by JL Madore
She stepped over to the refreshment table and poured herself a glass of water. The clean liquid ran down her throat but had no effect on her chilled insides. “For better or worse, those weapons are my responsibility. I must find out who the buyer is and what plans he or she has for them.”
Dougal poured himself a glass of wine and sipped from the glass. “Call Kyrian. He and his Nephilim brothers-in-arms have patrolled this city for centuries. They’ll know who’s in that warehouse.”
“I shall speak with him tonight, of course, but since he’s busy finding his missing warrior brother, we shall gather what information we can ourselves. Take me to the warehouse.”
Dougal scowled and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Forgive me if I overstep, Mistress, but Ravage and I can take turns watching the warehouse. If you speak to Kyrian when he returns, I’m sure tonight will be soon enough. I don’t like the idea of you out on streets we don’t know, and I am certain your husband would like it even less.”
Cassi reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You worry too much, old man. We’ll just find out what we can and report back to Kyrian. Besides. I’m Stryker’s daughter. I can take care of myself if the need arises.”
Ronnie’s entire body shook. She wasn’t so much sitting as unable to stand and trembling in a heap at her desk. The three most terrifying men she’d ever seen just launched into her loft and executed the first three men. It had taken them seconds. Literally seconds. And they hadn’t batted an eye.
“Coffee Girl,” the one with the long hair said.
“Ronnie,” the second man said.
“Ronnie,” he corrected. “You’re good now. Come on out and we’ll sort through this mess.”
That broke through her panic and she let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, as if.”
She reached a shaky finger to the controls and scanned through the other screens. There were more of them outside. Four. Five. Six . . . oh gawd.
“Ronnie, what’s happening?” her father shouted on the phone. She’d forgotten about him.
She zoomed in on the two soldiers by the parked truck outside and leaned closer to the screen. Was it— “Hold on, Dad, I think the cavalry is here.”
“Who’s there? My guys haven’t even left the ground.” She could hear the wheeze building in his voice.
“Calm down, Daddy. Take a deep breath and give me a second to figure this out.”
“You forget who gives the orders in this family, missy. You stay locked away as long as you can. I’m coming to bring you straight home.”
She shook her head as if that would do anything. “Honestly, Dad, let me figure out what’s going on and I’ll call you back.”
“Don’t you dare drop this call, Ronnie. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you. All of Toronto hears you, now hush a moment while I talk to the men outside.” Strangely, having him yell at her, settled her nerves. “Dude with the hair, the camera is above the clock on the living room wall.”
The leader in leather turned and raised his palm in a half wave. “My name is Zander. You did real good locking down, Ronnie. My wife had to do that a few months ago and I know how it rattled her. What you need to do now, is come out. You can trust me.”
“Listen here, chisel chest. I didn’t just drop off the turnip truck. Trust is for fools and dead pharaohs.”
The man’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase. You didn’t, by chance, hear our friend Danel say that, did you?”
Danel, huh, that seemed so benign for Tall, Dark and Dangerous. “And you’re Zander?”
He nodded. “Zander Ambrose.”
“And I bet your friends call you Z.”
“As a matter of fact, they do.”
She thought through her options. She couldn’t stay in her bedroom forever and they didn’t look like they were going anywhere. They were Danel’s friends, right? She could trust them, couldn’t she? “Call in the two big and brawny boys out by that truck. I’ll come out when they’re outside my door.”
Zander looked surprised but nodded to the one that looked like a gorgeous blond star from Vikings. A moment later, the twins she’d seen with Danel at the coffee shop strode in and Zander pointed at her door.
It was them, right? It looked like them. How many six-foot-six twin soldiers could there be in downtown Toronto?
With her heart beating up in her throat, she released the lockdown and opened the door.
It amazed her, not for the first time, how bloody death was. Or at least a violent death. Images of things she’d left behind belched up in her mind. Things she didn’t want to remember.
Things she couldn’t bear to remember.
The bloodbath that tainted her loft had her head spinning. Weak-kneed, she staggered forward and hugged the chatty twin. Everything was going to be fine. She had to believe that. Strong arms came around her and held her up.
