by Amelia Jade
“You know. I tried being nice. But I can see you lack manners. So, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” The leader lifted a hand and motioned to the other two. “You two, go find the ambassad—”
He never finished his sentence. As it turns out, it’s tough to speak with a mouthful of fist. Braden stepped into the suckerpunch, hitting the other man as hard as he could, driving him back across the lobby. The blow started the shifter’s body spinning and he cracked a shin off one of the marble pillars, damaging the pillar and probably the shifter, judging by the cry of pain that burst from his mouth.
The two associates had already been building up speed as they moved to go around Braden and then deeper into the lobby. But at the sight of their leader going down they shared a glance, and then as one altered their course until they were converging on him.
“Uh-oh,” he said to himself. There was next to no time for him to think out a response, so he went on instinct.
His knees bent slightly, then flexed, and just before either one of them could slam into him he flung himself high into the air. The goal was to catch them by surprise, and perhaps hope that they collided with each other. At worst, they would have to halt their forward momentum and turn back to attack him, giving Braden precious seconds to react.
Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. The attacker on his left was a half-step closer, and his hand closed around Braden’s ankle. Braden, still on the way up, had his motion abruptly halted. His left leg screamed in agony as it was jolted hard, the joints bursting into flaming pain.
The attacker was also going forward. Which meant he took Braden’s foot with him. Leaving his upper body behind. With a yelp he fell headfirst to the ground. As the marble tiles approached he attempted to duck and roll, but he’d forgotten about the hand on his foot. So instead of rolling, he simply landed on his right shoulder. Something popped, but he didn’t have time to figure out what.
By then the enemy shifter had started to slow, and now he pivoted, flinging the arm that had Braden’s ankle out wide and around in a circle. Braden shouted as he whipped around twice like a lasso.
“Don’t let go!” he hollered.
Of course the other shifter let go. Braden soared through the air, somehow managing not to hit any of the pillars in the lobby. He hit the ground with his back, but it was oddly a much softer landing than expected. As he regained his wits, it became clear that he’d actually ended up atop the leader, who had just begun to regain his feet before Braden came flying into him like a wrecking ball.
“Nice aim,” he taunted, driving his elbow backward until it cracked into the face of the leader. Skin split, bone broke, and blood began to leak everywhere. Braden repeated the motion twice more.
After that he leapt to his feet. One of the lackeys was advancing on him, the other had gone down the hallway toward Andrew’s office. Braden wasn’t entirely sure if he was there or in his room, but if he was, the attacker was in for a rude surprise.
Braden met the remaining shifter in a headlong rush. The two collided hard, fighting more like animals now than humans. He started to overpower his foe, but a blind-side kick to his weakened left leg bent it under him, driving Braden toward the floor. Hammerfists rained down on him from above, but he blocked them with crossed arms, waiting for an opening.
There! It was a brief hesitation, a simple readjustment of position, but it was all Braden needed. He flung himself backward, bringing his legs up and kicking them out as hard as he could. Size sixteen boots hit the attacker square in the chest, launching him up into the air and onto the second level of the balcony.
Where is everyone else? Why is nobody responding to the noise yet?
Braden wasn’t sure, but while he was waiting he ducked a wild swing from the leader, who, despite being unable to see out of one eye, had risen to his feet and closed the distance.
It wasn’t even difficult. Braden darted to the side, and drove a fist into his face. He only had time for the one, but as the leader tried to square him up again Braden feinted for the blind side, then came around and hit him in his good side, catching the leader completely off guard. This time his fist sent the shifter to the ground. He reached down and casually snapped the man’s shin before he could gather himself.
“Stay down,” he growled, turning back just as the shifter he’d kicked launched himself off the balcony, feet pointed right at Braden. “That was dumb.”
He wasn’t sure why the subordinate shifter thought a dropkick was the best move to use in that situation, but he wasn’t going to argue the easy opening. It wouldn’t have worked with a human; their reflexes were too slow. But it was child’s play for the trained bear shifter.
Braden waited, standing square to the incoming body until the last second. Then he ducked under it, his arms coming up around his sides. He rose with his back in a slightly hunched position, his arms above his head.
Once the body of his foe had passed by him Braden clamped his hands tight together, and once he had a grip he drove himself forward.
The shifter’s neck broke easily over his shoulder as his vise-like hands refused to release his head. Hanging limply now, his feet still dangling off the ground while they ‘stood’ back to back, the corpse shook once or twice. Then Braden sighed and dropped his grip. The dead shifter slid down his back into a pile on the floor.
From down the hallway where the third shifter had disappeared there was an angry roar, and something that had once been a body came flying back up it, bouncing off the wall and landing in the lobby. Braden winced as he realized the head was rotated a full 180 degrees.
“They didn’t tell you that the ambassador is a gryphon shifter, did they?” he asked, gripping the hair of the leader and jerking his mangled face up until Braden could look at him in the eye.
