“You’d better get over your stupid lawyer confidentiality shit and start talking to me. What do you mean my family is out to get me?” I slapped the table. “I don’t have any. My mother is dead.”
We sat in the back booth of an all-night diner. I was seething. Damon had refused to tell me anything else after he dropped his little nuclear bomb, except that I needed to speak with his client. It irritated the fuck out of me that he’d hooked me enough that I couldn’t refuse.
I’d let him drive me here, only now I wanted to bolt, but not before I told the fucker just what I thought of him. But the words stuck to the roof of my mouth. Not because I was trying to be tactful or even because we were in a public place. What held me back was the knowledge that if I told him how pissed I was, I might also let on how much he’d hurt me and how scared I was. My mother was Satan’s worst nightmare, and now it seemed I had more psychotic family members. Maybe one had killed my mother and now had me in his sights. Or hers.
I could have handled the fear okay, but the fact that Damon ShitForBrains knew things about me and had kept silent while kissing me and pretending he was into me made me sick. I was disgusted at my gullibility.
How could I have believed he actually might be into me? He was playing some twisted game, just like all my mother’s games. I shouldn’t have trusted him; I should have pushed harder to get answers. Instead I’d let him charm me into being stupid. The worst part was that my humiliation wasn’t the worst of my pain. The worst was feeling like my heart had been skewered.
The man responsible shook his head. He looked regretful. I didn’t believe it. “I’ve already said too much.”
“You think so? Because I think you’ve got your lips sewn shut tighter than your ass, and I’m sick of you playing me. This is my life, and I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on, I will wire your balls for sound and zap you into next week.”
“I can’t,” he said. He reached across the table to take my hand. I snatched it away.
“Do not touch me!”
He winced and looked past me. “I can’t tell you but he can. If he doesn’t, then I will. I promise.”
I sneered. “Your promise is worthless.”
His lips twisted as he flinched. “All the same, I mean it.” He stood and strode to the door of the diner.
There, Damon met a tall, lanky man. He wore a tailored suit that probably cost thousands of dollars and was hand sewn by naked women in Xanadu. His brown hair was slightly long and combed straight back from his face in a helmet sort of look. It fit him. Even the receding hairline with the widow’s peak. His skin was pale, and he had a casually grim look as if he rarely smiled because the world was going to hell in a handbasket at any second and he didn’t want to look too enthusiastic when it did.
He nodded to Damon but didn’t shake his hand. Neither did Damon offer. Both turned to look at me. I just glared back, fighting the urge to flip them off. I was in no mood for any more games or lies. Deliberately I broke eye contact, turning my back and sipping my coffee. Footsteps approached and then they stood at the end of the booth. I looked up.
“Rebecca Wyatt, this is Mason Wyler Symms. Mason, this is Rebecca.”
“Beck,” I corrected. I leaned back and folded my arms. “You want to tell me why you sent this asshat to kidnap me? And who the hell destroyed my shop and home?”
Mason Wyler Symms’s eyes were disks of tarnished silver. He examined me slowly, his gaze moving from my head down to where the table hid me from sight and back up. “You look like Elena,” he said finally. His voice was light and warm. A contrast to the Mister Chill thing his face had going on.
“Who’s Elena?”
“Your mother.”
“My mother’s name was Anne.”
“That was your aunt, and her real name was Adriane. Adriane Wyler Symms.”
I looked at Damon. “What kind of bullshit is this?”
“I’m afraid it’s the truth, Rebecca,” Mason said as he slid into the seat opposite me. He glanced at Damon and gave a little gesture with his head to tell him to go away. That Damon retreated to the opposite side of the diner without question or a glance at me said something, but I wasn’t entirely sure what. Definitely that he jumped when Mason told him to.
“If you want me to believe you, then you’d better have solid proof,” I said to the dour man opposite me. “Because right now I’m thinking you need to take an ambulance ride to the rubber room, STAT.” I was tempted to get up and walk out. The whole conversation was ludicrous. Curiosity kept me there. That and the desire to find out who was behind the destruction of my shop.
He gave me a dry smile and reached into the breast pocket of his coat. He pulled out a small manila envelope. Opening it, he tipped its contents onto the table. A number of pictures fell out. He turned them over and faced them toward me.
He tapped one. “This is the woman you thought was your mother, yes?”
