by Addison Fox
Couldn’t let her face the danger that would come with riling up the monsters that hid in the DA’s office.
Finley ran her thumbs over the pattern on the glass. “I shouldn’t have been there, so I’m not planning on saying anything. My boss wouldn’t be very happy to find out I specifically defied a direct order.”
“So why did you?”
“I couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to figure out what was going on.”
“Gavelli’s men know who you are. Now so do Lavano’s men.”
“Grey, this is New York City. There’s not a thug in New York who doesn’t know who works in the DA’s office. This isn’t the first time I was a target. I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
Grey finished his drink in one large swallow, the thought of her facing that danger alone sending ice-cold fear winging through his veins. Settling the glass on the coffee table, he managed to keep his voice to a quiet whisper. “You were captured.”
“It was a calculated risk.”
The simmering anger that had roiled in his gut since he looked out of the storeroom and saw her at gunpoint erupted. “Like hell it was!”
Other than those bright blue eyes going wide with surprise, she didn’t even flinch at his raised voice. Instead, she leaned forward, the hard set of her slender shoulders proof positive she felt no remorse about her decisions that evening. “Grey, I knew what I was getting into.”
“Bullshit. I want to know how you got a tip about Gavelli’s meeting and then ended up at gunpoint.”
“My colleague Melanie gave me the tip. Gave it to both of us—my boss, Charlie, and me. He forbade me to go. Forbade both of us to get involved.”
“So Melanie’s responsible for setting you up?”
“But then why would she have told Charlie about it? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Anger had him in its cold, pointy claws, but he held his voice steady. “It makes perfect sense. She knew you wouldn’t be able to resist going exactly where you didn’t belong.”
“She has nothing to gain. Why would she own up to a tip, tell our boss and then use it against me?”
Grey wasn’t ready to let their illustrious DA or his staff off the hook just yet, but she had a point. It would also be an incredibly poor move for her colleagues to suddenly make themselves targets if she’d gone missing.
“Why did you go into that warehouse? People do lots of dumb things.”
The dumb comment had her back up, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “I had an opportunity and I took it.”
“Well, then, Miss Opportunity. It looks like we have a new mystery to figure out.”
“What’s this ‘we,’ Grey? This is my problem. And if it is someone in my office, I’ll deal with it.”
“No, you won’t. Not on your own.”
She lifted her gaze to his, heat rising quickly in the sea of blue. “You don’t have a say in it.”
“Fuck if I don’t.” Grey didn’t think—didn’t keep the cool head he prided himself on.
Instead he simply acted.
Reaching for her waist, he dragged her forward on the couch, the leather making it easy to pull her slender frame forward. Unable to see anything but her—unable to think about anything but her—he slammed his lips on hers, fusing their mouths in a rush of heat and need and such soul-pounding fear he didn’t know if his heart would ever stop thumping against his ribs at triple its normal speed.
The need to consume her simply filled him and he was unable to stop the rush of heat as their tongues met and plundered.
Possessed.
A soft sigh left her throat as she moved against him, her hands closing the distance between them to run her fingers over his shoulders. When she leaned forward and nipped his lower lip with her teeth, Grey felt his heart speed up for a reason far different than fear.
This was need. Raw and yet surprisingly sweet, he knew with harsh honesty it could only be sated by her.
Finley.
Grey pulled back, reluctantly dragging his mouth from hers, as he stared into the mysterious blue depths of her eyes. The fear struck again without warning, the image of a gun pressed against her body one he couldn’t erase.
Eris snapped her cell phone closed, took stock of her current situation and repressed the urge to scream. Instead, she snagged a towel from the hall closet and headed for her workout room.
Damn humans. They really couldn’t find their asses with both hands and a flashlight.
The Golden Apple was the perfect weapon. She’d protected it well since the Trojan War and used it sparingly through the years. It was a powerful tool and it wasn’t to be leveraged lightly.
She’d protected it for thousands of years and now it was not only out in the open, but in the hands of Themis’s boys.
Unacceptable.
Her two-bedroom home was small by Mount Olympus’s standards, but it suited her just fine. One bedroom was for her and the second was for her workout equipment.
What else did she need?
She flipped on some music, climbed on the elliptical and set the resistance on eight. Within moments she was sweating as Lady Gaga blared through the speakers.
Involving herself with organized crime had been a calculated risk. Realistically, she knew that. But New York’s crime families were the perfect diversion for her plans. Get the city’s peacekeepers focused on a resurgence in turf warfare and then step in and let the real fireworks start.
The plan had been perfect.
Until one of Themis’s Warriors got his hands on the apple. That beautiful little device that channeled all of her abilities into one small, unassuming package.
It had been shockingly simple to create all those many years ago and despite trying so many other things through the years, she was rather fond of her apple.
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Who wants the power to rule the city?
It was an easy leap—you simply played on whatever an individual wanted in the deepest part of themselves—and you let good old-fashioned human nature do its job.
