Hard as Rock

by Stephanie West

  “I just want this madness to stop.” She shook her head.

  “I’ll take care of this and you’ll be safe again,” he promised. This was all his fault, but he’d make it right.

  As he pulled her close and bent to kiss her, the door to the roof opened. Meline spun in his arms to face the intruder.

  “It’s okay,” he reassured her when Giles, Evensong’s bartender, came through the door.

  “I thought I heard someone up here,” the human said as he approached.

  Roc didn’t bother to retract his wings. This man was familiar with his kind.

  “Sorry, Giles, I would’ve asked first but it was an emergency.” Roc nodded toward Meline.

  Giles’ brow furrowed as he took in her disheveled appearance, then glanced over the rooftop toward the city. “You haven’t brought trouble to my doorstep, have you?”

  “Your bar’s safe. The bastards who did this weren’t able to recover fast enough from the crash to follow. They’re still across the bay in Connecticut wondering what happened,” he assured the man.

  He was persona non grata at Evensong and Alkor’s club in Canada. For some reason his Khargal brethren didn’t appreciate the cavalier way he lived his life. Some nonsense about drawing too much attention.

  Perhaps they’re right. He frowned as he considered the position he’d put Meline in.

  “Good.” Giles nodded, looking more at ease.

  “I’m Meline. Thanks for letting us stay.” She reached out a hand.

  “Shit!” Giles exclaimed, seeing how bloody her hands were.

  “It’s not my blood,” Meline repeated as she pulled her hand back, then laughed morosely. “That has to be the most disturbing thing I’ve ever said.”

  “I can imagine.” Giles cast a concerned glance at him.

  “So where is that Ray of sunshine?” Roc asked. He’d only met the owner of this bar, a Khargal who went by Ray, a few times. But like all of the purebreds, the male was way too serious for his own good.

  “Ray’s away on business. I can’t say when he’ll return.”

  “Hmm.” Roc nodded. Ray was no doubt on the same mission he was.

  “I’ll get you something to wash up with, some drinks and a jacket,” Giles offered.

  “Thank you.” Meline smiled in appreciation.

  “Yes, thank you. We won’t impose on you long,” he promised as Giles headed back downstairs.

  The instant Giles left, he snared Meline around the waist and pulled her against his chest. They’d been interrupted before he had the chance to express just how relieved he was to see she was safe. His mouth ached with the need to kiss her sweet pink lips. Roc answered the imperative that had been gnawing at him, planting his mouth against hers. Meline stiffened in his arms. When he pulled back, he found her frowning.

  "Ain’t it a bitch when you want something you’ll never let yourself have?” She pulled away from him.

  “Meline, I’m…”

  “No!” Meline held up her hand as she scowled at him. “I’m really glad you’re safe and thank you for coming to my rescue but…” She shook her head in frustration as her face twisted into a sad frown. “I can’t just forget the way you pushed me away.”

  “I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “I thought I could take care of them and you’d be safe.”

  “That’s just an excuse! You’ve been making a lifetime of excuses for holding people at arm’s length. What’s it going to be next time? I really thought we had something, Roc.” Tears welled up in Meline’s eyes and her shoulders sagged.

  His heart broke watching Meline sit against the roof wall. He could literally see her pulling inside herself and away from him as she tugged her knees up against her chest.

  Well, you got what you wanted. You drove her away. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms.

  meline

  She couldn’t believe Roc wanted to act like nothing happened. Granted she was so relieved to see him safe that she almost melted in his arms. Then she remembered the way he shut her out. A part of her was angry at him, but mostly she was sad. She wanted him to let her in, except it seemed too many years of hurt had hardened the wall around his heart.

  Meline startled when a creature that made Roc look human landed on the rooftop.

  “It’s my sire,” Roc reassured her. “I see you found the place just fine,” he commented to his father.

  So, this was Petronus. His wings were leathery and the talons at their tips were sharper than Roc’s. This gargoyle had not two, but four horns jutting from his hairline, a large and small pair. She could see the family resemblance, but the bridge of Petronus’ nose was more pronounced. His eyebrows were sharper, perched over stern, deep-set eyes. Petronus’ lips were thin, and it looked like the alien man never smiled a day in his life. Her ancestor had been spot on with his frightening description.

  She was surprised to see Roc’s elusive father. A part of her was happy for Roc that he wasn’t dead, but she also worried. This was the man who made Roc feel unwanted and undeserving of love.

  “I see you rescued your female. I told you the Earthian would be fine. They are not interested in her.” Petronus barely gave her a glance as he talked about her like she was a possession.

  Nice. No wonder Roc was the way he was.

  “No. She got hurt and wouldn’t have been fine. They already tried to kill her once. But you wouldn’t listen and took off after that fucking sigil when I needed your help,” Roc growled.

  “And if I had your help, I might have been successful retrieving the sigil. You know the risk it poses,” Petronus snarled back.

  “What did you do?”

  “Earthians are far more advanced than last I remember.” Petronus cast her an accusatory glance, like she was the reason he returned empty-handed.

  “Unbelievable! You set off the alarms, didn’t you?” Roc ran a frustrated hand through his wavy black hair.

