Roaring

by Lindsey Duga

  It felt like we’d barely scraped the surface of how Marjorie’s powers worked before one of the henchmen arrived at my suite to fetch me for lunch with Brocker. Marjorie helped me get ready and then sent me off with a supportive smile and a squeeze on my shoulder.

  The man took me to a grand ballroom that occupied most of the entire floor. It went on for what felt like ages with high, high ceilings that easily displaced another floor above. The western wall was all glass, likely designed to watch the sunset. Crystal chandeliers hung in a grid, lighting up every deep corner with a yellow glow and rainbow light bouncing on the sleek marble floor. On the left and right sides of the ballroom were large round tables covered in white silk tablecloths and clear vases awaiting expensive floral arrangements. There was also a large oak bar that appeared eager to fill patrons’ glasses with giggle water in sparkling glasses.

  And to my never-ending horror, at the very opposite side of the ballroom was a stage. Along with a grand piano, instruments and chairs that were all aligned, ready for a big jazz band. A spotlight hung from the ceiling, awaiting its next performer.

  I had an idea I knew who it would be.

  “Eris.” My name traveled across the expanse of the ballroom, and it was only then that I noticed a single man sitting at a table not far from the stage.

  Stiffly, I made my way down the middle of the large marble aisle meant for future dancers and wove through the tables until I reached the one where Brocker sat.

  He lifted a white mug of coffee to his lips. “I thought we’d have lunch together.”

  “It’s awfully big for just the two of us,” I commented, making a point to glance around at the ballroom again.

  He patted the seat next to him, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “So it is. Come, sit. Let’s eat.”

  Every inch of me wanted to dump that scalding coffee into his lap, but I took the seat and the moment I did, a waiter came up, bearing an entire tray of food. Silently, the waiter set down the dishes and my jaw nearly dropped at the wide array. Just before he left, he arranged two plates of fine china, silverware, and two carafes—one of ice water and one of iced tea.

  Brocker spooned food onto my plate. “A bit of Waldorf salad. Breast of chicken, a la rose. Try the roast duck broiled potatoes. But leave room for dessert because Chef Andre has prepared some delightful biscuit tortoni angel cake bonbons.”

  It was far too much. I longed for the simple pastrami sandwich back in Philly, and of course, the man I’d eaten it with. Swallowing back a fresh wave of pain, I picked up my fork and stuffed a few bites of Waldorf salad in my mouth. The dressing was light and flavorful and the fresh green apples and almond slices provided the right crunch to the leafy mix.

  Brocker spoke at length about all the luxuries I’d be afforded while living with him. He described all the jewels and the fancy dresses I could expect. He even wanted to personally take me to Bergdorf’s the following week. I responded when it was polite and pushed the food around on my plate just enough to make it appear like I’d eaten more than I actually had.

  “All this and more will be yours if you simply do as I ask,” he said at last, wiping his mouth with his napkin and dropping it to his lap, “Eris, you will be useful to me in many ways in the next few years, but you will perform no single action that is more important than what I require from you tomorrow night.”

  “What am I to do tomorrow night?”

  Brocker took another sip of his coffee. “Something you’ve been doing almost every night for the last eight years.”

  “You want me to sing.”

  “Yes.”

  “What song?”

  “It doesn’t matter what song really, so long as these lyrics are inserted somewhere in the midst of it.” He removed a folded sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table, sliding it toward me.

  I scanned the lyrics. “They don’t even rhyme.”

  “They don’t have to. You just need to sing them in your beautiful, powerful voice.”

  I read them through again. “What happens once these men sign over these shares to you?” I remembered reading about Brocker’s holding company, and the fact that he held the shares of many businesses, but I wasn’t sure why I needed to order these people to sell over even more of their stocks. Were they so difficult to convince or would something nefarious happen once they did?

  His smile turned brittle. “Don’t you worry about that, my pet. Now, I hope you have room saved for those angel cake bonbons.” He snapped his fingers at a nearby waiter as I reread the lyrics.

  It was then I remembered Marjorie’s words from yesterday. “You have to agree to his heist.”

  This was his heist. Signing over the rest of their shares meant Brocker wouldn’t just control a piece of all these companies, it meant he would control them all. He wasn’t just stealing money, he was stealing entire corporations, and all their profits.

  While I was still wrapped up in the piece of paper before me, a familiar scent tickled my nose. A gloved hand set down a teacup full of steaming orange pekoe.

  My heart stuttered.

  I jerked my gaze up to the waiter. The man had dark hair, smartly styled, and sharp green eyes with narrowed pupils…almost reptilian.

  He gave me a smile. “Thought you would like some tea, miss,” he said smoothly.

  “Tea will go well with the cakes,” Brocker commented absently as he turned to a stack of papers set by him.

  The waiter offered another polite smile. “If the miss doesn’t like orange pekoe, I’m happy to get her something else.”

  “No,” I said quickly, trying to keep the desperate panic out of my voice. “This is perfect. I love orange pekoe.”

  The waiter nodded and gave a short bow, backing away from the table.