Or where the eyes would be if the skin around them wasn’t all swollen shut.
The leader didn’t answer.
Footsteps came storming up the hallway.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Andrew bellowed.
“They were here to arrest you for some reason. They wouldn’t tell me who they are, or who sent them.”
“Oh, I can tell you who sent them,” the angry ambassador snarled. “Cadian Intelligence, that’s who. I recognize that bastard there,” he said, stabbing a finger at the leader. “His name is Drackon, he’s the third or fourth in the chain of command. Slimy little fucker, but not so good in a standup fight.”
“Shit.” It wasn’t much of a response, but it was all Braden had at the moment. “Why would they be here to arrest you?”
Andrew just snorted. Braden shook his head. Duh, he knew the answer to that one. The shifters living on the north side of town. Certain parties within Cadia, ones that the king, the ruler of the territory, couldn’t control just yet. They used Cadian Intelligence to do their dirty deeds. Including, it would seem, arresting and then likely disposing of one Andrew Raskell, Cadian ambassador to Cloud Lake.
He rose. “You can’t let him live,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“We need to kill them all. No survivors. Get rid of the bodies. Repair the lobby ASAP. Then pretend like they never got here. We’ve never seen them.”
“Why?” Andrew regarded him intensely.
“It’ll buy you time to prepare, sir,” he said quietly.
“Prepare for what?”
“Whatever their next move is.”
Andrew thought about it, then nodded once. “Agreed. You deal with the bodies, I’ll start organizing a cleanup and repair crew.”
Braden returned the nod, slammed a fist over his chest in a Cadian-style salute, and without hesitation reached down and snapped the neck of the leader.
He felt mildly uncomfortable at the cold-bloodedness of the murder, but he knew it had to be done.
Now to dispose of the bodies somewhere they won’t be found.
Chapter Sixteen
Braden
He looked up from the little dolls that h
e and Gwenevere were playing with, eyes narrowed. Something had changed. His senses were screaming at him, telling him to pay attention, to figure out what it was. Finally his gaze landed on Elle.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked up, startled. “Pardon?”
“Something’s bothering you. Your shoulders are hunched forward, you’re wringing your hands ever so slightly, and your breathing is heavier.”
“Well that’s mighty observant of you. And a little creepy, to be blunt.”
She was deflecting, trying to dodge his question. Unfortunately for her, Braden wasn’t one that was easily pushed aside once he set himself to something.
“Elle,” he rumbled, ensuring that Gwen was occupied all on her own before rising and joining her on the couch. The wooden frame creaked as he settled his three-hundred-odd pounds of muscle onto it. “You don’t need to hide from me. Please. Trust me. What’s going on?”
His mate looked away, but when he found her hand with his, she didn’t pull back. She wanted to talk, that was clear. So Braden simply waited, giving her time to arrange her thoughts, organize her ideas, and formulate the words that would best convey her point. He was in no rush. The only thing that was on his agenda right then was ensuring that his mate was the happiest woman in the world. If she needed someone to listen, he had her back.
“I’m going crazy.”
Braden’s eyes slowly closed and then opened again. “Try that again?”
“Not that kind of crazy.”
He sighed in relief.
“Stir crazy. I need to do something. To be doing something.”
“Okay.” He popped up from the couch, attempting to pull her up after him in a much more restrained fashion. But she just stayed sitting, tugging his hand back toward her. “What? Let’s go. I’ll get Gwen dressed. We’ll go for a walk.”
She sighed, lowering her gaze to the floor. Braden frowned. Obviously whatever he’d said, his intentions were misplaced. Elle was looking for something else.
“That’s not what I meant, B,” she said, shortening his name to only a single letter.
If he’d ever heard a plea for understanding before, this was it. Still confused, but wanting to do whatever she needed of him, he sat back down, clasping her hand within his and doing that thing he’d learned was so necessary with women.
He waited.
“I’m not talking about today. Or yesterday, or tomorrow. I mean overall.” Her eyes lifted now, imploring him to understand.
Braden considered his words very carefully. “You need something else besides being a mother,” he stated at last, confident that he’d finally understood her dilemma.
“Yes.” The word came out like the air from a balloon, deflating Elle as it left. She sagged into him, her ponytail draping itself over his arm as she rubbed her head back and forth against his skin, dragging the dirty-blonde hair with it. “I need outttttt.” The last word was dragged out over several syllables.
“Now you’re overexaggerating it,” he said firmly.
“I know,” she admitted, sitting up straight. “I know. It’s just, I’ve been dealing with this for quite some time on my own, trying to figure out what to do, where to do it, anything that I can come up with that is feasible for me to do with my situation the way it is.”
Braden’s lips flattened into a line. “I take it, judging by our conversation, that you haven’t been able to come up with anything?”
“Nothing. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a job you can bring an infant to?”
“A job?” He frowned again, a deeply unsettled look. “Have you tried a hobby? Something fun, or at least in a group setting?”
