3013: OUTLAW (3013: The Series Book 14)

by Kali Argent

  Jorkin’s head snapped to the side from the blow, but he jerked back to glare at her just as quickly, his hand flashing through the air before either Slade or Bastian could stop him. The sound of his open palm meeting Isla’s cheek cracked through the club, followed swiftly by her sharp gasp and Jorkin’s angry snarl.

  Slade didn’t stop to think. He just reacted. White-hot fury consumed him, burning away everything else as he grabbed the hand that had dared to cause his mate harm, and jerked it clean from its socket. Blood sprayed across the sofa and splattered against Slade’s chest, but he barely noticed. Jorkin screamed, stumbling backwards, his face a mask of horror as he stared at the stump where his arm had been.

  “Oh!” Isla yelped, jumping back and slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my god. Oh, my fucking god.” Her breaths came in short, shallow pants, and she grabbed Bastian’s arm, trying to push him forward. “Bas, do something!”

  “What?” his brother asked. “It’ll grow back.” He glanced over his shoulder at the security guards headed their way, cursed under his breath, then left to head them off before they could reach the stage.

  Dropping the appendage to the floor, Slade grabbed the Reema by the throat, pressing his extended claws into the delicate flesh until a steady trickle of crimson streamed down Jorkin’s neck to stain the collar of his white shirt. Growling and snarling, consumed by his rage, Slade lifted the asshole off the ground, holding him suspended in the air.

  “Slade, don’t kill him.”

  Isla approached with caution, and it killed Slade to realize she was afraid of him. He could only imagine what he looked like to her—covered in blood, eyes blazing red, unfazed by his own violence. She must think him a monster.

  “Isla, it’s okay.” He didn’t release his hold on the Reema, but he did lower him to the floor. “I’d never hurt you.”

  She smiled, though her bottom lip wobbled a little. “I know.” Coming to a stop beside him, she touched his forearm, stroking the veins that pulsed beneath his skin. “If you kill him, though, he can’t tell me who killed my mom.”

  “You’re not…you’re not afraid?”

  Isla’s button nose wrinkled, and her eyebrows drew together. “You just ripped a guy’s arm off for me. Why would I be afraid of you?”

  Her unending faith in him spread warmth through his chest, giving Slade the control he needed to calm himself. For weeks, he’d pushed her away at every turn, shut her out, and still, she never faltered, never stopped loving him, and she did love him. He could feel it clearer and stronger than any physical connection. He recognized it, because it was the same emotion that had coiled around his heart, the same sense of belonging, of yearning, he felt every time she walked into a room.

  “Slade?” She continued to caress his arm. “Love, he’s turning blue.”

  Calm enough to think rationally again, Slade eased his grip just enough for the Reema to gasp in a great lungful of oxygen. “Tell her what she wants to know, or next time, I rip off something that doesn’t grow back.”

  “Like this?”

  Surprising Slade for the third time that night, Isla grabbed Jorkin between his legs and squeezed until the Reema’s eyes bulged and the blood drained from his face.

  “Okay,” he squeaked. “Okay. I’ll tell you.”

  Isla didn’t release him, but she tilted her head to the side, pushing her ear toward him mockingly. “Yes? I’m listening.”

  When he didn’t answer right away, she squeezed again and turned her wrist sharply at the same time.

  “Wraith!” the Reema wailed. “Her name is Wraith. That’s all I know.”

  “How do we find her?” Slade asked, shaking Jorkin like a rag doll.

  “I don’t know. I swear! I’ve never met her.”

  Slade tightened his fingers around the asshole’s throat again. “Sorry. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “I don’t know,” Jorkin insisted, his words strangled as she clawed at Slade’s wrist. “I send a message to a private server and wire the credits to a children’s charity fund.”

  “That’s disgusting.” Isla literally spat on the floor. “Who put out the bounty for me?”

  Jorkin shook his head as much as Slade’s grasp would allow. “It came from an anonymous account. That’s all I know.”