It was. She was young, maybe twenty, but her eyes held that unmistakable intensity that made most people cringe and do whatever she wanted. We looked a fair bit alike, though her hair was red-brown and her face rounder. Her features were delicate.
“That’s her.”
“This is your actual mother.” He tapped another picture. This woman was older, probably nearing fifty. She was slender and petite, with blonde hair and a solemn air. Her eyes looked cold, colder than my mother’s.”
Mason looked at me, waiting for a response. I said nothing. I didn’t see any point. The whole thing was too stupid to bother thinking about.
“Your mother has six siblings. Four who lived with the family, two who resided with their fathers.” He pushed another picture toward me. The image was of a large group of people, probably taken at some sort of holiday. They were all dressed in elegant clothing. Everybody stood proud and stiff and none of them looked remotely happy. There wasn’t a single smile on anybody’s face.
In the back middle was an old couple with white hair. Beside them were four women and two men. They were younger, probably the couple’s children. Then there was a bunch of younger adults, ranging from twenty on up to fifty, from what I could tell.
One was Mason. Another was the woman he called Elena. My mother—the one who’d spent her life torturing me—wasn’t there. Maybe she’d been occupied plucking the wings off butterflies. Clustered in front were a bunch of children. I was willing to agree that I could see a resemblance to me in some of the people, but that’s as far as I was willing to go.
“This is the entire living Wyler clan, as of twenty-five years ago, except, of course, you and your Aunt Adriane.”
“Stop calling her that.”
His brows rose and his broad forehead wrinkled. His gaze on mine wasn’t particularly sympathetic. More like ... careful. “She was your aunt. My sister, in fact. Two years my elder. She took you within an hour of your birth and vanished. We could find no trace of her until I received this letter.” He drew out another envelope, this one of heavy linen paper. He opened it and tipped it. A key fell out—an old-fashioned skeleton key. He drew out a paper and unfolded it then pushed it over to me.
I hesitated then dropped my gaze. I recognized my mother’s elegant handwriting. The lines shimmered with a silver glow. Magic. I narrowed my eyes to help focus.
My dearest Mason:
We have been apart far too long and I will always regret that my obligation to our family’s blood and honor required me to live apart and isolated from you. I swore on my soul never to allow Osterraven to claim his ill-begotten spawn, nor will I let his progeny scum ever know who or what she comes from. If Elena could have survived, I would have strangled the child in her cradle. She is an abomination and an eternal stain on our proud line. If you have received this letter, then I have gone from this plane. My death means that you must pick up the mantle of duty and carry it. I leave everything of mine to you, my dearest brother. I know that you alone will have the strength and determination to do what must be done. The key will give you passage to the heart of my home.
Your dearest sister,
Adriane
I read the letter three times. I forced myself not to react to any of it, pushing my wildly erupting emotions down. Though I might get a T-shirt with You’re looking at an Eternal Stain printed on it. I was not going to let this man—my uncle, if this letter was true—see how shaken I was.
Looking up, I shoved the letter back toward him. “All right. Supposing this is true, what do you want from me?”
“I’ve come to retrieve you and take you home.”
“One,” I held up a finger—not the middle one, for the record—“I am home. And two, I’m your family’s eternal stain, so I can’t imagine why you’d be interested in putting out a welcome sign for me.”
“Not my family. Our family.”
“Your sister sure didn’t think so, which is okay by me because I hated being her daughter.”
“Niece,” he corrected. “Your mother would like to meet you.”
“Tell her to get on a plane.”
He frowned. “Youth defers to age in our family.”
“Yeah? I guess I didn’t get the memo.”
“You are remarkably incurious about your history and how you came to be here,” he said.
I leaned my elbows on the table. “In the last week, I have been accused of murdering my mother; got nearly kidnapped by a man hired by you; crawled through dog shit to save a dog; came close to dying of a curse; got turned into hamburger by the river; and now my home, my shop, and just about everything I own has been destroyed. The latter of which your buddy Damon seems to think was caused by my family. You can imagine how endearing I find that.
“So no, except for wanting to kill the assholes who attacked my home, I’m not interested in knowing about anybody related to the bitch who spent my entire life making me suffer in every way she could possibly think of. I especially don’t want to rub elbows with the people who actually liked her. If you want to give me a list of who ripped my place apart, I’d appreciate that.”
