Spellbound by the Sea Lord

by Starla Night

  If she didn’t have the necklace, she couldn’t sneak the blossom out or store it. That was the excuse she’d give the Sons of Hercules when they demanded why she’d failed. Hence, into the trash it went.

  Bella put her cell phone beside the necklace in the bag and folded the top to seal it closed.

  Dumping her cell phone like this created more problems. How sophisticated were the Sons of Hercules? Starr didn’t want Bella carrying an electronics device she hadn’t inspected. If the violent disorganized college students had even a fraction of Starr’s technical skills, Bella’s devices were endangered.

  Bella didn’t take any viruses into her son’s hospital room. She wouldn’t take any digital viruses into the MerMatch offices, either.

  She left the bag balanced on the trash and exited the stall. A gray hoodie-clad, nondescript woman entered the restroom and pushed past her. They didn’t make eye contact. The woman ducked into the stall Bella had just vacated and locked the door.

  Hopefully that woman was Starr’s contact. But if not, who rooted around in a suspiciously used feminine hygene bag?

  Bella stopped before the scratched-up mirror, mussed her hair, and “roughed up” her clothes. She put on a frightened expression, perfect for suggesting she’d just been mugged, and exited the restrooms—right into a station attendant.

  Uh oh.

  She bounced off the attendant and exaggerated a flustered expression—not hard—and then stood indecisively looking after the attendant. Was she being photographed by Sons of Hercules spies inside the station? She had to look mugged but she couldn’t report an actual mugging.

  Bella wavered, then made a show of seeking a station clock and acting horrified by the time. She avoided the station attendants and hurried outside.

  In real life, Bella would be late to a date in order to get justice against a mugger, especially if her son’s health was on the line, but hopefully the Sons of Hercules would buy her story that she’d been too flustered to make a report.

  This all assumed the Sons of Hercules were even watching her and needed to be convinced.

  The first time Bella had spied for Starr, they’d worked alone. No fancy equipment, no connections, no experience. No contingency plans. Now, Starr had a lot of everything, including paranoia. Her planning had leveled up exponentially, and even though they faced more numerous and mysterious opponents, Bella felt a lot more secure.

  She continued enacting Starr’s plan.

  Outside the station, Bella bought a cell phone from a “random guy” on the street hawking cell phones. She pulled the “secret” credit card that had “survived her not-mugging” from her tight bra and swiped it in his reader—because in New York, even the homeless accepted plastic—and ignored the low funds alert. The man shoved a basic, pre-owned cell phone at her and walked off.

  She powered the new-to-her phone on as she strode away from the station. Everything had gone perfectly. She hoped. A cute blue star greeted her on the loading screen. She input the pre-arranged password and dialed in to connect to Starr’s network.

  Bella hurried through more miserable drizzle the last blocks to the MerMatch office building. The repurposed tenement was only a few blocks from her work, and she almost turned the wrong direction on the pedestrian thoroughfare. Brown concrete and tinted glass rose six floors into the cloudy gray sky; between buildings, the ocean canal was a gray smudge.

  Her new phone buzzed. Video recording had started, and it connected to a private network. Bella lifted the screen saver to get the rest of Starr’s devices. She peeled two metal dots embedded beneath the plastic and stuck them to the backs of her ears. Their adhesive had survived being stuck to the phone and with her hair down they should be invisible.

  “Oh, hello.” Her half sister, Starr, greeted her with the usual stuffiness. The dots made her words sound like they were inside Bella’s ears. Starr suffered from allergies. “What a gray, dismal day for a break-in.”

  “Fall in New York is supposed to be beautiful,” Bella murmured.

  “Great. Very clear. Now, drop the phone in your purse and speak again.”

  She stowed the phone as instructed. “Oh, well. Maybe next year.”

  “Clear as a bell. We are a go.”

  Bella tightened her stole around her shoulders and climbed the few steps to the glassed-in lobby. A security officer on the top step nodded at her. Another officer peered out.

  Security was tighter than last time.

