Obsidian Music (Lion Security Book 3)

by Scarlett Dawn

  Two SUVs had driven down into the woods and were on fire, creating the smoke. There were bodies cluttering the ground. There had to be at least eighty to a hundred dead men, lying around all dying differently. I swallowed hard, my eyes darting from each dead man, but I didn’t see any of our group.

  And then I did.

  From where the shots were coming from.

  There was no other movement except for the four of them.

  Daniil. Grigori. Eva. Artur.

  They stalked side-by-side through the smoke, bleeding themselves from various places.

  The four were shooting anyone in the head that so much as twitched.

  I swallowed hard again.

  I heard someone groveling and crying then as they made their way through the carnage, blathering in Russian. He grabbed Daniil’s leg, obviously pleading for his life, but I didn’t think he had that long to live with only one arm left and a huge hole through his stomach. Daniil shook off his touch and bent down, his hair covering his face as he said something to him, right before he ended his life with a simple shot to the forehead.

  I pulled back and turned toward the woods behind me, staring at the trees there. That was better than seeing them cold and lethal, brutal in their actions. Roman stood like a statue of protection next to me. I didn’t exactly disagree with what they were doing, finishing up as they were, but it was different when someone was returning fire on you than just lying there dying. Some would call it mercy killings, but I didn’t think that was why they were doing it. I think this was the scary as fuck side of them.

  I heard the crunching of their steps—no longer trying to be silent—and I called out so they wouldn’t shoot us, “It’s Elizabeth and Roman.”

  They rounded the side of the limo.

  Daniil immediately lifted me from the ground, holding me like a babe in his arms against him, asking quickly in Russian something I couldn’t understand. I blinked up at his face that was covered in sweat and blood and soot, allowing my head to fall against his chest, and just held him. He gripped me tighter, repeating what he said in English, “Were you hit? Are you all right?”

  “No, I wasn’t hit. Roman took nine of them out back there.”

  He started rubbing my back as Grigori moved around us, knocking on the window of the limo, and crawling inside when the door opened.

  I lifted my head, staring into his dangerous eyes. “How badly are you injured?”

  He kissed me outright. His lips landed on mine as he crushed me to him, grabbing the back of my head, and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I had never felt anything better. I grabbed his neck, my wounded fingers digging into the damp skin there, and pressed into him, kissing him back with all I had to give. He growled, and I felt it against my breasts that were crushed against him as he held me tight. It was perfect.

  Until Artur nudged us, asking dryly, “Think this can wait until we’re back at the house?” He was holding his bicep where he was bleeding, looking at us a little exasperated. “I didn’t know dead bodies were a turn on for you, Papa.” He glanced around. “We need to get back and have a crew come out here and clean this shit up before anyone drives by. We’re lucky this area is deserted like it is.”

  Daniil sighed, and kissed my forehead, slowly releasing me. “He’s right. We need to go.”

  I nodded, scanning his body as Grigori got out of the car, holding a limp Ember. “Are your injuries bad?”

  He shook his head. “The worst is a minor flesh wound.” He lifted his shirt, showing me what appeared to be where a knife had skimmed his lean hip. He asked Grigori, “Is Ember okay?”

  Grigori nodded. “She was awake when I went in. She’s only passed out again when I moved her. I think her right hip is bruised badly. Nothing new.”

  Artur stated, already walking away, “Let’s go, then.”

  The driver crawled out of the car, his gaze scanning the area as we made our way through the wreckage, shaking his head and muttering something as he got on a cell phone. From what I understood from the conversation, he phoned someone to tell them a ‘crew’ needed to be sent to this location. He didn’t seem fazed by what we were wading through, only factual. Guess he had seen this before.

  I slipped…in someone’s guts…and Daniil caught my arm, steadying me, watching my face as I lifted the shirt back over my nose, holding it there and swallowing repeatedly. I pushed forward, trying hard not to step on anyone’s anything again. Daniil kept me close, guiding me through it all, like a sound foundation to the disgusting quicksand all around.