  “I did not expect them to use invisible light beams to trigger their alarms, when the outside doors were secured with primitive tumblers and gears.”

  “Well if you were already in the museum, why didn’t you just get the sigil?”

  “Armed Earthians swarmed the vault before I got close,” Petronus snapped.

  “You couldn’t just follow my lead. Gracking Macero!”

  “Watch your mouth, Rochelle!” Petronus’ tail lashed angrily.

  Rochelle? Wow, okay. For such a masculine guy, she never expected him to have a name like that. No wonder he shortened it.

  “No, sire, you screwed up. The people after us know the sigil’s in New York City. They’re going to see the botched robbery and will know it’s not just a coincidence. Dammit!” Roc paced the rooftop.

  “So, we go back tonight, when it gets dark again. And you can show me what you have learned since I saw you last.” Petronus looked almost excited. It was the first time he showed true interest in Roc since landing.

  “And those bastards will be expecting that,” Roc huffed.

  “What if we went now?” she asked, a plan forming in her mind.

  “The authorities will be swarming the place. There’s no way we’d get past them, much less into the vault.” Roc shook his head.

  “Not if we’re invited in. I…” she reasoned.

  “So, we create a chaotic situation to distract the soldiers,” Petronus spoke over her.

  Rude. She scowled.

  “The building has numerous windows. I will rapidly break them and create a diversion for you to get past the armed Earthians,” Petronus continued.

  “What happened to those rules of yours about not harming innocents and drawing attention?” Roc countered, his brow furrowed in frustration. “That stunt could hurt a lot of people and as fast as you can dive bomb a window, it could still be caught on camera.”

  Meline nodded in agreement with Roc. There’d been enough blood shed.

  “This is a desperate situation,” Petronus growled.

  “Then wh
y didn’t you just barrel through the guards to begin with?” Roc snapped sarcastically.

  She was done listening to them argue. Meline got up, equally pissed at the posturing men, and headed for the door leading down to the bar.

  “Where are you going?” Roc asked.

  She whirled angrily to face him. “I’m returning to my house, because we’re going with my plan!”

  “Your plan?!” Petronus scoffed.

  “Yes,” she growled at the difficult gargoyle. “I’ve been dragged along on this adventure without any say in what happens.” Meline pointed an accusing finger at Roc. “You sent me home even though I begged you not to, and we see where that got us.” She turned on Petronus. “And you ditched your son then botched your attempt to break into the museum. Maybe if you helped Roc, we wouldn’t have to worry about the assholes hunting us. So, we’re going with my plan!”

  “Okay, okay. I’m listening. What’s your plan?” Roc held up his hands.

  “One of you is going to my house to get a few things and find us a vehicle. Then I’m going to walk right through the front door of the museum.”

  “Angel, I’ve broken into a ton of places. You’re going to need to do a little more than walk through the front door,” he cajoled.

  Roc was well meaning but she was so frustrated it felt patronizing.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” She smirked at him. Roc might have a massive bank account and superhero strength, but he wasn’t the only one who had the means to get into the museum.

  16

  Meline

  Meline glanced nervously at the entrance of the Queens Museum as she crossed the cobblestone courtyard. The sprawling building wasn’t quite like she remembered. The edifice had been remodeled with panoramic glass windows that stretched two-stories high all along the front. She felt totally exposed. Anyone watching for her, inside or out, would see her coming from a mile away.

  Maybe I should’ve thought more about this.

  She suspected everyone who made eye contact of being the enemy and quickly hustled to join the back of a large group entering the museum. Roc was somewhere nearby, in a van, waiting for her call, and Petronus was lurking on the roof, but a lot could happen before either could reach her.

  No. This will work. She pushed through the glass doors and headed to the customer service desk.

  “I’m here to speak with your curator.”

  “We had a break-in last night, so I imagine Kendra is rather busy,” the receptionist replied.

  “I heard. I have a piece here on permanent loan and would like to see it.”

  “Oh. Your name?”

  She hesitated to give her name, fearing Nightshade had connections in the museum, but her name was her ticket in.

  Here goes nothing.

  “Meline Lauber.”

  “All right, just a moment.” The woman picked up the phone and made a call.

  Meline stuck her nose in one of the pamphlets, resisting the urge to look around. She had a feeling Nightshade’s minions were scoping out the museum. It was best if they didn’t recognize her or this venture would go swiftly down the tube.

  There’s not enough deodorant in the universe for this three-ring circus. She surreptitiously sniffed herself and was grateful to find she didn’t smell like a two-day old gym sock. You wanted adventure. What do they say; beware of what you wish for?

  “Miss Lauber. Kendra Hammond.” A smartly-dressed woman with glasses stuck out her hand and Meline shook it.

  “Nice to meet you. Do you have someplace we can speak?”

  “I apologize, it’s been a very eventful morning.” The curator frowned.

  “I gather and have concerns about a piece my family loaned the museum.”

  “Of course. Right this way.” Kendra held out her hand and Meline followed her lead. “So, it begins,” the woman mumbled under her breath.

