Asher had seen far too many men like Helmuth in his life. They never learned. They always thought their way would give them ultimate power. In the end, it never worked as planned for them.
Helmuth and others like him needed to feel important. Needed to keep people lower than them in order to inflate their egos. Egos that would lead to their downfall.
Helmuth wasn’t the first guy to try to rule through violence. Hell, Asher’s past had a man even worse than Helmuth in it.
It’s in your blood, he thought, stiffening.
Asher considered exacting revenge upon Helmuth, the likes of which the man had never seen. But Asher knew better than to. He’d seen firsthand what fully giving in to power such as his own could do to a person. It left them a shell of what they’d been—filled with rage, evil and the all-consuming need to kill.
Checks and balances.
Nature was full of them. So was the supernatural community.
His cell phone buzzed. He removed it from his inner jacket pocket and nearly laughed when he spotted who was calling. A figurehead, placed in his role to give the few humans who knew of the I-Ops existence a false sense of security. As if they had the men on leashes and could pull back when they liked.
“Brooks,” he said, answering the phone.
The man on the other end didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Dammit, Brooks, I’m looking at a report here that says Seattle is a fucking disaster. You better have more proof than this that we’ve got traitors among us or—”
Grinning, Asher cut the man off. “Or you’ll do what, exactly?”
“I’ll have you replaced, and you know what happens to people we replace,” the man threatened.
Asher rolled his eyes. “Oh, do tell.”
“You may be tight with Newman and the others, but you’re nothing to me,” warned the man.
“As you are to me,” Asher warned. He would not take kindly to the man interfering any further. He let his power rise slowly and concentrated on the pudgy, balding man who’d let his position go to his head. “Do not even think of pushing me on this. You will pass the report to who it needs to go to and you will sign off on it, as you know as well as I do that you and the others like you have not been honest with any of us. And unless you want me showing up in your room while you’re in a dead sleep, standing over you with a sword, ready to remove that thick head of yours, I’d suggest you do as you’re told.”
The man would. The compulsion in Asher’s voice was too great for a mere human to resist. It wasn’t something Asher did too often, as it was easy to go too far, to push too much. But it was called for now.
“Yes. Of course,” the man said, hanging up.
The idea that a human had any control over him or his men was laughable. His men were handpicked and superior soldiers. That being said, they did tend to bend or break about every rule set before them. It was simply the way of their personalities and he actually found that to be an asset.
“They are chips off the ole block,” he said softly, thinking of how he too had issues following commands when given by fools. He tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket. His men thought they were the only ones within the I-Ops organization who were supernatural.
They were not.
Asher was hardly ordinary or human. But he’d not worn his paranormal abilities on his sleeve for all to see. He kept them close to the vest, knowing better than to shout from the mountaintops about who he was—and more importantly, what he was.
That was a whole bag of shit he didn’t want opened. Things were good with his working relationship. He was the one “human” the men listened to. Though, he had to wonder if they ever suspected there was more to him than he let on. He’d seen the way Jon, one of his men, watched him of late. And he had a feeling Jon might be onto him same as Lukian was.
“I’m getting way too old for this shit,” he said softly, meaning every word of it.
He wouldn’t trade what he did now for anything. He was paying back the supernatural community. Sure, they weren’t aware of it, and yes, he was paying off a debt that wasn’t actually his own, but he needed to do this for his own peace of mind.
His phone buzzed, indicating he had an email. He already knew without looking that it was to alert him that his preliminary reports that Eadan and Duke had given regarding their involvement in matters in Seattle had been passed up the chain, signed off and all.
He laughed.
The men who believed themselves in control actually held little in the way of power. They were simply figureheads. Tools to be manipulated as the others saw fit. Asher was one of the people who viewed them in this light.
Once, long ago, he’d broken the rules. Bent them more than broke, really. The results had been catastrophic. He still carried the guilt of it all to this day.
With a slow measured breath, Asher took in the sights around him as he ran his hands through his now shorter black hair. Once he’d worn it to his waist, as most of his family and brethren did. In an attempt to blend in with his current job and surroundings, he adopted a more modern, clean-cut-male look, even going so far as to magikally sprinkle in some white hairs on his temples to show aging, where no other aging signs could be found. If he kept on as colonel he’d need to use his magik to create some laugh lines around his eyes or something to help the others believe he wasn’t immortal.
Or, you could break the rules and tell them the truth.
No.
The warehouse had been the scene of one hell of a throw-down. Dead bodies still littered the area and the battle itself had taken place the night prior. It was easy enough to keep humans at bay. A few well-placed spells and the humans felt no need to be in the area—in fact, they wanted to stay as far from it as they could. The heavy lifting in the spell department had been done by Helmuth’s magiks, not Asher’s.
The magik, while old and powerful, seemed a bit more like child’s play to him. Then again, he had run with a very different crowd the majority of his life.