  I kept my feet moving quickly, and we hit the road, turning toward where the SUVs and trucks burned or lay on flat tires from the limo’s spray of bullets. Nothing was drivable. It was as if we all took a large breath in, right before we started a slow trot toward the house. Though Daniil chucked my gun to the side and lifted me into his arms almost instantly. The faster we got there, the faster we could wash the death from us.

  Three minutes into our run, a limo pulled up. It was the rest of Lion Security. They were a little late but much appreciated. I would take the ride willingly.

  Zane muttered, “You had all the fun without us.”

  I was sure we weren’t very pretty. Blood, soot, dirt, sweat. The only ones who were halfway clean were Ember and the driver. The rest of us looked like we had just come from war.

  Grigori grumbled, “You’re late.”

  “Well, we had a house to finish blowing up.” Zane nodded toward Ember. “She injured?” He started walking toward us, and I was pretty sure we all stepped back, each of us a little trigger-happy at the moment. Zane stopped in his tracks, his gaze quick and intelligent before darting back to where we had come from. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He was still staring down the road. “How many?”

  Daniil sighed and started moving toward the limo. “All in all, one gunship, and approximately a hundred men and fifteen vehicles.” Funny how he put them in that order.

  Zane blinked at us.

  Stash asked into the silence, “Anyone get any video of that?” He seemed hopeful.

  Roman started chuckling as we moved toward the SUV.

  Grigori muttered, “Sick bastard.”

  We all entered the limo in a calm fashion.

  Stash shrugged. “It would have been good for our introductory videos.”

  I sat on Daniil’s lap, and Artur sat on the floor in front of us, resting his head against the side of the car, closing his eyes. He looked a little pale under his tan skin.

  I nudged him with my foot. “You all right?”

  “The bullet didn’t exit,” he muttered.

  Zane immediately knelt in front of him on the floor. “Let me see it.”

  Artur kept his eyes closed but lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt. What I had thought was a flesh wound wasn’t. Grigori cursed seeing his brother’s bicep, and Eva called him a very unkind name. I scowled at her. You weren’t supposed to call people that when they were shot and bleeding in front of you.

  “He should have told us,” she muttered harshly returning my scowl.

  Zane probed the wound, and Artur grimaced, right before passing out. Daniil ordered to Zane, “Take us to the fucking hospital or he’s going to lose his arm.”

  Guess they weren’t too late after all.

  It looked like I wasn’t getting to see my bed anytime soon.

  We sat in the waiting room while Artur was operated on. I leaned against Daniil—after he had made me get checked out by a doctor there. I had no new injuries, the babies were fine, and my hands were now re-bandaged. It felt good being safe in his arms, to have him ordering people around again.

  We were all covered in blood and gore while we sat there. New York’s finest rookies stood around the room watching us wearily. Stash, who knew a few of them, had tried to convince them we weren’t a threat to the hospital, but apparently, they didn’t believe so, especially when Daniil called in more bodyguards.

  Ember had been taken to a room—Grigori following�
�to make sure she was all right, and Grigori had sent word with one of his three new bodyguards—his others dead—that she was fine. They were with us now after they had called to make sure Nikki and Beth were fine.

  I sighed and snuggled in closer to Daniil.

  Artur would be out of surgery soon, which meant I would be able to see my home after that. I doubted Artur was a man to sit around in a hospital. He would want to go home, just as I had.

  “He’ll be fine, my sweet.” Daniil kissed my forehead.

  “I know. He’s your son.”

  I was freshly showered and had eaten a decent meal. Finally, I was home. We moved to the study after dinner, and Ember brought in armfuls of crystal so everyone could have a drink. Our day and night had been shit so far. But at least, I was safe and home, and Artur had made it through surgery without any complications. I sat on a couch next to the only other person injured, both Artur and I now wearing casts on one arm. I sipped from a glass of red wine—the doctor had said a glass wouldn’t hurt the babies—feeling the burn slide down my throat. I licked my lips. It was damn good.