“How is it that Seth always gets the girl?” the Viking asked.
“’Cause I’m fucking fabulous,” he said over her head. He was a solid foot and a half taller than she was and three times as wide. “I tell you assholes that, but you don’t listen.”
“Yeah,” Zander snorted. “You’re a fucking delight.”
“Haters.”
Danel set down the bag of fast food and examined the scarlet smear on the door to the loft. Blood. Still slick. Still fresh. He breathed deep and his heart rate slowed, his surroundings coming into sharp focus. Two strange vehicles sat tucked in the alley. The Tahoe with the broken headlamp also had a dented hood. If the bastards who’d run him over had come for another run at Ronnie . . . the darkness inside him roared in fury.
The streak of possessiveness that burned through his cells was nothing he could control.
That woman was his . . . to protect.
The screech of the steel door wouldn’t allow for a silent entrance, but he’d give whoever was in there the fight of his life. He’d been gone for hours. Plenty of time for men to hurt or violate her—a growl rumbled from the deepest part of him.
The thought of men laying hands on her fueled his fury.
He drew his 9-millimeter and grabbed the door. On a run, he launched, flipped over the couch, backhanded one intruder with long hair in the face, and pressed his gun to the forehead of the one holding Ronnie.
“Get your filthy hands off her and back the fuck off. Do it.”
He forced his body between Ronnie and the rest of the room, shielding her from five massive men. The two matching muscled mountains backed off and he gestured with his gun for them to step over to the biker with the hair.
Ronnie gripped his arm and the tremble in her hands made him lose his fucking mind. “Who hurt you, Ronnie? Which one? Tell me, and I swear they’ll pay.”
“I’m fine—”
The biker with the hair licked his bloody lip and glared. “Are you drunk, Persian?”
D panned his aim, side-to-side, watching, gauging the five. Fuck, they were a mean-looking bunch, their skin covered with ink. A shared expression of idiotic confusion bounced around the room, but he didn’t give two shits. Let them stare.
“He doesn’t remember you,” Ronnie said. She came around to his chest and cupped his jaw. He tried to keep his focus on the others, but she forced him to look at her. “Remember the twins I told you about? Your friends?” She tilted her head to the two banded in muscle. “That’s them.”
“Seth and Phoenix,” said the one who’d held Ronnie.
“And you remember when Z called you and your phone died? That is Zander.” She looked over at biker boy who gave him a middle-fingered salute.
A sixth man came through the door and Danel stiffened.
“Hold up, Cop,” Zander said, raising a hand. “Danel’s having a moment. Give us a sec.”
“What kind of a moment,” the new guy said, striding in like he owned the place. “Don’t fucking point that gun at me, D. Drop your aim, motherfucker.”
�
�His hamster’s loose,” Seth said. “Got beaned one too many times in the noggin’ or something.”
The newcomer with the turquoise eye glared. “D, what did I tell you about that fucking gun?”
“Lower your aim, my brother,” Zander said, his voice calm. “Don’t piss off Colt.”
“No shit, Persian,” Seth said. “Colt’s dark side is an asshole like no other. Seriously.”
“Aww, that’s sweet, Seth. I heart you too.” Colt made the symbol of a heart with his fingers, and Danel didn’t know what to think. Were these men crazy? They didn’t seem to realize he had a weapon trained on them and wouldn’t think twice about killing any of them if they looked at him sideways.
“Enough stand-up routine,” Zander said. “Ronnie, you’re not safe here. Pack your things. Seth and Phoenix, you boys wipe down the Tahoe and dump it. Bo, take Colt out and give him the rundown on what he missed. Colt, we’ll be out of here in ten. We’d appreciate a cleanup crew to make it like we were never here. I’ll double their usual fee if it’s done before nightfall. I don’t like the exposure on this one. You feel me?”
As people moved off, Danel stiffened. “Hey, assholes, I didn’t say you could leave.”