  Her belly twinged with nerves. Butterflies banged into each other.

  This was it. The mermen didn’t know it, but they were counting on her. She sucked in a deep breath, straightened, and entered.

  She passed her purse through the metal detector. The officer ran a wand over her tight dress. Her earrings buzzed.

  Bella smiled. “Titanium.”

  The officer narrowed her eyes. “For jewelry?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “They should have seen the fishbowl-sized necklace you were trying to smuggle in. My friend picked it up, by the way. As we suspected, he said your phone’s chock-full of spyware.”

  Him? Good job, Starr’s contact. Bella had thought he was a woman.

  The officer studied the square ingots in Bella’s ears and stepped back, waving her to go ahead.

  She shouldered her purse and crossed the lobby.

  Starr snorted. “Titanium? Really?”

  Bella hummed the song, “I am Titanium,” about enemies shooting her down but refusing to fall. She twirled as though marveling at the architecture.

  “I see…security cameras. Heat sensors, motion. Good coverage, and a good brand. Windows are covered, as we expected. I looked up the building schematics and the security team is adequate to cover the general security. No audio jammers yet, but prepare to lose me in the elevator.”

  A caramel-brunette in a white business suit sat on a slim bench next to the elevators. She typed something on her phone with her thumbs and stood. “Bella? I’m Hazel Gray from MerMatch. You’re late.”

  “I got mugged in the subway.”

  “Ugh.” Hazel pulled something out of her purse and raised a fist. “That happened to me three times last year. This year, I’m prepared.” She opened her fist to display a mini personal defense system.

  “Is that mace, a Taser, and an air siren?”

  “I like this girl,” Starr said.

  “For people who take personal defense seriously.” Hazel packed it back into her purse. “No one’s getting the drop on me now. And if they do, they’ll regret it.”

  Bella smiled with just the right touch of schadenfreude. “New York.”

  Hazel pulled papers from her tan messenger bag. “Here are the forms Dannika mentioned.”

  “Oh, are we signing here? Not up in the office?”

  “We’ve had too many close calls. Dannika said no strangers after hours.”

  “Ooh, ask her who’s getting in during regular hours,” Starr said in her ear.

  “That’s understandable. Rubberneckers must flood your office during regular hours.”

  “Ha! No. Everyone uses the website.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Tourists get weeded out here.” Hazel tapped her pen on the papers thoughtfully. “You know, now that you mention it, I barely let in any strangers. It’s weird.”

  “You never let in anybody without an appointment?”

  “Yep. Not a soul.”

  “No one at all?”

  “Oh. Well.” She rolled her eyes. Not at Bella, but at her memory. “I mean, aside from us. The mer warriors. And the window washers last week. And the AC guys. Oh, and these painter guys, but they left without painting anything. You know, nothing but ordinary business maintenance.”

  “Bingo,” Starr said. “Well, the office is probably crammed with spy stuff. I bet you can’t fart in there without somebody hearing it.”

  “But you had to let them in?” Bella pressed. “They were doing building maintenance, and the landlor
d didn’t give them a temporary key?”

  “The landlord can’t just give out keys. Somebody could misuse it and break in.”

  “Aw. So close to the truth and so far from realizing it. Bless.”

  Bella took Hazel’s pen. Nondisclosures, privacy agreements, promises not to go on talk shows or write books about tonight’s date. She scribbled her signature without reading.

  None of this mattered.

  But to pretend it did, she released a ditzy laugh and gushed. “I’m so excited. You see Balim every day. Do you have any tips for me?”

  “Don’t be a terrorist.”

  “Hardy har har,” Starr said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Bella said.

  “Not that she’d know if you didn’t.”

  Hazel stowed the signed forms and swung the bag over her shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”

  They entered the elevator. The doors closed.

  “You don’t enjoy first dates?” Bella asked.

  “They are the most wretched, awkward, pointless wastes of time.” Hazel fiddled with her phone, shaking it as though not realizing being isolated inside a solid steel box would break the Wi-Fi connection. “But if you mean do I enjoy catering dates for the mermen, getting shot at and poisoned takes the bloom off the rose. I started as a receptionist, you know. I didn’t sign up for violent hate crimes.”