The truth was that I wanted to ask a couple thousand questions, but that would give him power over me and I wouldn’t willingly do that. Been there, done that with Aunty Mommy or whatever the hell the bitch who raised me was.
Mason tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the letter then looked steadily at me. “I would like you to give me the opportunity to know you.”
“I don’t trust you. You sent your boy over there to kidnap me and then invade my life.” I pointed to Damon. “If I cooperate with you, I might just end up someplace I don’t want to be.”
“I will give you my word that I will be nothing but a gentleman and will not make any moves against you.”
There was a formality to the way he spoke that made me actually think I could trust his word. Or maybe just that if I doubted his word, he’d go rage-monkey on me.
“And if I say yes, just what would this getting-to-know-you business entail?”
“Meals. Outings perhaps. Do you play chess?”
“I play poker. And shoot pool.”
“Not in my repertoire, I’m afraid. I could learn, however.”
The guy reminded me of one of those velvet smoking jacket–clad men on PBS who sipped tea and read Shakespeare for fun. How could I possibly be related to him? He screamed elitism, privilege, and wealth. The very definition of upper crust.
I could move in that world, but I didn’t like it. Whenever I swam in that pond, I wanted to come home and shower and scrub down with steel wool. That world was slimy, plastic, and fake. Everything was for show, and nothing mattered but what other people thought.
Mason must have read my doubts. He leaned forward. “You have been raised very differently from how you would have been had Adriane not taken you, but we are blood, and I’m not so old that I cannot learn new tricks.”
I cracked a smile for the first time. “Was that a joke?”
He gave a faint shrug. “My sense of humor is dusty, perhaps, but not entirely dead.”
“What do you really want from me?”
“You are a very direct young woman,” he said, not answering. “You have very little artifice about you. It is refreshing.”
“What you did there just now is called ‘deflecting.’ Or maybe you are an indirect man with a whole lot of artifice going on.”
He actually chuckled then glanced at my coffee cup. “Is that swill any good?”
“Best you can get this time of the night or morning, whatever you want to call it. Beggars can’t be choosers. Food’s not bad either if you like grease and salt, which I’ve been known to indulge in from time to time.”
“I think I’d like to fortify myself for the rest of this conversation,” he said and gestured to the waiter, who had inexplicably ignored us up to that point.
Mason ordered French toast and bacon at my suggestion. I ordered the same, plus a pot of coffee. As soon as the waiter went off to the kitchen to put in our order, my new uncle began, and not with anything I expected, though I had no idea what exactly I thought he’d say.
“Your bloodline is coveted. You are a mixing of Osterraven and Wyler Symms genetics, which makes you very desirable for breeding.”
“Say what? Breeding? What the fuck?”
“Our people are sorcerers. There are elite families with strong, pure powers, and then muddier lines whose powers have been diluted by mismanaged bloodlines. The Osterraven and Wyler Symms families both have strong magic genetics. They have chosen mates and created children to increase the strength of the line’s magic. Families will contract for a pair to mate. Often there are twins and occasionally triplets produced. The releasing of eggs and fertilizing success are controlled by magic.
“Your sire, Ethan Osterraven, contracted with your mother and my sister, Elena, to produce two children. He wished to claim both children for his family, and the contract was therefore complex and quite valuable to both of sides. However, it seemed he sought to cheat us. Ethan is quite powerful and wields his power with great subtlety. During their lovemaking and without Elena’s knowledge, he forced a third egg to be released and fertilized it. Because he held the pregnancy in such value, he lived with her through the entire ten months, which allowed him to successfully hide the extra child.
“But somehow Adriane realized something was amiss. She diverted Ethan away from the home and induced the birth early. Elena was unaware during this time. Carrying three babies is difficult for any woman, but she was somewhat frail and the magic Ethan deployed to hide your existence from her and soothe her fears made her mentally foggy. Add the magic Adriane used to induce labor, and Elena was out of her mind. She remembers very little of that day.
“Adriane was furious at Ethan’s perfidy and treachery. The contract was written in such a way that he could claim all three children. Adriane refused to let that happen. She took you and vanished, and we never saw or heard from her again while she lived. She left a note telling us what Ethan had done, but of course, there was no way to prosecute him.”
