Chapter 20

“Are you just going to sit here all night brooding?” Esmeralda frowned at Alex.

“I’m not brooding,” she replied, taking another shot of really good vodka. “I’m plotting. My brooding face looks like this.” Alex pushed her lower lip way out then slumped back in the fluffy oversized chair she and Esmeralda occupied together.

“Please don’t ever do that again,” Esmeralda laughed before she kissed Alex’s cheek.

Alex grinned as the party of all parties raged on around them. Esmeralda’s Solstice parties were always loud, sexy, and all night long. Only Alex didn’t have all night. She and her team had an early call with Jason.

“Alex,” Esmeralda pulled her face around, “you can’t do anything about it now. Enjoy the fun, please.” She gave Alex her best smile as she stood. Her slender mocha hand hovered at eye level. “Come on. I wanna dance!”

She let Esmeralda pull her to her feet and out into the center of the shiny, happy people of the “invite only” celebration. They mixed in with the bodies on the dance floor and danced to a thumping beat. Under purple lights and fake smoke, Alex tried to put the day’s shit out of her head. She felt Esmeralda’s back against hers then a strong set of muscular arms wrapped around her.

Morgan Warren was a creature of habit. He always wore the same colored tie to every meeting. His cologne was always some exotic mix of essential oils that he refused to tell anyone—not even Esmeralda, and she was his wife. It intoxicated and soothed her and as the music slowed, Alex swayed in time with him.

“As irresistible as ever, I see,” he whispered in her ear.

“Don’t tease me,” she replied. “Your wife’s right over there. She might turn me into a toad or something. I bet you’d be able to resist me then.” He chuckled and the vibration tickled her spine.

“Never.”

The song surrounded them as Morgan guided her side to side. Then he spun her around and dipped her over one strong arm. When she was upright again, he kissed her hand softly then winked at a smiling Esmeralda to their right who squeezed against Sebastian, who blushed bright red.

Morgan’s big, brown bedroom eyes closed when a lone saxophone began to wail. He rotated his hips which caused Alex to do the same. The arm around her waist pulled her even closer and his hand held hers in a warm grip. On her toes, Alex let Morgan lead her away from the crowd and into a darkened corner of the dance floor. As they continued to dance, he looked into her eyes.

“You haven’t given me a proper greeting,” he hummed. “Is that because of him?” He gave a quick nod then angled them so she could see who he was talking about.

Jason, with Nikki on his arm, walked in as if they were just announced husband and wife. Alex leaned closer to Morgan. His full lips displayed a slight grin as she brushed hers over his smooth brown cheek. He chuckled again.

“Sorry,” she sighed.

“That’s more like it,” he smiled at her. “Did you know?”

At first she frowned then shook her head at him. “No. I just thought it was a casual arrangement. I was wrong. So I’m done.”

“Is he?”

She cut her eyes to see him strolling toward them. Morgan kissed her cheek then extended his long arm out to shake Jason’s hand. A guy hug was exchanged as Nikki stepped up to Alex and held her slim left hand up to her.

“It’s beautiful,” Alex stated. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Nikki beamed at the rock on her finger. All the lights bounced off it like it was the sun. The stone was perfect; Alex could see that much. What else would a woman as beautiful as Nikki be given except perfection? “He just surprised me at dinner. It was very romantic.”

Alex just nodded with a glance over Nikki’s shoulder at Esmeralda, whose pink tongue shot out as she pretended to stick her finger down her own throat. The group around her laughed. Alex shook her head and looked away.

“I need a drink,” she stated absently. “Can I get you anything?” A shocked look passed over Nikki’s face.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied.

She stepped between Jason and Morgan, took Jason’s hand and placed a small kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations.” He squeezed her hand and tried to keep her next to him.

Alex excused herself and joined Esmeralda and the rest of her team at the bar.

Nikki swallowed her evilness as Alex walked away. She had expected anger or smugness. Instead, she was . . . nice! Why wasn’t she mad or even jealous? Nikki embraced a smiling Morgan as he congratulated her as well. He smells wonderful, she thought as his scent took her mind away from Alex’s lack of emotion.

“So when’s the big day?” Morgan asked as he held her close. She didn’t mind and neither did Jason from the looks of it. He was stealing glances at Alex and her friends at the bar. Their laughter cut through all the other noise in the nightclub for some reason. At least that’s how it felt to Nikki.

“We haven’t set a date yet,” he replied as he turned back to Morgan, whose arm Nikki still clung to. “These meetings are priority, I’m afraid.”

Morgan gave a nod to him then looked down at Nikki.

“I’m sure you’ve already picked out your gown.”

“Of course I have,” she giggled. “And his tux.”

“Well, all he has to do is show up then,” Morgan hummed. “That’s easy.”

