t planned on Mrs. Keswick wearing the piece.

  Not that it mattered. He’d picked plenty of pockets on the fly. This was no different.

  “Excuse me,” James said, giving the woman his most charming smile as he brushed past her. “Please forgive my clumsiness.”

  He brought his hand up to steady her shoulder, as his other fingers went to work. He was done in a flash. He slid the copy on the moment the scales slid off. Mrs. Keswick would never know what happened. Neither would anyone else.

  James palmed the real relic, pushing it into a hidden pocket in his jacket sleeve. He relished the wave of satisfaction rolling over him. It was all coming together. He had what he’d come for.

  Well, maybe not everything.

  The crowd of Macmillan Security grew around Mercy as he waited for the bartender to fill two crystal flutes. She lifted her head, and their gaze met. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

  Of course, there was plenty of evening left.

  Mercy ducked her head the moment her cheeks started burning. What was she doing flirting with James? Hell, what was she doing at a fancy garden party on Billionaire’s Row? She hardly recognized her life right now.

  Fortunately, the group of people around her were more than happy to talk so she didn’t have to. Charlie had introduced them so quickly that Mercy had jumbled their names. The important thing was that they all worked at the same place—a private security firm in the city.

  Mercy had just started to recover from her embarrassment when she felt a strong hand slip around the curve of her waist. The gesture went way beyond friendly, but Mercy didn’t fight James’ embrace. There was something about being tucked up against him that just felt…right. He dipped his head down to her ear as he pressed a delicate flute of champagne into her hand.

  “Are all these strangers making you uncomfortable?” he whispered.

  “A little,” she confessed.

  “Come on then,” he said. “I know what will make you feel better.”

  James had just snuck them both back a step when Bowie’s booming voice stopped them. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Every head turned their way, but James didn’t even blink.

  “Over to the balcony,” he said.

  Mercy swallowed as the big man’s dark glower grew even more suspicious. “To do what?”

  “To gaze out over the view. To drink champagne. To spend a little time alone with my date.” James let out a laugh. “Honestly, Bowie, I fear for poor Charlie’s future if I need to define romance to you.”

  Everyone in the group laughed as James turned her around and started walking away. Mercy waited until they were halfway across the garden before she looked up to him and said, “Was that really a good idea?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Taunting that man,” she said.

  James chuckled and pulled her even closer. “You don’t have to worry about Bowie.”

  “You sure about that?” Mercy asked, stealing a quick glance over her shoulder. “Because I’m pretty sure he could rip both our heads off without breaking a sweat.”

  “There’s no way Bowie would win a fight with me,” James said, sounding far too certain. “What’s more, he’d never even try.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because three months ago, I saved his life.”

  James stopped in front of a white marble balcony that looked over a stunning view of the city.

  Mercy was so astounded by his answer that her mouth hung open as he slid his hand from her waist and cocked his hip against the smooth stone ledge.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped. “What happened?”

  “Nothing interesting,” he said. “There were men trying to kill him. I stopped them.”

  “Wait. You don’t think that’s interesting?” Mercy’s brows pulled together as she tried to figure out if he was putting her on. She couldn’t tell. His expression was serious enough, but that constant devilish twinkle shone in his eye.

  “Not particularly,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ll tell you what I do find fascinating—your sudden concern for my well-being.”

  Mercy rolled her eyes. She should have known better than to take him seriously.

  “I wouldn’t read too much into that,” she said.

  “I would,” he countered, his smile growing even bolder. “You’ve gone from threatening to throw me under a bus to worrying about brutes tearing me asunder.”

  Mercy turned away from the full force of his charm and rested both of her arms on the wall. Unfortunately, the change of scenery didn’t do much to cool the sparks of desire flaring up inside her. The view was every bit as romantic as James had hinted. The whole city sprawled before her, all the way down to the glistening bay.

  “Yeah, well…” she started. “Turns out you’re something of an acquired taste.”

  “Like fine scotch?”

  “More like canned anchovies,” she teased.

  He gave another laugh and scooted closer, moving in so his hip pressed against hers. “You’re lying. I’m growing on you. Admit it.”

 
The hell she would. Even though it was true.

  A part of her wanted to blame all her feelings on those sparkling blue eyes of his. They had a way of sweeping her up. Of convincing her to say things she usually kept private. Of coercing her to say yes to things she normally wouldn’t consider.

  Except, deep down, Mercy knew it wasn’t his eyes. Sure, they were gorgeous, captivating scapegoats, but scapegoats all the same. The truth was there wasn’t one piece of James that called to her more than any other. She just liked him. All of him. Even the parts that drove her crazy. It didn’t make much sense, but it was true.

  And she was far from the only one. Half the women at this party were obviously enamored with him. It had only taken Mrs. Keswick a couple of words to fall for his charm. Even the men seemed to have a healthy amount of respect for him.

  The man was a puzzle. One, Mercy realized, that she had a strong desire to solve.

  “Why didn’t you tell your friends your last name?” she asked, twirling the long stem of her glass between her fingers.

  “Because they’d ask too many questions if they knew,” he answered without hesitation. “They’d keep digging for answers they wouldn’t be able to handle.”

  “But I would?” she asked.

  James raised his hand to the side of her face and gently traced the back of his fingers down her cheek. Despite her best intentions, she leaned into his touch.

  “The more I get to know you, Mercy Herrera, the more certain I am that there’s nothing you couldn’t handle.”

  A long breath slipped out between Mercy’s lips. Why did his voice have to sound so honest? What was it about his lilting accent that wrapped around her and drew her in? Made her want to forget herself completely?

  Because that was exactly what his words were doing.

  Mercy lifted her glass and took a sip. The delightful taste of chilled champagne washed over her tongue, the finest she’d ever tasted. The soft bubbles were every bit as intoxicating as the man at her side. Mix it all together with the view and everything about the moment was perfect. Almost too perfect.

  As if he had planned it.

  “James,” she said, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye. She found his gaze fixed firmly on her face. “Are you trying to seduce me?”