I took a few moments to digest that incredible story. I had a lot of questions, but one popped out ahead of the others. “Did anybody look for me and Aunty Mommy?”
Mason shook his head. “We were bitterly angry, and Elena was gravely ill for months and unable to have more children. If we retrieved you both, Ethan could claim you, and none of us were willing to reward his despicable, vile conniving and the harm he’d done to your mother.”
All of this was incredibly bizarre, yet made sense in a weird way. If what he said wasn’t a fairytale to fool me. “What did you think Adriane would do with me? Did you know she’d make me her personal voodoo doll? Torture me six ways from Sunday?”
Points to Mason for not looking away or soft-selling his reply. “We knew it was likely. You represented everything she’d had to give up as well as Ethan’s trickery. Adriane was never one to forgive. She could hold a grudge into eternity, and she could be cruel.”
“And that didn’t bother you? To know your sister was going to be putting your niece through a living hell?”
“As I said, we were angry and in her action, we found justice.” His thin lips pulled back in a grimace. “I am not proud of my behavior. I should have found you and protected you. I have often regretted that I didn’t.”
“Not so much that you came looking, though.”
“A few years ago, I began a search and quickly aborted it.”
“Why?”
“The circumstances were less than auspicious.”
I rolled my eyes. “And here we go back to vague answers that tell me nothing. I thought you were going to actually give me some information.”
“You aren’t very patient, are you?”
“Not one of my virtues, no,” I said.
A smile flickered across his mouth. “I began my search in a time of turmoil between some of the ruling families. I quickly realized that finding you could put you in grave danger. As I said, your heritage—your blood—makes you very desirable and also makes you dangerous. There are those who seek to claim you and, if they cannot, to kill you. The fact that you are unprotected makes you easy prey, as you discovered tonight.”
“Who did it? Who came after me? Who destroyed my home?” Anger overrode my growing fear. Not for me so much as for Lorraine, Jen, and Stacey, for my employees, all of whom wouldn’t stand a chance against a magic attack. What if the same magic that had ripped apart the furniture and walls had been turned on human bodies?
The very thought of it made me sick and turned my fury up to high.
“I don’t yet know. I have called in my people to help investigate and protect you.”
“Why does Damon think my own family did this?”
“Because you are not technically a member of the Wyler Symms family. You are Osterraven and it’s quite possible some of them perceive you as a threat.”
“Me? A threat to them? I suppose your side feels the same way. I guess I won the criminally insane relatives lottery.” I shook my head. “Whatever. I don’t care. Family isn’t about blood, anyhow. My family is made up of the people I love and would die for. They’d die for me. The woman who was actually blood tried to kill me, and now it looks like more of my blood relatives are trying to do the same. Far as I’m concerned, you’re all just an accident of genetics and I don’t want anything to do with you.”
The last bit wasn’t true. Not really. But right now, I wanted to drive them all off with a pitchfork until I could figure out who wasn’t out to get me. If any of them fell into that category.
He frowned and bent forward. “We aren’t monsters—not many of us, at any rate. I can help you repair what’s been broken. You won’t lose a thing. I promise.”
He meant using magic. I shook my head. “Not a chance. The police are involved, and there’s been news coverage. People will wonder if it’s all turned back right like that.” I snapped my fingers. “I’ll fix things the good old-fashioned way. Insurance will cover the losses.”
“The perpetrators will be back,” he warned reluctantly. “You’ll want to establish magical security. And once the news is out, others will come. Many will want to meet you. Not just family.”
I liked that he didn’t try to talk me out of it. I might be a pawn in this game, but he at least pretended he was going to respect my decisions.
“The news is out,” I said. “How do they even know who or what I am or where to find me?” I asked. “Until you got that note from Aunty Mommy, you didn’t even know.”
“That is a question I’m going to get to the bottom of as well,” he said, and the sharp edge of his voice said that he would make whoever had betrayed him pay and pay well.
Right about then is when our food was delivered. I dug in. If my mouth was full, I could think, and right now, I was so overloaded that I wasn’t sure which way was up.
Mason ate slowly, cutting everything up in small squares with precise strokes. Even the bacon.
“I would like to see what the key unlocks,” he said. “Will you take me to your mother’s estate?”