While the warehouse area was bloody, Asher had seen worse.
Much worse.
Truth was, this was hardly a drop in the bucket for him. At least he could still acknowledge the brutality around him. Many like him had lost that ability to be sensitive to the deaths of others. There had been a time, not long ago, that he too was in danger of losing the skills needed to relate to those thought to be lesser.
He had been put in his place and had his eyes opened wide.
He began to shake slightly as his mind threatened to take him back to the events of old—to remind him of what had been his turning point. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t mentally return to it all. He was a broken man now because of it. His self-imposed punishment didn’t seem like enough.
It would never be enough.
The entire dock area smelled like a mix of death and fish. Neither were great on their own. Combined they were nauseating. He avoided any further deep breaths as he surveyed the situation. The mess should have already been cleaned. He could have done it much faster than the current cleanup teams, but there were rules in place for a reason, and exposing himself to those around him wasn’t allowed.
No one had seen Asher arrive. They never did. It was how it should be. He needed to be someone the supernaturals he worked with trusted fully without fearing or questioning his loyalty. Besides, he was forbidden from telling them the truth of himself. The pact between the remaining members of his kind included secrecy. That was fine by Asher. He’d stopped claiming to be one of them long before they’d decided it was best to allow everyone, including supernaturals, to believe them nothing more than mythology. It was for the best. They did not need the insanity he and his kind brought to the table.
His allegiances were his own and not up for debate with the group or the organization. When he’d been brought into the Immortal Ops program, it had not been lightly. The people who thought they had control of it were wrong.
Dead wrong.
Controlling immortal sol
diers wasn’t something that could be done easily. Making sure the scientists involved in it all didn’t change sides was apparently even harder—as had already happened.
Bad decisions had been made. Good people had lost their lives.
He checked his watch. The current cleanup crew should have already been done with the warehouse and the pier. That spoke to just how big of a cleanup issue they were dealing with.
Your men all returned alive. You can’t ask for anything better.
He could ask that the violence stop—period, but that would never happen. Since the dawn of time good had been pitted against evil. It would continue to be until the end of it all. There was no changing it.
He knew.
He’d tried.
Asher approached the cleanup crew and then stood among them. They had yet to notice his arrival. He’d have a talk with them later about that. They should always be on the alert. They may not be the most skilled fighters the organization had, but they were trained to protect themselves and their surroundings.
This was hardly a secure location.
“Speed it up,” he barked. The two men nearest him nearly jumped out of their skin.
They needed to get their shit together and clear out soon. He wouldn’t risk any of them learning personal information about him. He’d been alive too long and seen too many turncoats to trust anyone with what he held precious.
Or rather who.
You should probably start by telling her you have the hots for her, he thought to himself.
Coward.
With as many years as he’d lived and as many battles as he’d fought, he thought himself a strong man. Not when it came to one tall redhead with curves in all the right places.
She had a way of making him feel weak and vulnerable, something Asher wasn’t used to at all. He’d tried rather unsuccessfully to keep his distance from her, to ignore her pull, but clearly the Fates had other thoughts on the matter.
Damn Fates.
Always butting in where they didn’t belong.
Family did that.
Soon enough he’d see Jinx again and everything would be right in his world once more. Or, as right as it got in his world. A slow smile found its way to his face and he had to control his expression around the cleanup team. They didn’t need to know he was excited to see a woman.
Information was a weapon, and in the wrong hands it could be deadly.
He was far more excited to see Jinx than he should be. This was a business meeting. Nothing more.
He thought back to the times he’d been near her in his life. Each time she’d commanded his attention, holding it, captivating him from his head to his toes.
Never had a woman held such pull over him.
It wasn’t just because she was a succubus. He’d been around enough of those in his lifetime to know that had nothing to do with the attraction he felt for her. His pull to Jinx was carnal and instinctive. Over the years he’d watched her from a distance, always drawn to her, always mindful of what his obsession could bring.
He’d carved out a nice living for himself—staying off the grid for the most part while still helping to fight the good fight.
She knew about him. About the secrets he kept from his own men. About his magik and so much more. She knew about his father and the horrors his father had brought down upon the earth. About the death and destruction that had followed in his father’s wake. And she knew that he carried those same powers, that same ability, and that he walked a fine line of control.
She knew all the details he kept from everyone, yet she’d never once tried to use it to her advantage. That spoke highly of her character. Of her.
Chapter Three
Lukian waited until the colonel headed to a rental car before he turned to the other men. They’d made it as far as their rental before they’d decided to circle around, tuck themselves away and watch what was happening. Something major was going down in Seattle and they were already down some men, having flown out with only half a team. Lukian wasn’t one to ignore bad vibes and he was getting them in spades at the idea of letting the colonel go off on his own.
“Uh, are we planning to stalk the colonel?” Roi asked from the passenger seat. “If so, can I pee first?”