  Ember sat on the desk next to the open bottles of vodka. She wasn’t drinking.

  Grigori took a glass from her, bending and whispering something against her ear. She tilted her head, and I couldn’t see what kind of look she gave him, but she didn’t say anything, and he still backed away, saying something else that she didn’t respond to either. He started muttering under his breath, turning sharply from her. When he passed me, I heard a few inventive curse words being stated as he went to sit by his father, who was sipping his own drink. Daniil’s eyes crinkled over the glass in my direction, in obvious amusement, he hid before his son sat down.

  Roman took a seat next to me as he threw an arm over the back of the couch, snatching my drink from my bandaged hands. He took a good swig before giving it back. I glared at him, and he stated, “I can’t really drink right now. I have to watch over Ember.”

  I gestured to the bodyguards who were taking sips covertly from shot glasses. “Really? And what are they doing?”

  Roman grinned, taking my glass from me again for a smaller sip this time. “Celebrating. We’ve all been searching so damn long for you. It’s good to have you home again.” He glanced at Ember. “But she is thoroughly pissed off that she passed out in the wreck. She feels a little…embarrassed. And an embarrassed Ember is nothing to take lightly. Especially when Grigori gets protective like this. I’m just glad Brent and Cole are watching the girls tonight. Ember would have been a real mess if her kids were around, and she tried to pretend everything was fine.”

  I nodded, grabbing my glass back from him and draining the contents before he could steal the rest. I could only have one glass, dammit. I nudged his arm with my cast, and whispered, “I’m going to see if I can make her feel a little better.”

  I strolled as elegantly as I could over to Ember, my pregnant belly deciding that was just silly. Ember was still silent, sitting cross-legged on top of the desk—she seriously had a fetish with chairs. I sat my empty glass on the table next to the vodka bottles.

  I tilted my head, and asked her softly, “You know, I didn’t kill anyone either when we were attacked. And I don’t even have a real injury to blame that on.”

  She lifted my empty glass and rolled it in her hands. “You and I are very different.” Her eyes met mine, cold and ruthless. “That’s not a bad thing. It just is. What you’re saying won’t change that I feel like I failed somehow today.”

  I hesitated, and then commented softly, “You didn’t fail today.”

  She snorted. “How’s that?”

  My smile was sincere. “When the reporters were all around, you kept me from freaking out in the limo. You truly did help me. That’s not failing. You succeeded when I needed you, and I’m grateful for that.”

  Ember didn’t respond, but her eyes softened as she shooed me away.

  I sighed and went.

  I sat next to Daniil, listening to Grigori complain on Daniil’s other side. My lips twitched. Grigori and Ember were made for each other. But my head cocked when I could have sworn his words slurred.

  I tilted my head to ask Daniil if his son was already drunk, but it was fucking heavy. I let my head drop back on the couch, staring over at him as he did the same. “I may have drank too much.”

  Daniil’s eyebrows snapped together, and he stated slowly, “I didn’t. And I feel…” His eyes widened, and his head snapped up, shaking it hard before shouting, “Stop drinking! It’s poisoned!” He blinked, swaying, his head falling back next to mine as he muttered, “Fuck. They’re attacking on the same goddamn day. I didn’t expect that.”

  My heartbeat raced as true panic and fear entered my system. I managed to move my head toward the center of the room, at least being able to see everyone out of the corner of my eye, as my body seemed to shut down, making me unable to move. My mouth would barely move, but I was able to breathe as I heard glasses falling to the floor.

  The only person in the room that hadn’t had anything to drink was…Ember. I was just able to see her from where I sat, but I could tell she was sprawled over the desk haphazardly, half hanging off where she had collapsed. Fuck. She must have drunk after I left her. Jesus. I had never been poisoned before, and I sure as hell didn’t like it. So defenseless.

  The room went silent after all the glasses fell, the tinkling of shattering glass ringing away. The drug seemed to hit everyone at the same time, so it must have been pretty potent, all of us vulnerable, sprawled on the couches. I wondered frantically if the drug was going to kill us all slowly since it wasn’t doing anything immediately but paralyze me.

