Grace got out of the car to follow the Chinese men into the same building she and Aiden had retrieved Mojo from, back when all of this started. As they got closer and closer to the heavy door, her fingers tightened around the wooden box she held in her hands.
What had she done? She'd just left Aiden there with those things. Abandoned him. What if they were hurting him? Or worse?
Then she thought: What if she was right? What if he wasn't Aiden at all, but the demon, and had been all along? What if he'd just been playing with her?
Grace thought back to the days she'd spent with him. No. There was no doubt in her mind when it was Aiden she was talking to, and when it was the demon. Even when he was angry, he didn't strike fear in her like the shadows that swirled in his eyes when that thing decided to come out.
She should have tried to do something, should have tried harder to get those things to let him come with her. She could've explained to him why she'd done what she’d done, after they were somewhere safe.
Her hands began to hurt from gripping the wood so hard. Duh! The box! How could she have been so stupid? Maybe she could've traded the box for Aiden! The head demon dude was certainly keeping his eyes on it. And the humans wouldn't have dared to do anything about it. Not surrounded by those things.
It just might have worked.
She held back a sob. Now she may never get that chance. It had all gone so horribly, horribly wrong. It wasn't supposed to have gone down that way. Aiden was supposed to be here with her.
And even worse than that, she'd lost her Mojo again.
No. There had to be something she could do. She slowed her steps, letting the men pass, and made herself think.
She glanced down at the box gripped in her hands: The one thing of value she had in her possession to barter with.
Would it be enough to get Aiden back? It had to be. Both the humans and the demons seemed to have major hard-ons for it. If she could get away, maybe she could still barter the box for her vampire.
She glanced around discreetly. No one was paying her mind. The idiots. They just expected her to meekly follow them, as women were supposed to do.
As they passed by the next alleyway, she veered away and ducked behind a large trash bin. Peeking around the side, she checked to make sure the coast was clear, and then climbed up and dropped down inside of it, quietly pulling the lid closed above her.
Ick. Disgusting.
Breathing as shallowly as she could, she waited.
Sure enough, one of them eventually noticed she was no longer there. Footsteps pounded past her putrid hiding place as they ran down the alley searching for her. She heard them come back and go out to the street, taking off in the opposite direction.
Guess they thought that no one in their right mind would ever hide in a trash bin full of rotting food from the restaurant next door. Luckily, she'd never been accused of being in her right mind.
Inch by inch, she lifted the lid and then scrambled out with the box. Keeping to the shadows, she ran.
Glowing eyes watched her from the shadows, and then followed her at a discreet distance.
Grace had barely gotten one knock in on her friend's apartment door before it was swung open and she was yanked inside, the door slamming closed behind her.
"Where the fuck have you been? And why do you smell like you just crawled out of a garbage disposal?"
Heather Knight was not one to mince her words. A few inches taller than Grace, with chestnut hair, cognac-colored eyes, and some seriously dangerous curves, she stuck out worse than Grace in this country. She was also her best and only friend.
A transplant like Grace, they'd met in college, and had gotten jobs at the same hospital after graduation. Heather was originally from Pennsylvania; having moved to China with her parents when she was twelve, when her mother's company transferred them there.
"I'm an idiot," she told her.
"Yeah. And?" Heather waited for her to elaborate.
Grace groaned aloud and headed into the living room, which was almost exactly like her own, even though it was in a different building. "Holy shit. You're never going to believe..."
"Hold it right there. I can't talk to you while you're stinking up my place." Holding her nose with one hand, she used the other to shoo Grace towards her bedroom. "Shower. Use soap. Or maybe Comet. Borrow whatever clothes you want."
Grace giggled at the nasally sound of her voice, but went off to do as she was ordered.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged. Her hair was wet, and the drawstring was barely holding up her borrowed sweat pants, but she had to admit, she felt better.
"What did you do with your old clothes?" Heather asked from the kitchen where she was sipping on the coffee she'd made.
"I threw them down the garbage shoot."
"Awesome." Handing Grace a cup of hot coffee, she patted the stool next to her. "Sit. Talk."
Gathering her thoughts, Grace took a sip of the bitter liquid and smiled. Heather sucked at making coffee. Everyone knew it but her.