“Let’s hope so,” she said and took a drink from a pretty waitress who then nodded toward the bar. Alex and all the others raised a glass to them. Jason looked ready to run, but Nikki knew he would find a way to get close to Alex tonight and try to explain.

What did it matter? She was now officially about to be his wife. Once that happened, she would have no need to hang onto the “place holders,” as she called them, because Jason would be hers alone.

The power was in the union. With the right mate, anything was possible. Jason had just proven that with the decision to move forward with their wedding plans. Nikki knew that once it was official, she would be that much closer to her own seat at the table. The Lower Chamber was just the beginning for both she and Jason. They were poised to be the first couple to shatter the glass ceiling in the “pure” parade.

No one ever expected her to have aspirations of her own—not even Jason. Although she loved him, she would not allow anyone to relegate her to the station of silent trophy wife. As Jason and Morgan went on and on about some sporting event, Nikki contemplated her own bright future. She straightened her posture and put on a bright smile. If nothing else, she knew not to show anyone the chinks in her armor.

Jason would come back around soon. Now that Alex was out of the picture, he would desire her again. She had admitted defeat just then, hadn’t she? Alex upset the delicate balance Nikki had set for their lives. In that moment, Nikki decided to do whatever she had to in order to get that balance back. If that meant Alex Stone’s destruction, so be it.

 

Alex had to escape the noise for just a few minutes. In the dim corner of the hotel lobby, she found a little bit of peace. Inside the bar, every thought and desire pounded on her skull. To shut them out, she’d have to get as drunk as everyone else was or retreat and regroup. She chose the latter.

Outside the big lobby window, snow had begun to fall. It tumbled down in a weird pattern as she let the movement soothe her and disconnect her from the force of the party a few feet away. One deep breath and the voices disappeared. Another breath and so did the music and smells. One more and the only voice inside her head was her own.

Her team would be no good to her tonight; that was for sure. It didn’t matter. She could go over the videos by herself. Let them enjoy the party.

She lowered her body down into the fluffy chair behind her and closed her eyes. At first, all she could see was the snow, then it faded to black. The lobby was filled with the smell of pine and fresh snow. Someone had just walked in from outside.

Without even looking, she could hear the heavy footfalls as they approached the front desk. In her hiding place, their whispers barely reached her. They may not have been whispering, but as long as she controlled her power, it sounded that way to her.

The desk clerk pecked the keys at the computer roughly. The new guest, male, asked for two rooms with king-size beds and a fireplace. The clerk stated they were the last rooms in the entire hotel and how lucky he was to get them. With the convention, as he called it, and the snow, he may have had to drive to the next town had he not stopped at that very moment. They shared a laugh, then silence.

Before she noticed that nothing had been said in at least a minute, she opened her eyes, and there he was in front of her. He stared down at her with a strange expression on his bearded face. The twinkle in his blue eyes was familiar. His heavy jacket was still dusted with snow. The boots, brown and worn, were slightly damp. Their waterproofing held strong.

“You look tired,” he said as he removed his gloves, stuffed them in his pocket, then scratched at his beard.

“You look like a stranger,” Alex replied as she straightened her posture. “My mama always told me not to talk to strangers.”

He grinned and the hairs on his face twitched.

“And here I thought I was unforgettable.”

When he laughed, Alex’s brain clicked to a picture of the man she knew without the beard and the years that had creased around those blue eyes. She stood. He stepped back into the light.

“Becker?”

“In the flesh!”

K.C. Becker had put on a few pounds of muscle and added a beard to the mix. As she stepped into his arms, the scratchy face-warmer rubbed against her cheek. As he laughed, he rocked them back and forth.

“What the hell?” she laughed in his ear.

He released her and held her at arm’s length as he looked her over. With a shake of his head and a big smile this time, he studied her closely.

“What the hell right back at you,” he said. “You grew up.”

Alex invited him to join her with a nod toward the empty chairs. Once he shrugged off his jacket, they sat down and stared at each other for a few seconds. He kept the black watch cap on his head.

“What are you doing here?” Alex finally broke the silence. “I thought you were dead.”

Becker laughed and scratched at the beard again. “Well, don’t sound so disappointed, Dagger.”

“Sorry,” she sighed. “You look good.”

He nodded as if he didn’t want the compliment. Becker never really was much for compliments as she remembered it. “I’m on assignment—new team.”

“Really? The doctor never said anything about a second team,” Alex stated, suddenly uncomfortable. He smelled different.

“I’m not with Strategic anymore,” he replied. “I got kicked out when I couldn’t tolerate the supplement.”

That’s why he smelled different. He wasn’t on the pills. But from everything she’d been told, without them, their bodies would break down and eventually kill them. Becker looked fine—perfect, in fact.