  Meline had a feeling she wasn’t supposed to hear that last part but did. She imagined a lot of donors were going to be calling with concerns after seeing the news of the break-in. This was probably the curator’s worst nightmare.

  She has no clue. I could show you nightmares.

  “I had a chance to look up the piece your family placed on loan with us. The stained-glass butterfly your grandfather created is a stunning example of his work while at the Tiffany Studio.”

  “Thank you.” Meline eagerly looked toward the secure entrance they were approaching.

  “The piece is currently in our vault. I guarantee it’s perfectly safe,” Kendra added.

  “Still, I’d like to see it.”

  Kendra stopped just shy of the doors. Oh, come on. Meline wanted to groan.

  “That may be a difficult request given all that’s gone on.” The curator hesitated, placing her access badge to the sensor.

  Believe me, lady, you don’t want that butterfly. It’s nothing but trouble. But she couldn’t say that.

  roc

  The place was crawling with police and rent-a-cops. Nightshade undoubtedly infiltrated that group since they’d be able to get access anywhere. But the guests going in and out of the museum made him just as edgy. They looked benign but looks could be deceiving.

  “What’s taking so long?” Roc punched the steering wheel of the van. He should have heard from Meline by now.

  He couldn’t believe he agreed to let her go in alone without first making her explain the whole plan, but she’d insisted. The way her eyes flashed angrily as she squared off against them on the roof had him worried. Meline was a delicate, sweet creature, but in that moment, he was just a little bit afraid of what she might do. He’d actually looked around to make sure no sharp objects were within her reach. He’d already fucked up big time. Not going along with her plan would’ve added another nail to his coffin.

  A flash on the museum roof caught his attention. Roc rolled his eyes as he signaled back. Petronus was getting impatient. The last thing he needed was his sire doing something rash. The burner cell pinged and Roc glanced at it.

  “Thank Lar,” he sighed, started up the van and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Roc found his way to the access road behind the museum. He turned the corner and slammed on the brakes narrowly missing the cop car. Roc tugged his baseball cap low as he rolled down the window.

  “This is a private drive. No admittance.” The officer looked at him suspiciously.

  “Sorry about that. I’ve got a delivery.” He gestured to the crate in the back.

  He didn’t have a clue what was in the box, but Meline insisted he fetch it from her condo, along with a change of clothes. The mood she was in, he wasn’t about to argue.

  “The loading dock’s at the end. Watch out. There’s a lot of us around today.”

  “Yes, sir.” He nodded to the officer.

  Roc pulled forward and maneuvered down the ramp. He was relieved when the metal garage door lumbered up to reveal Meline standing on the dock. She looked good in the long-sleeve sweater dress. He could barely tell she’d been in an accident only hours ago. She stood up straight, shoulders back, confident and proud. Meline was handling this better than he was, which was utterly pathetic since he’d been in situations like this a million times.

  But you’ve never had a female to worry about. His nerves were worse than they’d been on his first job.

  Roc shoved down his anxiety and smiled at her then noticed the guard wearing a gun on his hip. His tail flicked in agitation, hidden in the baggy cargo pants he wore. Roc forced it to behave as he got out of the van and pulled the box from the back.

  “Hello. I’m Kendra, chief curator. Do you need assistance?” The woman in glasses standing beside Meline introduced herself.

  “I’m good. It’s not that heavy. Nice to meet you.” He nodded in greeting.

  “Right this way.” The woman gestured.

  He carried the box through the hallways, growing more eager and restless with each secure door they went through, till finally they
were in the heart of museum storage. His fingers itched, seeing the countless works of art hanging on dozens of rolling racks.

  “Please, place the box here.” The curator gestured to the examination table covered with padding. “Let’s see what you brought.” The woman looked excited.

  Roc sympathized. He was curious, too. Meline couldn’t unseal the box fast enough. The scent of old canvas instantly struck him as she lifted the lid. His eyes widened seeing the landscape she revealed. It was a gorgeous port scene. He looked at the signature and saw Meline’s family name.

  Of course. Her grandfather was an artist.

  “This is exceptional,” the curator beamed.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Meline smiled at the woman.

  “I just have some paperwork for you to sign to make the donation official.”

  So that’s how Meline managed to get us in. Roc shook his head. He couldn’t believe she was giving up her grandfather’s painting for him.

  But getting into the museum was just half the problem. They still needed to retrieve the sigil and get out without raising suspicion.

  The curator stepped away to grab the documents and he edged toward one of the aisles. Meline said the sigil had been crafted into a stained-glass butterfly, but he didn’t see any stained-glass pieces in these first few rows.

  “Roc,” Meline hissed, giving him the evil eye when he started to wander off.

  “What?” he mouthed. They were so close. They’d made it into the vault. If he could just get a look around.

  “Would you like a tour once we’re done here?” Kendra asked as she set the file in front of Meline.

  “No. We sadly don’t have time,” Meline replied.

  What? His eyes widened as he glared at her. This was the perfect excuse. Yes, they had time. The private plane ready to whisk them out of Dodge would wait for as long as this took.

  She shook her head tersely and signed the documents.

  “All right.” Meline nodded and headed for the vault exit.