“Get in line.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m taking the cops on a tour in a couple hours. You could come, I suppose. They wanted to know who her heir was and that’s you.”
Mason gave me an inscrutable look. He was good at those. “I have no intention of taking any portion of my sister’s belongings. I plan to turn all of it over to you.”
“No thanks.”
His brows rose. “She left behind a large fortune. You are entitled to it all.”
“I don’t want anything. Light it all on fire if you want.”
His lips curved into a faint smile. “It is owed to you, at the very least, for the hurt she caused you. Understand that you will need that money to establish yourself in our society. Wealth, after all, is power in its way.”
“Who said I’m interested in your society? Speaking of that, exactly where are you from? Because you said ‘ruling families.’ Do you have your own country somewhere?”
“Our country—our world—overlays the ordinary world. The ruling families have domain over the magic world, maintaining laws and justice and keeping renegades from unleashing magic on mundanes. I have homes in various countries. I spend much of my time in Milan, London, and New York. Have you ever been?”
“Never been out of California.”
“No, I suppose Adriane wouldn’t want to risk anybody accidentally discovering you.”
“She couldn’t kill me without trouble for Elena. Why is that?”
“Birth contracts are usually made with magical guarantees. To ensure the safety of the children and the parents, harm to one will result in equal harm to the other. The length of time that those constraints hold are agreed upon in the contract. In this case, the terms were a bit unusual. That death of any of the children would result in the agonizing death of both parents. Ethan dictated those terms, no doubt planning his deception and wishing to protect the third child, which made sense, given the tensions between factions of the families and the hard feelings that would rise when his treachery was discovered. The particular contract clause was set to expire on your twenty-seventh birthday.”
That was only seven months away.
“I wasn’t going to survive to my twenty-eighth, was I? Not if my—” I caught myself before I called that sadistic bitch my mother again. “Not if Aunty Mommy had anything to do with it.”
“Given what you’ve told me about your treatment, it’s unlikely,” Mason agreed.
“You have captured Damon’s undivided attention,” he noted suddenly. “He hasn’t glanced away from you since I arrived.”
Mr. Prettypants sat across the diner with a cup of coffee in front of him, watching me with undiluted intensity.
“He’s a prick.”
Mason’s brows lifted as he studied me. “I’ve always found him to be a gentleman.”
“Obviously he’s got you fooled.” Just like me. Or rather, I had closed my eyes to the signs. Such as trying to kidnap me.
“Surely he hasn’t hurt you.” Mason’s eyes hardened and all of a sudden, a prickle of unease ran down my neck. In that moment, he bore too strong a resemblance to Aunty Mommy for comfort.
“He lied to me.” His kisses were lies. Which had hurt me, but I wasn’t going to admit that to anybody. “Anyway, he’s staring because—” I broke off, a revolting thought occurring to me.
“You don’t think he’s got some bizarre idea about contracting a kid with me, do you? Because a) that contract business of yours is beyond disgusting, and b) if I ever have kids, which I highly doubt I will, I’m going to have them with someone who gets me all hot and bothered and isn’t in it for the genetics.” How’s that for under the heading things I never thought I’d hear myself say?
Mason smiled. “I realize I’m not the proper demographic, but I always thought Damon attractive. You don’t find him so?”
I flushed. “Oh, please. He’s sex on a stick. He’s also a snake in the grass, and now that I have a little better idea what’s going on, I trust him less than before. For all I know, he’s thinking about how sexy my DNA is and how he’d like to contract the hell out of me.”
“I think you may be judging him unfairly. For what it’s worth, I chose him to represent me with you because he’s loyal, honest, and trustworthy.”
“I got a different impression when he tried to kidnap me. Why send him anyway? Why not just contact me yourself?”
“To protect you. I didn’t want to lead trouble to your door, though it appears that it came anyhow.”
“Not your fault. The cops think whoever destroyed my place might have murdered Mommy Dearest, and if that’s the case, they were here before you found out I was here too.”
Mason considered that a moment. “I suppose it’s possible, though unlikely. Adriane has been a ghost since she left. Her killer likely has nothing to do with whoever is coming after you. Rest assured, however, that I will find the culprit ... and whoever killed my sister.” His smile gave me a cold shiver. “I would like to punish their temerity myself.”