Maybe she should get her one of those single cup machines? Even she couldn't mess that up.
"Grace!" Heather slapped her hand on the counter.
Startled from her musings on her friend's lack of culinary skills, she jumped, and her coffee sloshed all over the clean counter. "Now look what you made me do!"
Heather got up and tossed a dishtowel at her. "If you don't start talking, I'm gonna do a lot worse. Now, come on! I haven't seen or heard from you in days. AND, you didn't warn me beforehand that I would be neither seeing you nor hearing from you. Which tells me that I should have seen or heard from you, and I didn't. So, spill."
How much to tell her? Though she'd been her best friend for years, Grace had managed to keep her family secrets safe. Mostly through the art of distraction. If Heather ever started prying too much, Grace would just ask her something about whatever current gossip was making the rounds at work, and she'd be off on another subject. Usually forgetting all about what she'd been nagging her about.
However, she had the oddest feeling that ploy wasn't going to work this time.
"Well," She took a deep breath. "It all started when Mojo snuck out of his carry bag and into someone else's..."
Leaving out the words "witch", "vampire", and "demon", she gave her the complete low down of what had been going on for the last few days. When she finished her story, she discovered that she'd managed to do the impossible.
Heather was struck mute.
But not for long.
"Why did you have Mojo with you at a restaurant? I've told you that that was going to happen. You can't just leave him on the floor like that, he's a curious little dude."
Grace blinked dumbly. "Of everything I just told you, that's the part you choose to focus on? Telling me 'I told you so'?"
Heather shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "I did tell you so."
Grace busted out laughing.
"So how are we going to save your hot, British friend?" Heather asked innocently.
Taking her empty cup to the sink, Grace shook her head. "Oh no. You're not getting involved. These are dangerous Suits I'm dealing with." (Not to mention the one's who have Aiden are actually vampires possessed by demons.) "I'm not dragging you into it."
"Who's dragging? I'm volunteering!"
"No way, chickie. You're not coming."
Heather gave her a disbelieving look. "You can't tell me 'no', Gracie. You're not the boss of me. I'm coming with..."
A steady knock on the door had both of their heads pivoting in that direction.
Grace waved her hands frantically as Heather got up to open the door, but she just shushed her and mouthed, "I've got this."
Heart pounding, she half hid behind the counter as Heather opened the door. For the second time in so many hours, she actually saw her friend struck mute, and it wasn't hard to see why.
The guy at the door had to be the most perfect specimen of a male she'd ever seen, if you were into the outdoorsy type. Or even if you weren't actually.
Standing at least six foot seven and dressed casually in jeans and a tee shirt, he had long, brown hair shot throughout with golden highlights. It hung past his broad shoulders in soft waves that made a girl itch to bury her hands in it. Clear blue eyes sparkled underneath heavy, dark brows, and a close cut beard covered his strong jaw. His upper arms were nearly the size of her thighs, and his heavy jeans did nothing to hide the defined muscles of his legs. He practically oozed masculinity and confidence.
Her statuesque friend barely came up to his shoulder.
"Excuse me for interrupting." His voice was deep, as one would expect from a man his size, but his words were intelligent and cultured.
Definitely not what one would expect from a mountain man.
Grace came around the counter as Heather finally realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it closed.
"My name is Brock," he continued. "Brock Hume. I don't mean either of you any harm. I'm, uh, actually here to offer you my help."
Heather smiled like the cat that had just stolen all the cream. Stepping back to allow him entrance, she swung the door open wide in invitation. "Please, come in," she purred. "Please," she repeated when he didn't move fast enough to suit her.
Running up to block him, Grace muttered a quick "excuse me" and slammed the door in his face.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"What are you doing?" Heather asked in disbelief. "Did you see him?" Fanning her face with her hands, she mouthed, "Oh. My. God."
"Seriously?" She lowered her voice again. "He could be a serial killer, or a kidnapper, or both. He could be working for the Suits!"
"I'm not working for the Suits," he called through the closed door. "Or anyone else for that matter. I just thought you ladies could use a hand, is all."
"Ladies," Heather emphasized, before pushing Grace out of the way and opening the door again.