  “Yet, here you are.”

  Hazel blew her caramel bangs out of her face. “Yep. Here I am.”

  “Caring about someone changes what risks you’re willing to take.”

  Hazel blinked and then her shoulders softened. “Well, yeah. It’s not the guys’ faults. It’s those stupid college kids. All the warriors want is to fall in love, have warrior kids, and repopulate their cities. I can’t stand by and watch some disturbed, faux-adult man-children with anger issues ruin it for them, can I?”

  Bella smiled.

  Hazel rocked on her heels, a nervous tic, but she was friendlier as she led the way out of the elevator onto the rooftop. “I hope that jacket is warmer than it looks.”

  “I’m used to putting my shoulder to the cold.”

  “That’s so deep,” Starr commented.

  Bella snorted.

  Hazel glanced back at her in curiosity.

  Bella smiled blandly. Starr calmed her butterflies.

  She’d met and wooed clients a million times. All she had to do was ask innocuous questions while her sister audited their security. After a socially acceptable period, Bella would convince Balim to let her into the MerMatch office. She’d do what Starr needed to inspect, take over, and secure the space.

  Starr would learn how the Sons of Hercules hacked in. With any luck, she’d ghost them back to their origin and expose their identities along with their crimes before anyone else got hurt. And if her investigation took longer than tonight, Bella would string them along until Starr succeeded.

  And after having done the mermen another favor, if any new cures arose to try on Jonah, they would call her first.

  Balim was a doctor. It shouldn’t be too hard to pass the next hours with him.

  “Here’s Dannika.” Hazel gestured at a willowy woman in a vibrant blue, high-fashion caftan, and designer navy-to-baby-blue ombre scarf. “Save room for dessert. I made raspberry mousse.”

  “Bella Taylor.”

  Dannika extended ring-covered hands and clasped Bella warmly, just like she had whenever they’d met—at the photo studio, the marketing conference rooms, or the kosher deli in the atrium. The socialite was good friends with Bella’s boss at Vibrant Image Marketing.

  “I’m so glad to see you again. How is your son, Jonah?”

  “Holding steady.” Bella returned Dannika’s squeeze. Heirloom diamonds, rubies, and emeralds on Dannika’s rings made her hands heavy in Bella’s grip. “Thank you so much for keeping us in your thoughts.”

  “Yes, of course. You look lovely.”

  “I love your ombre.”

  “Balim’s waiting for you by the pergola.” Dannika’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Come. Let me show you.”

  The women strolled between boxed planters full of sweet-smelling sages, lavenders, chamomiles, trellises covered in blue and yellow passionflowers, and benches arranged with orange poppies and indigo morning glories. All closed up in the damp, chilly night, but the garden still glimmered like a fairy land dotted with landscaping lights like twinkling fireflies.

  “That’s so beautiful,” Starr said wistfully. “I wish more than anything I could see it in real life.”

  “This is more extensive than my building’s rooftop garden,” Bella commented.

  “Yes, the owner is a dear friend and allowed me to have a free hand with creativity.” Dannika directed Bella to the corner of the garden where the night-blooming flowers twined around stone statues—evening primrose, wisteria, chocolate flowers, jessamine, and moonflowers.

  “Hey, those are all aphrodisiacs,” Starr commented.

  “How romantic for a first date,” Bella murmured aloud.

  Dannika glanced back at her, a smile of having been caught by surprise. “I’m so glad you agree.”

  She led Bella around a mossy wall to a covered shelter in the center of the misty rooftop garden. Curtains of wisteria parted on a rustic wooden table set with vintage rose plates and cutlery, and lit by thick jar candles. To the side was a small koi pond lined with decorative rock.

  “Wow. These mermen know what they’re doing in the romance department.”

  Bella agreed, although she suspected Dannika had more to do with creating the atmosphere than a water-born warrior.

  “And this is Balim,” Dannika said.