Eris jumped off the elliptical and switched to a weight machine. With even breaths she pushed the bars up and down, never breaking her stride as she let her mind whirl through her problem.
Her new weapon was close to ready, but it needed a bit more work. And losing the apple put a serious chink in her armor, so she needed to figure out a way to get it back.
Rogan? Could she use him for that?
A shot of warmth suffused her as she started on her third set of reps.
Who the hell was she kidding? She could use Rogan for just one thing.
Anytime, anywhere.
That didn’t mean he’d fuck over his brothers for her. And, if she were honest with herself, that was one area she wasn’t crazy about tainting with her job.
She and the Sagittarius had an understanding. A rather delicious understanding. And she wasn’t interested in losing it over a problem she could find a solution to all by herself.
Finishing up on the weights, she moved to a mat on the floor and went through a few stretches to cool down. Although the exercises weren’t technically necessary when you had an immortal body and a youthful physique that never aged, she found the time well spent and more than a little therapeutic.
Unlike her sister, Enyo, who found solace in self-pity, pouting and nasty, vengeful tricks, Eris found a more inwardly focused approach worked wonders. It allowed her to think clearly and rationally—a skill fairly underdeveloped on Mount Olympus.
Moving to the fridge, she snagged a large bottle of water and downed the crisp, cool drink. The ringing peal of her phone announced a text and she moved across the kitchen to grab it.
YOU FREE?
Rogan.
On another swig of water, she thought about how to play it. A quick “yes”? Or a definitive “no,” because she really was becoming far too dependent on the delights to be found in his arms.
Oh, who was she kidding?
Snat
ching up the phone, she texted back before she could second-guess herself.
SEE YOU AT OUR USUAL PLACE. MIDNIGHT.
Tossing the phone onto the counter, she headed for the shower.
She might not know yet how to fix her problem.
But scratching an itch always helped a girl think better.
“Emerson? You okay?”
A loud sniffle rumbled against his shoulder. “Not yet.”
Drake ran his hands over her back in soothing circles as he held her in his arms.
His side still stung, but he refused to let her go. She was so tough around him—so unwilling to show vulnerability of any kind—that the moment had an odd sweetness he was loath to let go of.
“I’m fine now. The wound’s already healing.”
“You were bleeding all over my floor ten minutes ago.”
Drake shifted and reached for her chin, tilting her head up until her gaze met his. “Well, it’s ten minutes later and I’m on the mend.”
“I pulled a bullet out of you.”
“Thanks.”
“How can you take this so calmly?” Her gray eyes were wet from her tears.
“It’s what I do, Emerson.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m fine with it.”
“But you always come home bloody and bruised.”
“Just how would you know that?”
A sweet blush crept into her cheeks, despite the tanned color of her skin. “Callie’s mentioned it before.”
“Oh really? What did she say, exactly?”
“She just mentioned your missions take a toll on you. The others, too,” she added after a beat.
“We’re immortal, Emerson. It’s a bit painful at the time, but we regenerate. Callie cooks us a load of food and we get our strength back. It doesn’t last.”
She scooted back and got to her feet, reaching for the discarded towels on the floor. “What made you think going after a crime boss made any sense?”
He watched the sweet curve of her ass covered in thin cotton yoga pants. It wasn’t until she’d left the room and he heard her enter the bathroom that her words reminded him of what he’d removed from the scene. “Did I drop anything when I came in?”
“You mean other than you?” Her voice echoed back at him from down the hall.
“What?”
Emerson padded back into the room on bare feet. “You fell to the floor like a tipped cow.”
He couldn’t resist. “You’ve been cow tipping?”
“One of my aunts lived on a farm upstate. We spent summers there when I was a teenager.”
Fascinating. He kept the thought to himself, instead opting for, “Now that we’ve got that settled, where did I fall?”
“Over there. Foot of the bed.”
Drake rolled onto his stomach to search the area under the bed. The darkened room made it hard to see, but he shoved his hands under the mattress frame, satisfied when he made contact with the sharp end of a pin.
Snagging it, he pulled it out and held it up in the soft light of her bedside table.
“What is that?” Emerson sat down next to him. “It looks like a pin of some sort. An apple?”
“Yep.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Off the crime boss you were so worried about me going after.”
“Your mission was to snag a piece of jewelry?” She reached for it, holding the apple up to turn it in the light, her movements so like his own.
Drake marveled at the delicate lines of her body. The slender taper of her fingers with finely sculpted nails as she held the small piece of jewelry. The line of her neck and the soft hair that lay at the nape.
She was small and feminine, and no matter how hard he tried he could not get this one woman out of his system. In fact, he realized with a start, he had no interest in getting her out of his system. “Are we actually having a conversation?”
“Hmmm?” She turned the pin again in the muted light of the bedside lamp.
“You and me. Is this a real conversation?”
Emerson’s gray eyes snapped to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s nice. Talking to each other. Just like I knew it would be.”
“Look, Ace. You’re the one who came in bleeding all over my floor. If you’re okay enough to give me shit about it, maybe you’re okay enough to head home.”