  For a long minute, I stared at the cup of tea, hopeful, yet with hopeless possibilities racing through my mind. Clenching my fists, I searched for the waiter. He leaned against the doorframe of the ballroom, staring right at me. Intensely.

  It could just be a coincidence, but I’d never forgive myself if I lost all hope for him.

  “Sir?”

  “Hmm?” Brocker flipped to another page in his stack.

  “May I go back to my room?”

  At that, he looked up, inspecting me intently. “We will have to move past this, Eris. It will be much easier if you didn’t hate me forever.”

  I returned his stare. “After seeing all that blood yesterday I wasn’t able to eat anything. This rich food on an empty stomach has made me unwell.”

  Brocker set down his papers, actually looking concerned. “I see. Then yes, you may go.” He made a gesture for one of his men in suits to come get me, but I laid my hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “Sir, I can find my own way back.”

  He said nothing, still watching me. Perhaps considering whether or not he could trust me.

  “If I am to live here happily, I cannot be treated like a prisoner,” I added.

  A slow, cruel smile started on his lips. “Very well, Eris.” He picked his documents back up and tapped their edges on the table. “I trust you. At least, I trust that you care very much about the well-being of those children.”

  Shards of glass pricked my throat as I swallowed and stood from the table, the chair scraping across the marble. Brocker made no move to stop me, or gave any indication that he worried I would disobey him. He knew his threat was sufficient.

  At the same moment, the waiter with the orange pekoe disappeared through the door, with one last piercing gaze right at me. My heels clicked across the marble as I wound through the tables and escaped through the ballroom door. Catching just the profile of the waiter as he rounded a bend, I picked up my pace.

  I turned the corner and found the short hallway empty. Rhatz! Had I lost him? I rounded the next bend and an arm wrapped a
round my waist, quickly followed by a large hand tightening over my mouth. With a muffled gasp, I was pulled into a hallway closet.

  The hands dropped away and went to the closet door in front of my nose, closing it and locking it with a click. Now free, I spun around, expecting to see the strange waiter I’d been following and…

  Found Colt instead.

  His thick hair, the color of wheat, was slicked back and styled like a fancy gentleman’s. He wore a waiter’s uniform and a nasty-looking bruise on his cheek, but other than that he hadn’t changed much at all. His dark eyes traveled over my skin, from my legs, to my arms, to my neck and coming to rest on my face.

  “They haven’t hurt me,” I breathed, answering his inspection.

  He cupped my cheeks, his brow furrowing, eyes searching mine, and seeing something there that was maybe visible to only him. “Yes, they have,” he whispered back.

  Trembling, I reached up and felt his face. My fingers traced the planes of his cheeks, careful to avoid his bruise, then dropped to the line of his jaw and skimmed across his neck.

  I choked back a sob at the familiar feel of him. “You’re really here.”

  He took my hands from his face and kissed my palms—like he had back at the Cerberus Club. His lips lingered as he whispered, “I told you I’d find you.”

  While I was still reeling in the euphoria of his mouth on my skin, his arms enveloped me, holding so tightly it felt like he was trying to fuse all my broken pieces back together.

  “I thought maybe I lost you,” I murmured as silent tears rolled down my cheeks. The smell of burning wood filled me up and my heart seemed to absorb all that smoke and pump it through my veins, infusing me with his essence.

  “You can’t shake me that easily, doll,” he whispered into my shoulder.

  I pulled back and wiped at my damp cheeks. “And thank God for that.”

  Colt leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. His hot breath fanned across my lips. “Don’t bring Him into this.”

  Ah. There it was. My sweet taste of sin that I’d give my soul over to. I tilted my chin up and pressed my mouth to his. A moan escaped from the back of his throat as his strong hands cupped my neck, fingers digging into my perfectly styled waves. When his teeth raked across my bottom lip, I responded willingly, already eager for that deeper kiss he’d shown me in the shade of the chapel.

  Somehow, it was all hotter and faster than before. His tongue and lips were demanding, and yet not demanding enough. Precious, blissful clouds of pleasure filled me as everything but our bodies and breaths ceased to exist. He pressed me against the closet door while the knob dug into my lower back—a delicious pain that I blatantly ignored as I tugged him closer.

  His lips left mine to drop searing, tantalizing kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I bit my bottom lip and closed my eyes, my hands roaming over his strong shoulders and down his pressed white shirt. My fingers slipped under his jacket lapels and hooked around his black suspenders. He let out a growl against my skin and I realized that it was my name—said more like a warning. “Eris.”

  Please. More. Nothing but you.

  His kisses trailed back up to my mouth and my mind spun out of control. I wasn’t thinking. There was wonderfully nothing to think about. Only him, alive, with me and kissing me.

  As our tongues tangled, my hands turned greedy, and before I could stop myself, I was tugging his shirt out of his pants and sliding my fingers across his smooth, muscled stomach.

  Colt tore his mouth from mine, panting, just like me, and caught my hands, removing them from his skin. “Hold on, baby, hold on.”

  I almost whimpered with the loss of him. “Please, Colt. I don’t want to stop.”

  “Listen, doll,” his breath was labored and shallow as he murmured in my ear, “when we’re out of this mess and you’ve got a manacle on your left hand, I’ll never stop. But right now, we can’t.”