  A few minutes of silence passed, everyone’s breathing harsh in the air, as I waited to start foaming at the mouth or something. But nothing happened. It was weird as fuck.

  Then, something did.

  Movement.

  Of the beautiful sort as a woman walked into the room.

  Shit! The fucking bitch had drugged us. She stalked across the room with a lethal grace I hadn’t seen before on a woman.

  She was a fucking trained killer.

  Grabbing her cell phone, she stared around the room with trained eyes, evaluating us. She dialed, and put the phone to her ear, speaking in fluent English, “It’s done. What does she look like?” She listened, glancing around the room. Her gaze snapped to Ember. And stayed there. “The redhead?” My heart rate jacked up so hard then because I understood then. My hair was so short the red didn’t stand out as it normally did. Ember’s did. “It’ll be done. Code 81846.” She hung up, placing the phone back into her pocket and started walking to Ember.

  Grigori’s voice was harsh, and slurred so badly I could hardly understand him as he tried to speak, his accent coming out to play. “Don’t…leave…her…please.”

  The woman stopped, her eyes on Grigori. “I can’t believe you decided to celebrate tonight. This family’s ego is astounding!” She glanced at Ember, smiling. “They’re going to have some fun with her before they butcher the lot of you. Let you watch.”

  “No!” Grigori managed to shout, his tone pleading. “Don’t…do…this.”

  “Unbelievable!” She leaned down, glaring at him. “You don’t even ask who I am. Who’s coming to kill you? You just beg for her worthless life?” She heaved in a breath. “They say find their weakness. Looks like my contractor did.”

  She started stalking toward Ember again, grabbing a handful of her hair that hung over the side of the desk.

  Grigori’s voice was hoarse as she started tugging Ember off the table by the hair. “Please…leave…her.”

  “Fuck you,” she stated harshly. “I don’t go back on my contracts.”

  And it happened.

  I blinked, startled.

  The woman gave another hard tug on Ember, her body half hanging off the table…when Ember…came to life in a flurry of movement. Ember twisted, falling into a handstand, wrapping her legs around the woman’s waist. She s
hoved up and twisted in mid-air, taking the woman down hard. I sure as fuck hadn’t seen that coming. Hell, I barely saw it when it did happen, she moved so fucking fast.

  But my current assessment of the assassin was correct, and even though she was surprised, she managed to roll and twist out of the hold both women jumping to their feet, staring at one another.

  The assassin laughed. “Aren’t you a wily one?”

  Ember brushed her hair out her face. “Wrong redhead, you stupid bitch.” She crossed her arms, tapping a converse. “So are we going to finish this? Or are you going to stand there catching flies with your mouth gaping open like that?”

  It sounded like Grigori sighed, and he stated as quickly as he could, “Kill…the…bitch. More…coming.”

  Ember sprung at the woman.

  And the fight was on.

  Those in the room who Ember had duped with her drugged act were no longer misled. I hadn’t even seen her fight like this. The assassin was bigger and stronger than Ember, but within a minute, Ember—who, oddly, fought as if she were trying not to kill her—had the woman pinned on the ground face down with a gun to her head.

  Ember asked calmly, “How many are coming?”

  The assassin didn’t respond, still struggling under Ember.

  “Last time I’m asking. How many are on their way?” Ember’s eyes were hard as she gazed down at the prone beautiful woman.

  “Fuck you,” she hissed.

  Ember’s smile was chilling. “And that was the wrong answer.”

  She shot her. Point blank. To the head.

  Blood splattered all over her face, and she didn’t even flinch. Fluidly, she jumped off the dead woman, glancing around, asking quickly, “If anyone can move, speak up now.”

  No one moved or spoke to the war painted redhead.

  “Fuck,” Ember cursed, holstering her gun inside the leg of her pants, already running over to Grigori, pulling a cell phone out of her pocket.