“I get together with all the other moms. We have a single glass of wine—well, some of us do—and we all fawn over how amazing our kids are.” She held up a hand to forestall his comment. “Don’t get me wrong. That’s fun, and all the kids are amazing. But dammit, I need something more!”
It took some doing, but Braden kept his mouth shut. Jobs were something she didn’t need to worry about. He was now in the picture, and had every intention of funding their lives together. Elle would never want for money again. Couldn’t she see that? A hobby would be a much more worthwhile use of her time. She could find friends, new friends, learn new skills, and all of that time be doing something she wanted to do. Not working a stupid job where she was forced to do all kinds of inane things.
“What are all the others doing? Anything?”
Elle shook her head. “Nothing that has been shared. I mean, Angela runs the Mommy and Me fitness classes. The others have tried things here or there, but nothing has stuck. Nothing that they really want to keep doing. Besides, they all have men in their lives, and so they’re busy being a family.”
He winced as her jaw slammed shut, embarrassed realization spreading across her features as her words registered.
“Oh my goodness, that’s not what I mean,” she sputtered, but he shook his head, using his hands to quiet her.
“I know what you meant. Trust me.” Braden held one of her hands tightly, kissing the back of it. “I’m serious. They’ve been together for a lot longer than we have. So they have an established routine as partners, and they know that they’re going to be together forever.”
The last part hurt him to say out loud, but until Elle was ready to acknowledge that they too were destined for eternity with one another, he wasn’t going to say anything. Forcing a decision upon her was not how he wanted their forever and a day to start—or heaven forbid, end. So, he once more played the patience card, though he was quickly running out of it. It was hard to keep it contained within himself just how much she meant to him, and how happy he was to have found his mate.
One day you can tell her. Just not today.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, giving his hand a squeeze.
Braden squeezed back. That was just another thing he loved about her—how intimate and touchy she was. Humans of all types, even half-ones like himself, loved to be touched. To feel the press of another, especially one who cared deeply. It warmed his soul.
“You’re frustrated with the situation. I get that. I don’t blame you for speaking in generalities, not being specific or making a one-time exemption for us. I hate people that do that,” he growled, genuine ire spilling out into his words. “You know what I mean? When someone makes a generality like ‘Most people get irritated by those people who walk on the left, not the right.’ And then someone has to chime in and mention how they know somebody who just doesn’t care about that. Well duh, that’s why I said most people in the first place you—”
Braden cut himself off as his anger started to build. This wasn’t about him, and his pet peeves. This was about Elle, and what she was struggling with. He needed to return the focus to her.
“My point is, I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Elle was smiling. “Thank you. I’ll be sure I always walk on the right-hand side now when I’m around you.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’d better! Otherwise I’m going to make last night seem like a love tap.”
She readjusted the way she was sitting on her rear and gave him a look that was mixed parts suggestive “Oh yeah?” and flat-eyed “No you won’t.”
Braden just grinned, more than willing to call her bluff on that one.
“Okay, but seriously,” she said, returning to the issue at hand. “I need to do something to occupy my time. To make some more money. Even part-time. Heck, I’d do dog walking. I can take Gwen with me to do that.”
“You don’t need to do it for money.”
“I don’t want to do it for free if I can get paid.” Elle looked at him like he was crazy.
“No,” he said, laughing. “That’s not what I meant! I meant, you should stop being so concerned about money.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly swimming in cash,” she said dryly, crossing her arms. “Where else am I supposed to get money?”
That wasn’t a good sign. Braden suddenly wondered if he’d made a mistake in going down this line of conversation. He could sense the jaws of the trap, spread wide around him, but there didn’t seem to be much in the way of escape. No matter how he inspected that question, either he wound up agreeing with Elle that she needed to get a job, or he stepped face-first into the trap.
Never one to shy away, and determined to convince her that she needn’t worry about money now that he was around, Braden strode forward willingly. “If you need money, just let me know. I’ll get whatever it is you need. You just have to tell me.”
“I’m not a charity case.”
The words came so swiftly that he realized she’d been prepared for it all along. This was something else then that had been eating at her. Something that she’d not mentioned to him. How could she view him spoiling her the same as if she were accepting charity? It was so not even close to being the same!
“I don’t believe anyone ever suggested you were,” he replied a little more darkly than intended. Perhaps he was more upset that she viewed what he was doing as charity, instead of a need to give his mate anything she could ever desire.
“I’m not going to let you pay for everything for me!”
“Why the hell not?” he shot back. “It’s not like I have anything else to do with the money! Why can’t I spend it on you and Gwenevere?”
“Don’t you dare drag her into this!” Elle snapped. “This is not about her. You will not use her needs against me.”
“I’m not trying to do that!” he all but shouted, only just managing to keep his voice down so that they didn’t disturb Gwen. “I’m just trying to give you everything you could ever want. I want to make you happy,” he added, tossing his hands into the air in frustration. “How is that a bad thing?”