Seth snorted. “No, Z did, and he’s our commander, whether you’ve blocked that out or not. Actually, you probably blocked that out even before the bat cracking.”
Danel took a long, hard look at Zander and something flickered in the back of his mind. From out of nowhere, his adrenaline kicked in and filled him with an impulse to kill. It was malignant. A festering hatred so raw, it actually made him queasy. He held the stare, stomaching the nausea as a spearing pain ignited in his head.
He blinked and the guy had wings. Massive. Fucking. Ebony. Wings. “What the fuck are you?”
“She’s going over,” the blond called.
Danel caught Ronnie as she crumpled. He stood, in an awkward lurch, unsure what to do.
“Put the gun away and tend to the woman,” Zander said.
With a curse, he tucked his gun so he could pick her up.
“Ronnie! Answer me, goddammit!” Zander retrieved Ronnie’s phone from the floor and took the convo outside.
Danel scooped her up against his chest and carried her to the couch as the other one with wings came over.
“Let me take a look at her.” The guy stared at him, his pale green eyes widening. “Screw the growl, D. I won’t hurt her.”
Growl? Oh, was that him? He cut that shit out and wondered just how crazy he’d gone in the last ten minutes.
“S’all good, my brother. I’m Kyrian, and we’re friends.” He patted him on the shoulder and those wings shifted as his muscles tensed and released.
“What are you?”
“What are we, you mean. We’re Nephilim. Warriors of the Heavens, Watchers of the Gray. I’m the medic of the group, so let me take a look and see why she dropped over, ’kay?”
Nephilim? Danel’s mind stalled out on that . . . and then bombarded him with information—definitions, nonsecular and Biblical references, pop-culture examples . . .
“It’s a lot,” Kyrian said, kneeling beside the couch. “But while you absorb, maybe focus on her. I don’t like her pallor. She’s too damn pale.”
Agreed. Stepping back, Danel made space for the man to access Ronnie. He shifted the bulk of his broad shoulders like he wasn’t toting seven-foot appendages. In the event that he was totally tripping, Danel snuck a touch of a few of those ebony feathers. Yep. Not dreaming.
“I’m okay,” Ronnie said, her eyes fluttering open. “Nope, I’m going to be sick.”
Danel had pushed past the leather-bound condor and raced to the bathroom with Ronnie in his arms before he even made the decision to move. He set her on her knees in front of the porcelain bowl and stepped back. “Anything I can get you?”
“Ginger Ale and some privacy, please.”
He left her on her own when every instinct firing inside him argued to stay. Stupid. He barely knew the woman. Staring into the fridge, things got even more strange. The top and bottom shelves were filled with assorted sports drinks, Ginger Ale, water, and medicine bottles. The middle shelf had a sleeve of bagels, cream cheese, and a pack of shaved turkey.
“No wonder she’s so thin. She doesn’t eat.” He opened the freezer and found a couple pizzas, some pre-made dinners, and a shitload of eyedrops.
Getting his head back in the game, he grabbed the soda and headed back. He knocked. “Hey, am I good to enter?”
“Sure. All clear.”
When he let himself in, Ronnie was bent over the sink, washing her face. She folded the damp cloth and offered him a weak smile. “Don’t look so worried. I’m a bit faint and slightly dehydrated. Nothing new.”
She held out her hand for the drink and popped the tab. “Now, where’s my phone? I need to talk my father off a ledge.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cassi crouched behind a stack of wooden skids, Dougal and young Ravage at her side. They’d watched the entrance of a dilapidated warehouse for more than an hour and her fingers and toes were numb. “I doubt I shall ever acclimatize to the weather of the Human Realm,” she said, her breath condensing before her eyes into tiny, white clouds. “How many times did I wish for something other than suffocating heat? Now, the fiery singe of Hell would be a welcome balm.”
“Go back to the hotel, Mistress,” Dougal said. “Ravage and I will report in once we know something.”