I had a feeling the perps would enjoy Mason’s punishment a whole lot less than what they’d get from the good ol’ American justice system. Given what they’d done to my place, I was in no mood to sympathize.
“I wouldn’t mind getting a shot at them myself.”
“Now then, the question is where will you stay while your home and shop are repaired?”
“I’ll get a hotel that takes pets for a couple nights or so until my loft can be made livable, and then I’ll go home.”
My new uncle frowned. “Do you think that’s wise? Besides, I understand the damage is extensive.”
“I’ll beef up security.” I’d slap up a dozen magic walls, plus whatever else I could think of. “As for the damage, I just need a working bathroom, a coffee maker, a fridge, and a stove, and even the last two aren’t all that necessary. I’ll throw a mattress on the floor, and I’ll be fine.”
His eyes widened. “Certainly not. It sounds dreadful.”
I had to laugh at his horror. “Maybe, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. A little discomfort won’t kill me.”
He shook his head. “No. You will be too vulnerable. You can’t be allowed to live that way.”
That brought me up short. Anger crackled through me. “Excuse me? I can’t be allowed?”
“It is much too dangerous. You have no idea who you’re up against or what they are capable of. If I know my sister, you aren’t even trained.”
He spoke like the decision was made and I would cave to his orders. I had news for him.
My lip curled. “I know enough. Anyhow, it’s my choice, not yours.”
He scowled. “Please be reasonable, Rebecca—”
“My name’s Beck,” I snapped. I stood up and dug in my purse, tossing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. Without another word, I wheeled and marched away, ignoring his attempts to summon me back. I thrust through the door and stopped. Ajax sat in the driver’s seat of Damon’s truck, his nose poked out the three-inch crack we’d left at the top.
I was tired and pissed and beyond out of patience. I strode to the locked truck and thrust a strand of magic in the door. It popped open and Ajax nosed my ear.
“Let’s go,” I said, patting my leg. He jumped down.
“Where are you going?”
Damon stood behind me. He looked tense and worried. I don’t know what the hell he had to be worried about. Fucked-up assholes hadn’t torn apart his home and business. Fucked-up relatives hadn’t crawled out of the woodwork thinking they could run his life for him.
The glass door of the diner pushed open, and Mason stepped out.
“That’s none of your damned business. Either one of you.”
Damon took a step toward me, the tendons in his neck tightening, his arms knotting with tension. “You’re wrong.”
“Then I’m wrong but that’s my problem, isn’t it? I don’t need anybody telling me how or where to live. I’ve had enough of that bullshit to last me twelve lifetimes, and I’m not putting up with that kind of crap again. Understand?”
I whirled and strode off out of the parking lot, Ajax trotting at my knee. I turned and headed toward downtown. It was stupid. I had nowhere to go. No clothing stores were open at this hour, and I needed to get home anyway to meet with the detectives in a few hours. It was at least a five-mile walk. Actually, that was good. I needed the exercise to work off my anger.
I swung into a ground-eating pace, my brain tumbling with all that had happened. I wasn’t particularly surprised when Damon’s truck pulled up beside me a few minutes later.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Luckily his tone was casual and not combative. Lucky for him, anyway. “I think I’m walking. I think I’m breathing. I think I’m using my lips and tongue to form words to answer a really dumbass question.”
I have to admit his laugh went a long way toward filing the sharpest edge off my anger.
“You’ve had a long day and night. You sure you want to walk all the way home? I can take you to my hotel. You can shower and I’ll taxi you back to your place.”
The fact that he didn’t try to bully me into anything made me waver. That and the shower. That sounded like heaven. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to be bribed.
“No point in showering. I don’t have clean clothes to change into and it’s disgusting to put dirty underwear back on after getting clean.”
“I’ll find clothes.”
I snorted. “Where? And don’t say Walmart. I’d rather wait until the shops open.”
“Trust me.” He grinned, eyes gleaming, fully aware I had a problem trusting him and daring me to do it anyway.
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Barely.
“Think of Ajax,” he coaxed. “He’s got to be hungry. And thirsty.”
Guilt assailed me. When had I fed him last? I thought it might have been yesterday morning, almost twenty hours ago. I looked down at him, stricken by my carelessness. He depended on me. He had nobody else.
“Don’t go there,” Damon said quickly. “You haven’t neglected him. He’s fine. He adores you. Plus, I brought him a snack.” He held up a to-go box from the diner. “You can give it to him now or climb in and feed him on the way.”