  His words were beautiful and yet lost on my frazzled, grief-stricken mind. “But when I’m touching you, everything bad goes away and I just—” My throat tightened and I couldn’t breathe through it.

  Colt wrapped one arm around my back and used his other to tuck my face into his neck as he threaded gentle fingers through my hair.

  “I know,” he whispered into my temple as he kissed it lightly. “I know.”

  “He killed Madame.”

  Colt stiffened for a moment, then squeezed me tighter. “I’m sorry.”

  We were quiet for a long time, him just holding me in the little hall closet.

  “We could run,” Colt said, breaking the silence.

  I leaned back to look him in the eyes. His gaze was serious and dark.

  “I could get us out of here and we’d be out of the state before Brocker is done with his cup of joe. Eris”—he took both my hands in his once more and kissed my fingertips—“run away with me.”

  Over the years, I’d lost count of how many men had asked me that. How many had grabbed my elbow after a set at the Dragon and promised me the world.

  For just the tiniest moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if we actually did run.

  Golden California with its giant Redwood trees, rolling hills, and rocky coastline—all of it, with Colt.

  Delicious, sweet temptation.

  “I can’t.” My heart crumbled and cracked. “If I ran, more innocents would die.”

  To my surprise, Colt smiled. “That. Right there.”

  “What?”

  He brushed his thumb across my cheek. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”

  I let out a shaky laugh, my heart tap-dancing the Charleston at his confession. “Anyone would do that, Colt.”

  His brow furrowed. “Not everyone, doll.”

  “You would,” I argued.

  One side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Being with you has its side effects.”

  Side effects. The virus. Pulling away from him, I quickly turned back to the door.

  “Eris?”

  I dug under my dress to pull out the vial of blood then whirled back around, pressing it into his palm. “I was trying to figure out how to get it to the doctor, but maybe you can now.”

  Colt curled his fingers around the vial. “I’ll take care of it. Now what were you saying about more innocents?”

  As fast I could, I told him about all the children being pumped full of chimera agent on the floor far below us and Brocker’s cruel plan to use them for an army. “It’s like he has his own little hospital ward set up. Colt, if I don’t sing these lyrics at this ridiculous party tomorrow, he’ll probably kill them all. He’s threatening me with them and also using them for his own gain. It’s…”

  “Monstrous.” Colt shook his head. “Are the lyrics about telling CEOs to sell their shares to Brocker?”

  I blinked. “How did you…”

  “Long story. You can’t sing those lyrics.”

  “But the children…”

  “If we can get them out safely, we can expose Brocker. Put him behind bars for kidnapping all of them.”

  “If I remember correctly, the children are below the thirteenth floor—I would try the eleventh. But Colt…” I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Do you have the rest of the BOI with you? Was that an agent I followed?”

  “Yeah, Jimmy Sawyer. Good guy.”

  “How did you two get in here undetected?”

  Colt gestured to his waiter uniform. “We’ve got a manticore on our team who knocked out some other waiters and stole their uniforms. Apparently if you have this”—he nudged a small silver crest that acted as a pin on his lapel—“it’s duck soup getting in.”

  “How many of there are you?”

  “Four.”

  He read the devastation on my face and took my chin between his forefinger and my thumb, tilting my head up to meet
his gaze. “Don’t worry about us, Eris. Just focus on your song and make sure they don’t hand over their shares to Brocker. We’ll get those kids out some way.”

  Icy fear gripped my whole body. I pictured Brocker’s cold indifference as he pulled the trigger on the gun against Madame’s temple. “Colt, I don’t know if I can do this. I…I’m not strong like you.”

  Colt was quiet for a moment as I felt his eyes rake over my face. I couldn’t look at them. How could I tell him that I was scared to go up on that stage and sing the wrong lyrics and then have Brocker gun me down where I stood? I was a coward. Every time I protected others it was because I knew they were forbidden from actually killing me. But now Brocker was here, needing me for this one important thing. If I failed, and all his collateral was gone, then why shouldn’t he kill me?

  “Then I’m not sure you know what strength is.”

  My gaze shot back up to him, and he was staring down at me, something in those dark irises holding me captive.

  He placed two fingers into the hollow of my throat, ever so lightly. “Strength is acceptance. It’s forgiveness. It’s doing what’s right. It’s sacrifice. It’s not speaking for seven years to ensure that others around you can keep their free will. It’s not running away with a handsome scoundrel who wants to marry you when others need you. Eris, strength is you. You might be terrified to get on that stage, but you would anyway. To save whoever you could. Being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human.”

  And just like that, all those broken pieces inside me started to heal, threading themselves back together again. Bit by bit. My voice was thick as I muttered, “You’re such a smooth talker.”

  “I’ve never lied to you, Eris.” Colt pulled me flush against his body. My heart pounded and my stomach flipped as I felt the hard planes of his chest against my own. “Even at The Blind Dragon. You ensnared me before I even heard your voice.” My knees buckled as I laced my fingers through his hair, his head dipping to kiss my neck and then collarbone…