The idea held merit. A hot bath. A glass of warm wine . . . or better yet, her teeth into Kyrian’s vein. She closed her eyes, suddenly much warmer. “No. I am the leader of a great and powerful race and would never leave my men out in the cold.” She winked at Ravage. “Besides, I’m tired of skulking in the shadows. Let us take a more direct approach.”
Straightening, she stepped out of their observation blind.
Dougal frowned, his salt and pepper brow creased deep. “I advise against this, Mistress. The warning over the door is just that, a warning. Whichever race lives inside, they won’t appreciate the company.”
“Yet my half-sister, Thrash, was welcome within.”
“And that proves my point. She represents the dark in Darkworld, milady. You are a very different soul.”
Dougal had a point, but still . . .
“It’ll be fine. I’m Stryker’s daughter. Surely that garners me enough respect to drop in and say hello.”
Dougal didn’t look pleased, but he pressed his shoulders back and nodded. “Ravage, stay here and await our return. If we’re not out in thirty minutes, find Kyrian and tell him where his wife is.”
Ravage nodded and pulled out his phone to check the time. “Understood. Safe home, the both of you.”
Kyrian returned Cassi’s call, deflated that she didn’t pick up. As he waited to leave his message he realized, yep, he’d turned into a true and utter sap. “Hey sweetheart, good news. We found Danel and he’s okay . . . well, mostly. I’ll tell you about that tonight. We’re headed over to the racetrack to get him and a friend settled. Long story. Anyway, I wanted to put your mind at ease. All is well. S’all good. I love you.”
He tucked his phone into his pocket and headed up the three, wide stone steps of what would soon be Zander and Austin’s new home. The transformation from a racetrack clubhouse into a massive, country mansion was almost complete. Reinforced glass. Half-inch metal mesh lining all exterior walls and ceiling. Salt lines under all the thresholds and window sashes. Sigils and wards etched and sealed over every point of entrance.
They were Otherworld secure.
They needed more furniture, some area rugs, and to finish wiring the grounds and perimeter security, and then Zander would give the thumbs-up for them to move in.
He hoped that he and Cassi would be invited to join his brothers. That would depend on Zander’s beast and whether he could ever trust Cassi after her mistaken attempts to kill Austin. That was a big if.
He opened the hidden compartment in the vestibule, p
unched in his code, and bent to the retinal scanner.
Austin met him in the foyer. “Zander called.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “Danel doesn’t remember any of you?”
Kyrian shook his head and stomped his boots on the mat. He shrugged off his lambskin jacket and hung it on one of the eight hooks, then leaned down to undo his laces. “It was good that Z had the Navigator. He’s driving them here old school.”
“And the girl?”
“A mystery. More than a barista, though. Zander and Colt will investigate her. Z spoke with her father. The guy was flying home from a business trip. He’s going to land, refuel, and head here as soon as the flight plan is set. He figures eight . . . maybe ten hours, max.”
“And she’s sick?”
He blew out a breath. “I’m not sure how much Danel knows but there is something systemic inside her. Most of her major organs are compromised a little, if not a lot.”
Stetson let out a bark and ran past them to the sidelight window beside the door. He wagged his tail and it banged the wall, a thick, brown club in motion. Dusk had overtaken the day. In early February, it would be dark by dinner. Kyrian turned on the outside light.
“Can you help her? With your gift?”
He shook his head. “I can ease her discomfort, and I did, but that’s it. To actively heal her in any way would be to change her natural course. That’s a hard no-go. No exceptions.”
“And Danel doesn’t remember being Nephilim at all?”
“That’s the weirdest part. It’s not like it feels normal to be one of us. Hundreds of dark souls push and pull within us every minute. He must think he’s lost his marbles.” He reached for the door handle. “You good, cowgirl?”
Austin drew a deep breath and put on a sunny smile. “Heck, yes. My porch light is always burnin’. Let’s do this.”
Ronnie didn’t appreciate being handed off to strangers, despite their help with those thugs from D.C.. That her father trusted them enough to move her was astounding; that she had no say in it, was no surprise. Just another day in the boy’s club reality of her life. Men who thought they needed to take care of her. Men who thought that they had a say in how she lived.