I was too tired to argue, and Ajax deserved a place to sleep tonight. What was left of it. We climbed in. I snarled at Damon’s smug grin, taking the box from him and opening it. Inside were mostly cold scrambled eggs and several sausage patties from the diner. Ajax whined and perked his ears, pawing my leg. I held the box so he could reach it, and he bolted the food as if starving. Even though the reasonable side of me knew that he always ate his food that way, the sappy, guilty side of me recoiled at his obvious hunger and my failure to properly care for him.
Damon pulled up to the valet stand in front of a very fancy, very expensive, and very exclusive boutique hotel. He got out and came around to my side. I’d opened the door, and he offered his hand to help me balance. I took it but when I went to let go, his fingers tightened on mine, holding me fast. His eyes dared me to make a scene. I was tempted but I was also tired, so I didn’t fight.
“C’mon, Ajax,” I called.
Damon gave his keys to the valet and started inside. I thought someone would get in our faces about Ajax, but nobody paid us any attention as we crossed the lobby to the elevator and took it up to the ninth floor. Damon guided me to his suite, waving his key in front of the lock to open it.
Inside, it was just as grand as the lobby. We walked into a sitting room with plush leather furniture and steel, marble-topped tables. It looked very modern yet comfortable and warm. There was a small kitchenette off to the side and a half bath. On the other side was the bedroom.
Damon took me inside. A king-sized bed dominated the room. Ajax jumped up on it and lay down like he owned the place. Good dog.
“Shower’s in there,” Damon said, pointing. “There’s a robe for you to put on when you’re done. Take your time.”
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Six o’clock. “I have to be back at the shop in two hours to meet the detectives.” I bit my lower lip as a tide of anger and loss and hurt crested over me. I was tired and my defenses were down.
I hadn’t felt this low in a long time. This helpless, this wounded. I’d learned to armor myself against my mother’s—Aunty Mommy’s—attacks. I knew where she’d strike, and I was always prepared.
Having Lorraine, Stacey, and Jen in my corner helped, even when I had to protect them. But the attack on my home and business? I’d been blindsided. I’d been floating on a high of success and freedom, and I didn’t even know that this kind of vicious and malicious attack was even a possibility. It struck me hard and deep, and I felt like I was bleeding and didn’t know how to make it stop.
I wanted to blame Damon or Mason, but they hadn’t ripped apart everything I owned. Someone else had and I dearly wanted to make whoever it was pay.
“I’ll get you there; don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
I waited for him to leave. He looked undecided then went to the dresser and drew out a gray short-sleeved shirt and handed it to me. It was soft, almost like silk.
“You can put that on for now if you want more than a robe.” His voice had developed a gruff edge.
“You may not get it back.” I rubbed it against my cheek. “I might never take it off.”
“I can live with that.”
The harshness in his voice made me look up. He was staring at my lips. If he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have noticed they were dry and licked them, but he was and I did. His gaze rose to mine. His eyes burned.
“I should go.”
I nodded. “I should shower.”
Neither one of us moved. Then slowly and ever so gently, he bent and touched his lips to mine. The brush of his tongue was feather light. Gradually he pressed closer. The only place we touched was our mouths, and between us the air heated, wrapping me in aching flames. I tipped my head to give him better access, and his tongue swept against mine, worshipping and then teasing, then demanding.
Little pops of desire burst all over my skin, and I wanted to rub against his hard warmth and let him stroke me and soothe the ache his kiss caused. I refused to think about why he was kissing me. At the moment I didn’t care. I just wanted that connection, that sense of being wanted. I wanted not to feel so alone.
He pulled back. I bit back a sound of complaint, glad to see I wasn’t the only one breathing hard.
“If I don’t go now, you aren’t showering alone.”
It wasn’t a question, but it felt like one. Part of me wanted to tell him to stay, wanted him to fulfill the delicious promises his mouth and eyes made. But I wasn’t a casual sort of girl, and what I knew about him would fit in a tuna can. Plus, I still didn’t trust him. Plus, he worked for Mason, and that was bound to put us at odds.
I gave a faint shake of my head. Damon heaved a sigh and nodded.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Regret filled me as I watched him go. I didn’t call him back.