  Balim rose from the table.

  His gray suit complemented his intricate red facial tattoos. With hands loose in his slacks pockets, he tilted his chin, awaiting her judgment.

  She reached out to shake hands. “Hello, Balim. I’m—”

  His eyes locked on hers, and her words died midsentence.

  He was otherworldly, a warrior, and all male.

  Shock paralyzed her. Her heart thudded loud in her chest. Sweat dampened her palms.

  This could be my salvation.

  Dark brown irises threaded with iridescent red matching his tattoos. Black loafers clad his human feet. Dark slacks accented hard thighs, a trim waist looped by a belt, and a flat, gray button-up shirt covered his bulging arms and torso. Short, dark hair cloaked his head.

  Only when she reached his skin did the heartblood-red tattoos give his identity away.

  Tattoos curled across his skeptical forehead like capillaries tapering into vine-curls against his right cheek and down his jaw. The fierce slash of his mouth warned he accepted no lies.

  Uh-oh.

  She could not lie to him.

  He stepped toward her. Dark knowing filled his gaze. “You feel it.”

  Her throat went dry. She licked her lips. “Feel?”

  “Resonance.” His eyes raked her body, fanning coals to smoldering flames. “Our resonance.”

  She couldn’t speak. His charisma filled her senses. A spicy, fruity scent like dark cherries teased her nose. She wanted a taste.

  He took another step. “It is not only me.”

  The words disconnected in her head. She was struck dumb.

  He leaned over her. Powerful and arrogant and so tempting. “Is it?”

  Balim commanded her soul. She was stunned, flushed, hungry.

  “Bella? Bella! Wake up.”

  She blinked rapidly and struggled to regain her composure. Balim was supposed to be boring. She was supposed to charm him. Not fall helpless under his spell.

  Where had Dannika gone?

  Only Starr buzzed in her ear, trying to drag her back from the ledge of an uncontrollable tidal wave of sensation.

  Bella cast for something, anything, to make sense.

  She defaulted to an old media-training question. “What are you looking for in a bride?”

  A smile of pu
re arrogance tilted his lips. “You.”

  Her? Her?

  He lowered his head. His mouth closed on hers. Their lips united.

  Tender, sweet pressure and spicy male unlocked her heart and spilled her soul out. Arousal flooded her veins. Feelings she didn’t even know she still possessed—desire, innocence, vulnerability—flushed through her. Her pussy throbbed, hot and ready. She was his lock. He was her key.

  His powerful hand spanned the back of her neck, commanding her to let go of her resistance and yield to his unstoppable possession.

  Bella melted into Balim’s kiss.

  She mustn’t let herself enjoy his firm lips on hers, his tantalizing breath on her cheek, or the soft brush of his hair against her forehead. The scent of the ocean and his masculine salt mixed with the heady floral spice of the night-blooming jasmine. Innocent and yet so alluring.

  He was just a mark. A way for her to reach her goal. The male she had to trick—

  His lips parted beneath hers, nibbling. Licking, sucking. Teasing.

  Hot need sizzled into her center.

  She parted, allowing him in.

  He surged forward, unstoppable as the tide. Passion crashed over her, fizzing in white tingles. She felt her whole existence in his possession. His tongue thrusting into her mouth, claiming her. His even teeth nibbling on her throbbing, hot, sensitive lips. His mouth owning hers.

  Accept my claim.

  She wanted to.

  She wanted him to push her down. Scoop her breasts free of the emerald velvet, releasing her from the too-tight corset, push her skirt above her thighs, bury his cock deep into her aching center. Forget herself and just exist as woman and man until her responsibilities floated away and she recaptured the easy freedom of her long-ago youth.

  But she had responsibilities. Others were relying on her. She couldn’t run away. That was how her parents had dealt with their problems. Every time she ran away, she hurt worse.

  Jonah.

  She broke off, gasping. Her lips were wet and hungry, and Balim also breathed as though he had run a marathon. She covered her mouth, struggling for control of her quivering body, and pulled out of his arms.