“Jackass,” said Eadan from the back.
“I thought having you both mated would make this bickering like children end,” added Lukian, annoyed with them and their behavior.
“You thought wrong,” Roi said before smiling sweetly. “Captain.”
“Why, exactly, are we tailing the colonel?” asked Eadan. “We don’t think he’s the rogue, do we?”
“No,” Lukian and Roi said in unison.
Lukian put the car in gear as Brooks pulled away. “I think he’s headed into the lion’s den.”
Roi tipped his head. “Shit. Tell me we’re not going to the whorehouse. Missy will kill me.”
“We’re going to a reputable establishment that the colonel is headed to.” Lukian was careful to keep a good distance from Brooks so as not to tip him off that they were directly disobeying his orders.
“An establishment that features hot succubi who cater to supernaturals,” added Roi. “And just so we’re clear, your wife will end you too.”
“She’ll understand this was to make sure nothing bad happens to the colonel,” said Lukian. “You don’t want to be called to another scene to find his body looking like the ones we just left, do you?”
Roi shook his head. “No. But I’m calling my wife.”
Eadan laughed and then stopped, pulling out his cell as well. “Shit. I’m calling mine too.”
Chapter Four
Jinx kept her posture rigid, watching as hired goons tore apart the room before her. The club was her baby. She’d poured so much of herself into it that it was hard to hold back tears as the men continued to knock down shelves, sending liquor bottles crashing to the floor. They’d already broken a fair number of the chairs and tables in an attempt to show off just how strong they were. Apparently total wreckage somehow equaled badass in their minds.
All she’d really gotten out of the ordeal thus far was that they were dicks. Her girls flinched and huddled in behind her. Thankfully, she’d sent her male workers away, telling them they were needed at another location for the evening. Her boys would have exacerbated the ordeal that possibly could have led to a body count. As it was, the goons were simply making a good deal of noise and breaking a lot of items. They’d not hurt anyone.
Yet.
Jinx had tried earlier to get her girls to go too. None of them had bit on the night at the spa that she’d offered. It was as though they’d sensed trouble brewing. And trouble had certainly bubbled over.
The silent alarms had been tripped. Since Jinx and her establishment were hardly normal, the alarms did not notify the local authorities. What would have been the point?
Come quick and then freak the hell out at the sight of paranormals.
No. That would never do.
The alarms notified her and her own private security. They’d come soon enough. Even though she’d told them earlier that she was having the alarms tested and to ignore any possible alerts.
They were smarter than that. They’d know she was bluffing—trying to keep them all safe. When word reached her of the pending raid on her establishment, she’d done all she could to keep her people out of harm’s way.
Hopefully her security detail would arrive after Helmuth’s men were done trying to scare her by destroying her club. Her security team was headed up by a rather testy alpha male shifter and he’d kill first and ask questions later. This would only lead to more bloodshed. Helmuth was into some dark and twisted shit now. More than his normal and Jinx didn’t want the wrath of it brought down on her people.
As it stood, Helmuth was annoyed with her putting her nose into his affairs. If his men ended up dead after paying her a visit, she’d have a mess like the one on the docks and she didn’t want that.
H
elmuth’s goons had been sent to scare her because she’d dared to put a kink in his plans and foil his attempt to kidnap two people. He was pissed and this was his way of making that known to her.
She centered her gaze on Jasper. He was behind the bar and the ringleader of the current group. He moved in Helmuth’s tight inner circle. While he wasn’t Helmuth’s right-hand man, he certainly had the boss’s ear and blessing to be muscle when called for. He was a grade-A asshole who let power go to his head.
She shuddered at the thought of Helmuth. He’d fooled her upon his arrival in Seattle years ago. He’d entered her club looking for the same thing everyone else was who crossed her threshold—sex. As a succubus, Jinx excelled at sex. Her kind required sexual energy and sex to live and survive. This wasn’t a job to her or her people. It was a way to live. Something they needed. And they were good at what they did.
Very good.
No one had left unhappy yet and Jinx had been running sex establishments for centuries. It was easy since she’d basically stopped aging around the age of twenty-five. The more years she had under her belt, the more things changed for her. She’d actually cut back dramatically on taking clients years ago, feeding off the energy in the club instead. She’d made an exception with Helmuth and foolishly let her guard down with him. Once she realized what he truly was—a sick bastard—it was too late. He’d wormed his way into her life.
“So, you like helpin’ the enemy,” Jasper said snidely, pushing more bottles to the floor. He stared out from beady eyes. Five scars lined his right cheek. A sign he’d lost at least one fight in his past with a shifter male. She couldn’t hide her smile. She’d seen him without a shirt before and knew the damage went far beyond his face. Normally, she wouldn’t have gloated at someone else’s pain, but Jasper was a special kind of crazy. He’d been banned from her club years prior for his rough treatment of her girls.
Administrative Control Page 3