  Looking to Isla to see if she was satisfied with the answers, Slade scowled when he spotted Knox running toward them.

  “We have to go,” he panted when he reached them. “The commanders. They just walked through the door.” He jerked his head to the left. “Hurry, out the back.”

  “Bas!” Slade called, jerking his thumb toward the exit.

  Bastian nodded once, ducked a right hook from a Reema security guard, and delivered a solid back kick to the male’s torso, sending him flying into the table behind him.

  Reluctantly, Slade released his grip on Jorkin’s throat. “If I have to come back here, you’re not going to find me so forgiving. Do we understand each other?”

  Without waiting for a response—mostly because he hadn’t expected one—he swept Isla into his arms, surrounding her protectively as he marched past the bloodstained sofa and kicked open the flimsy wooden door that led into an alley behind the warehouse. Knox followed right on his heels, holding the door open so Bastian could sprint into the alley behind them.

  “Guys?”

  Isla’s face paled, and she began to tremble in Slade’s arms. “I think that might have been a little too much excitement.”

  She’d been so brave in the moment, fierce even, but with her adrenaline ebbing, shock had begun to take hold. Again, Slade cursed himself for ever letting her leave the sanctuary in the first place.

  “Just breathe,” he coached. “In through your nose.” He inhaled deeply, demonstrating. “Out through your mouth.” He breathed with her a couple of more times as he carried her through the alley to the back of the building where they’d left their shuttle. “That’s it. Keep breathing. Good.”

  “What the hell is that?” Bastian asked, pointing to the shiny, chrome box in Knox’s hand.

  “I was trying to access Jorkin’s files, including his client list.” He climbed into the shuttle behind them and set the coordinates for Haven. “I saw Isla’s stepdads on the security feed, so I yanked the hard drive and got the hell out of there.”

  Bastian grinned, clapping his brother on the back. “Good thinking. What do you think is on there?”

  “Slade?” Isla whispered from Slade’s lap while Knox and Bastian theorized about the contents of the hard drive.

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.” She turned, curling into him, and sighed.

  He didn’t need to ask why she was thanking him, and he could think of only one response to give.

  “Always.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Despite having nearly killed someone to avenge her, once they’d arrived back at Haven, Slade had retreated into himself again. For the past three days, he’d spent a lot of time in the break room, or the smaller bedroom of their suite, and he rarely joined them for meals.

  He was driving Isla crazy.

  It was Christmas Eve, and Sadayka had closed the restaurant and the downstairs bar for the evening. The Storm Rider’s entire crew had joined them to help her celebrate, and she’d be damned if she was going to let Slade’s bad mood ruin the holiday for her.

  “Cord, if you eat all the popcorn, we’re not going to have enough to put on the tree.” She chuckled, threading a fluffy kernel as Cord shoved another handful into his mouth. “I mean it.”

  “But I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry.”

  Much like her mates, Sadayka and most of the crew didn’t understand how putting shiny balls on a dead tree was supposed to be festive. That didn’t stop them from getting drunk and decorating every inch of the restaurant, though. By the time they’d finished, it looked like a snow globe had exploded in the room. A giant evergreen stood sentinel over the procee
dings, decorated to bursting with everything from light bulbs to painted rocks.

  Isla hadn’t the heart to tell them that wasn’t exactly what she’d meant when she’d said they needed lights for the tree.

  No one had been able to find a star to place at the top, but Kylir had fashioned a bow out of one of the curtains, much to Sadayka’s annoyance. It was lopsided, and it obscured most of the other decorations, but Isla just smiled and told him it was perfect. After all, it was the intent that mattered, not the outcome.

  She’d tried to teach Cord to string popcorn with a plastic needle and sewing thread, just like her mom had taught her, but he hadn’t understood why they were wasting perfectly good food.

  “I give up.” Isla tossed her hands into the air and sighed when both Kylir and Knox reached into the bowl to grab big handfuls of popcorn.