The silky tendrils of frustration uncurled in his belly as the moment morphed from tender to tense in the space of a heartbeat. “And here we go.”
“You’ve got a problem with me?”
“Yeah, I do. I can’t see why you willingly ignore what’s between us. Because when you forget about it, like you just did, you seem awfully comfortable in my presence.”
“I regularly get naked in your presence. I ought to feel comfortable with you.”
Drake saw the wall—he’d have to be deaf, dumb, blind and dead to miss it—and puzzled at the reasons for it. “That’s not the only way I see you.”
“Naked?”
“I desire you, Emerson. I won’t deny it. But it’s not the only reason I spend time with you.”
She handed him the apple before moving to fiddle with the knob on her dresser. “Why do you keep pushing for more?”
“Why do you keep pushing for less?” Drake shoved the pin in his pants pocket, not in the least surprised when it pulsed warmly against his hip.
On a smooth move, she dragged the T-shirt he’d given her earlier over her head and had a new one out of the top drawer of her dresser. He couldn’t deny that very desire as it whipped through his veins, his gaze drinking her in.
But it wasn’t all he saw.
He also saw the harsh set of her impossibly slim shoulders as they fought to hold up her world. The proud tilt of her head as it sat atop a spine stiff with pride. The capable strength in her hands as she pulled on a new shirt, one far more fitted to her frame.
“We don’t want the same things, Drake.”
The pin pulsed hotter in his pocket and he couldn’t help but wonder if their argument somehow fired the item. It was the Apple of Discord and he and Emerson weren’t exactly having a pleasant moment.
A necessary one, but far from harmonious.
“Don’t we?”
Whirling from the dresser, she stalked toward him. “No, we don’t. I wanted a no-strings-attached fling. We were agreed on that from the very first. Hell, I’ve seen you and your brothers. You’re the sex squad, for fuck’s sake. You don’t look like a team of men who are hard up for sex; nor do you look like a bunch of men who have to tie yourselves to a woman to get laid regularly.”
“You think that’s what a relationship with someone is all about? That the only reason to tie yourself to someone is to get laid? That it’s some sort of cop-out? Or consolation prize? Because let me tell you, sweetheart. I’ve seen my Warrior brothers since they’ve married their wives. You’ve got it wrong.”
He leaped up and closed the gap between them, ignoring the twinge that still burned in his side from the bullet. “All wrong.”
Drake reached for her and pulled her close, even as she immediately started to protest, her voice etching out on a loud squeak. “What are you doing?”
“You’re no consolation prize and I’ll be damned if you treat what’s between us like it is one.”
With one hand on the back of her neck, he drew her close. His other hand settled on her lower back, pulling their bodies flush against each other. He covered her mouth with his, the last of her protests fizzling out on a rush of air as she met him eagerly.
The plump cushion of her lips met his in hard, greedy motions designed to take.
To plunder.
And then her clever tongue followed, tangling with his, promising the delights of what always built between them. What her body already knew even as her mind stayed stubbornly separate.
The kiss continued to buffet him on a wild, ruthless ride of the senses. His fingers tightened on the thin material of her pants wh
ile with his other hand he reveled in the soft texture of the skin at the base of her neck. Despite her delicate frame, there was strength coiled under her skin and her muscles bunched under his touch.
“Tell me you know there’s more between us,” he ground out against her mouth.
“Tell me you want me,” she pressed back, her lips curving into a smile under his.
“Always.”
The moment stretched out as he waited for her answer. And then the phone at his waist rang, breaking the moment.
Ruining the spell between them once again.
“Saved by the bell.” Emerson’s tone was light, but the humor didn’t reach her eyes. “Is that the theme to Batman?”
“It’s Quinn.”
“It suits him.” She nodded, slipping under his arm and putting space between them. “Although, you should take better care of your phone. You know, from all that mysterious ringtone sabotage.”
“What do you want?” he barked in answer.
Quinn’s tone was no less upset. “You were shot, Drake. Where the hell are you?”
“Emerson’s.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Is Grey there?”
“No. And I haven’t made contact yet. Did you get the pin?”
Drake patted his pocket, the lapel pin still safely in place. “Yeah. I’ve got it. I’ll be right over.”
He shoved the phone back in his pocket and reached for the pin in the other. “I need to get back.”
The sexy teasing was gone from Emerson’s voice, replaced by a levelheaded coolness that suggested she knew how to handle herself in difficult situations. “What happened?”
“Grey hasn’t come home yet.”
“Is he hurt?”
“I don’t know. He got out of there before me. With someone.”
Emerson’s eyes widened on that. “One of the thugs went with him?”
“No. A woman. His contact who told him about the meet in the first place. I need to go.”
“It’s probably for the best.”
The words pierced him far more lethally than any battle he’d ever participated in, but he forced himself to stay calm and not take the bait.
Instead, he walked forward and placed a finger under her chin, forcing her gaze up to his. “I just can’t agree with you.”