“Don’t look at me that way,” he said. “Don’t believe everything the old man tells you. I’ve been off the supplement for about three years now. I’m good. I mean, not bench pressing small cars or healing overnight good, but I’m human again.”

She watched him look at his rough hands with a sense of satisfaction and peace. Underneath the sweater she could see muscle definition. Not like before, lean and cut, but regular muscle tone for a man his age. He was human again.

Without thinking, Alex took his wrists in her hands. He let her squeeze his forearms, biceps, triceps, then his shoulders. His heartbeat was normal, his breathing steady. But his scent was very different and that bugged her. When she placed her hands on either side of his hairy cheeks, his eyes closed.

He opened his mind to her for some reason: the time he spent in the hospital with the others after Sandbox, being poked and prodded like meat on a hook, her father taking blood samples from him with a grim expression. Then the image shifted. Becker was as he is now—out of the program, off the pills, and normal. Before she released him, she wiped the name “Dagger” from his brain. He’d feel the effects in just a second.

“How did you do it?” Alex said as she disconnected and his eyes opened again. He squinted and rubbed his temples. “Sorry. I’m still working on doing that without hurting people.”

“That’s okay,” he chuckled as he popped his neck. “You were never that good at it anyway.”

“How did you stop the side effects?” she asked again, but he just sat there with a grin as he stared at her.

“That’s not why I’m here,” he replied then stopped. He looked as if he’d forgotten her name. It worked. “Alex,” he chuckled. “Maybe I didn’t stop all the side effects,” he said with a shake of his head. “Memory screwed up for a second.”

“Then why are you here?” she said.

“Working,” he stated, “just like you. Lucas tracked me down.” His expression went cold and hard. “Any word on who did this?”

“I’m close,” Alex replied and his eyes clouded with pain. “Tristan’s out, with the book. Coop’s—”

“Coop’s what?” Becker growled low. “A backstabbing traitor? Yeah, I know.”

“So you’re working for the Pack?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Have to earn a living somehow. I’m not filthy rich.” He winked at her. “Wait, I thought Coop was dead.”

“Nope. He’s turned and here in Romania.”

“Did he kill Matt?”

She shook her head. “But whoever did, I’ll find them and hand them over to the Pack. I promised Roland. So why send you?”

Becker shrugged. “Just to be safe?”

“They don’t trust me?”

“They don’t trust the bloodsuckers.”

Alex sat forward and so did Becker. “Did you hear what I said about Tristan? He’s out.”

“I know, but he’s not my problem. We’re just here to get Matt’s killer. The rest is on you.”

“We?”

Becker nodded toward the entrance as the door swung open once more. Longish brown hair, worn away from his face and dusted with fresh snow, this man was familiar as soon as he smiled at them. Like Becker, he had an impressive beard. It was speckled with gray, trimmed, and shiny. His easy stride indicated he felt safe. As he moved toward them, he reminded Alex more of a college professor than a priest.

The only jacket he’d ever worn was brown tweed with a patch at each elbow. A heavy, gray wool scarf twisted loosely around his neck. He dropped his bulky bag next to Becker’s at the desk as he approached them. He still had that same grace of movement he had in Mexico.

That day, he seemed timid as he asked if they had to kill his mentor and friend. What Ben tried to explain to Father Tomas was his mentor was already dead. The more he fed on human blood, the further from human he became. Father Tomas didn’t seem to understand at the time, but somehow, now, Alex got the feeling it had finally hit him.

“Alexa,” his voice registered surprise when he spoke her name. He cut a glance at Becker as she shook his hand firmly. A proper pronunciation of her name sounded so much better with an accent. “My, you haven’t changed one bit.”

This was the first time she’d noticed he was Italian. He’d spoken Spanish so flawlessly back then that she’d assumed he was a native.

His slim hand held hers in a tight grip, so unlike the first time they’d met. Now, he was confident and self-assured. She could feel the coldness of his hands creep up her arm as he put her warm hand to his lips. They were cold too.

“Father,” she began but stopped when both men laughed.

“I left the priesthood years ago,” he replied with an elbow to Becker. “It’s just Tomas now.”

Alex felt a strong need to apologize for her mistake. “Sorry.”

He smiled. “Don’t be. After everything I saw in Mexico, with . . .” he paused to shake his head. “Well, I can better serve the cause without the strictures of the church. At least that’s what I tell myself.”

“What cause?” she asked.

Before either could answer, the desk clerk stepped up and announced their rooms were ready. Becker excused himself to gather the bags.

“We can talk more tomorrow if you have time,” Tomas stated. “I will be speaking at the conference in the afternoon session. Perhaps you could join us for lunch?”

Alex took his outstretched hand in a tight grip. “I’d love to.”

“Signorina,” he said in a low tone.

Inside the small elevator, they both nodded at her as the doors closed.