  “Relax.” Sauntering over to her side, Knox leaned sideways to bump their shoulders together. “This is supposed to be fun, right?”

  “Right,” she answered, but she felt more like she was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

  The confrontation at Iniquity had left her shaken, and she’d been simultaneously proud of and appalled at her behavior. She’d never struck someone before, and while she didn’t hope to repeat the experience, she’d decided that Jorkin had deserved it. To him, her mother might have just been a transaction, more credits in his pocket, but that didn’t make it right.

  Isla had been so angry to hear the Reema casually dismiss her mother’s murder. She’d never felt fury like that, and she hoped she never did again. It had been exhilarating, but also terrifying, because she’d had no control over her actions. Driven by the most primordial of instincts, she’d been little more than a wild beast, wanting Haldar Jorkin to feel every ounce of pain she did.

  Of course, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. If she had, maybe she would have expected the blow that came next and been able to dodge it in time. At the time, high on her rage, she’d barely felt it, but by the time they’d made it back to the sanctuary, the entire side of her face had ached like the ten shades of hell. Thankfully, it hadn’t bruised, and the tenderness had already passed, because she didn’t think she could take another second of Knox and Bastian hovering.

  “Who wants cookies?” Sadayka called, exiting the kitchen with a tray of star-shaped sugar cookies with green and red frosting.

  “I do!” Jumping up from the floor, Cord abandoned the popcorn—and Isla—and toddled over to the nearest chair, climbing up in it to get closer to the sweets. Looking up at Sadayka, he tucked his hands under his little chin and batted his lashes. “Please can I have all the cookies?”

  Everyone in the room laughed, and the sound filled Isla with joy. This was what Christmas had always been about to her. Not presents or pretty baubles. It was about being with the people she loved.

  “You can certainly have a cookie, but you have to share,” Sadayka told him, lowering the silver tray so that he could select his own.

  “Yeah,” Kylir agreed, “you have to share.”

  Cord thought about this for a long time, looking between the tray of cookies and Kylir. Then he picked up four cookies, handed one to the pilot, and kept the other three. Jumping down from the chair, he giggled like mad as he took off across the room, headed straight for Bastian with Kylir chasing after him.

  “Baba, help! Ah!” He laughed so hard his nose scrunched and his face turned red. “Baba!”

  Scooping him up, Bastian settled the kid on his hip and growled playfully at Kylir. “You leave him alone. You can’t have his cookies.”

  Quick as lightening, he snatched one of the cookies from Cord’s hands and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. Cord gasped, his eyes comically wide and his mouth opened in a little O.

  Still sitting on the floor, Isla giggled at their antics, and when Knox joined them, stealing another one of the cookies, she laughed even harder. In her heart, though, she knew it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t complete. She’d promised that she wouldn’t let Slade ruin her evening, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Instead of being angry with him, though, she was sad. Not for herself, but for Slade, for whatever had happened in his life that made him feel like he didn’t deserve to be loved.

  “Sadayka, can I get a couple of those cookies?”

  “You want a plate?”

  Rising to her feet, Isla brushed her backside and smoothed the front of her simple, black dress. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

  That’s what she liked about Sadayka. The female didn’t ask questions.

  Her friend carried the tray to the back of the room and reached over the bar to retrieve a small, white saucer. She placed two cookies on it—one with green icing and one with red—and passed the plate to Isla with a knowing smile.

  “Good luck.”

  “Thank you.” She had a feeling she was going to need it.

  Holding the plate in both hands, she headed toward the door on the other side of the bar that led to the common area used by the staff during their breaks. It was where Knox had set up the data units they’d taken from her house, and he’d borrowed another one from Sadayka so he could attach the hard drive he’d swiped from Jorkin. So far, he hadn’t had found much on any of them, but he was hopeful, and far more patient than her.

  Steeling herself, she pasted on a bright smile and pushed the door of the break room open. Slade sat at the desk in the corner, his shoulders rounded, holding his face in both hands. He didn’t react to her entrance, but when she said his name, he parted his hands just far enough to speak.

  “What is it, tava?”

  Confused by the unfamiliar word, Isla tilted her head to the side, her lips turning down at the corners. She wanted to ask him what it meant, but he’d sounded so defeated, she couldn’t bring herself to cause him any more stress.

  Silently, she crossed the room and placed the cookies on the desk beside his elbows. She lingered for a moment, but when she couldn’t think of anything to say, she simply leaned in and placed a soft kiss against his temple.

  “Merry Christmas.” She combed her fingers through his short, dark hair and sighed. “It’s traditional to give gifts for the holiday, but since I’m broke, the only thing I have to give you is my heart. I hope one day you’ll be willing to accept it.” Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she bent once more, resting her brow against the top of his head, and whispered in his hear, “I love you.”

  That was it. It was the only thing she had left to offer. She just hoped it would be enough.

  He didn’t stop her when she straightened and turned to leave. At the door, she took one last look over her shoulder and smiled. He was trying to fight her, fight himself, but the walls he’d built around his heart were finally crumbling. She could feel it—the warmth, the desire, the longing he tried to hide. More importantly, she could feel the link between them growing stronger, solidifying.

  Standing in the open doorway, her fingers curled around the doorknob, she took a chance and asked, “What did that word mean?”

  Slade dropped his hands from his face and finally looked at her. “Which word?”

  Her heart pounded and her stomach fluttered at the intensity of his gaze. “What you called me. Tava? Did I say that right?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  For some reason, his dismissal affected her more than she thought it would. In fact, it made her angry. Leaning her head out the door, she called Bastian’s name.

  “What?” he called back, his voice muffled through the walls.

  “What does tava mean?”

  The main dining hall exploded into laughter and cheers, and it took several seconds for him to answer her. “Alpha mate!”

  “Oh, really?” she murmured, walking back into the room and closing the door behind her. “It’s nothing, though, right? Nothing at all.”

  “Isla, I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Well, too damn bad.” Marching over to the desk, she splayed her palms
across the top of it and leaned in until their faces were just inches apart. “What’s it going to take, Slade? What do I have to do to prove that I’m not going anywhere? I love you, and no matter how much of an ass you are, you’re not going to change that.”

  He stared at her, unmoving, unblinking.

  “Say something, damn it!”

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he tangled both hands in her hair and slanted their mouths together in a kiss that set her on fire. He devoured her, plunging his tongue between her gasping lips to explore the depths of her mouth. His chest vibrated when he growled, and the flick of his tongue turned lazy, teasing, coaxing a response from her.

  “Be damn sure,” he rasped. “If I claim you, I’m never letting you go.”

  “Slade, whether you claim me or not, I’m not going anywhere.” Through their connection, she could feel the real source of his warning, and her heart swelled until she feared it would burst. “You’re never going to lose me. I’m never going to stop loving you.”

  Untangling his fingers from her hair, he grabbed her hips and jerked her into his lap, covering her mouth in another kiss that set her blood boiling. He wasn’t gentle with her, quite the contrary, but she loved every second of it. She’d never felt so desired, so needed, and as his calloused palms slid up the top of her thighs under her dress, she trembled against him.

  She loved him. Slade had known it, he’s sensed it back at Iniquity—and long before that if he was being honest with himself—but it was something entirely different to hear her say it. Stars, he didn’t deserve her. More to the point, she deserved so much better than him.

  “I’m no good for you, tava. I’m impatient, short-tempered, and stubborn.”

  Her lips curved, and she sighed in contentment as she pressed their foreheads together. “Tell me something I don’t know, but I’ll be the judge of what’s good for me or not. I say you’re definitely good for me.”

  He didn’t know how to be gentle, not even with her. He’d spent his life fighting for everything he had, and his first instinct was always to hit first and ask questions later. Romance was not in his vocabulary, but he wanted that for her. He wanted her to have everything her heart desired.