"I'm so sorry. Please, come in," she told him again.
Running his eyes up and down her voluptuous form, perfectly displayed in her yoga pants and tank top, he barely glanced at Grace before ducking his head and coming inside.
Heather stuck out her hand. "I'm Heather Knight."
His large hand engulfed hers as he raised it to his lips to press a firm kiss on the back.
"Heather," he acknowledged.
Grace thought her friend was going to get an old fashioned case of the vapors when his deep voice rumbled out her name.
Clearing her throat loudly, she managed to pull his attention away from Heather's cleavage long enough to introduce herself. "I'm Grace."
With a slight shake of his head, he tore his eyes from Heather and pierced her with honest blue eyes. "Nice to meet you, Grace."
"Can I get you anything to drink? Some coffee?" Heather offered.
Grace tried to catch his eye to warn him, but he was too mesmerized by her friend to notice.
"Coffee would be great. Thank you."
His head tilted to the side and his eyes wandered down to watch Heather's plump behind strut over to the kitchen to get him a cup.
Really, dude?
As Heather disappeared around the counter, blocking off his view, he bit his lip and caught Grace watching him.
She lifted her eyebrows, and he had the good grace to look sheepish.
"Your friend is stunning," he told her low enough so Heather didn't overhear.
"Yeah, I know. So, who the hell are you and what do you want? Besides my best friend, that is? And by the way," She snapped her fingers at him to make sure she had his attention. "You can't have her."
"Does she have a boyfriend? Oh man, is she married? Please tell me she's not married."
The 'she' in question sashayed back into the room and handed him a mug full of hot, steaming coffee.
"What are you guys whispering about?" She shot a questioning look at Grace before smiling at their guest.
"I was just asking him what the hell he was doing here," Grace announced loudly.
Instead of berating her for being rude, Heather cocked her head and looked at him curiously, waiting for him to answer her friend's question.
Thank the gods, I was starting to worry I'd completely lost her for a minute there.
He looked back and forth between the two women a bit nervously, and took a sip of his coffee.
Grace waited for the inevitable wince and painful swallow that always happened when people first tasted Heather's coffee, but he surprised her by nodding appreciatively.
"Mmmm. Finally! A good cup of coffee. Everything here is so damn weak."
Grace rolled her eyes as Heather beamed with pride.
Brock froze with his cup halfway to his mouth and stared at her friend's smiling face like he'd been buried in a mine for his entire life and was seeing the sunrise for the first time.
Grace couldn't take any more. "All right you two, cool it before I douse you both in ice water."
"Sorry, I just..." he mumbled.
"Whaat?" Heather said at the same time to Grace.
"How about we all sit down and you," she pointed a finger at Brock. "Can tell us why you're here."
"Of course," he agreed. "Sorry."
As they made their way over to the couch, Grace pushed her way to the middle and sat smack between the two of them. With the sexual tension between them this hot and heavy, they'd never get around to talking about anything if she didn't keep them separated.
Brock smiled at Grace with a look that said he knew exactly what she was trying to do, and it wasn't going to work. Then he shot Heather a lusty wink.
Angling himself so he could face both the girls, he settled back into the corner of the couch cushions and stretched out his long legs, crossing his ankles.
"Comfy?" Grace asked with a sardonic lift to her eyebrow.
Heather smacked her on the arm for her rudeness, but he just grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "Very. Thanks."
Crossing her legs and arms defensively, Grace asked, "So, why are you here, Brock?"
"I followed you here."
"You've been following me?" Grace asked their visitor. "Why?"
Brock's eyes skipped over to where Heather was sitting on the other side of Grace. "Would you mind getting me another cup of this fine coffee, sunshine?" He gave her another wink and a roguish grin.
"Sure, no problem." Heather smiled back, then took his cup and went over to the kitchen to get him another cup.
As soon as she was out of earshot, he leaned in closer to Grace, saying quickly and quietly, "I don't know how much she knows, so I wasn't sure if I should say anything in front of her. But I know you've been hanging out with that vampire, and I know you guys were hiding from the demons. I also overheard the deal you made with the humans, and I was there when you guys were forced out of your hole like moles and it all went to hell."
"How do you know all this?" she asked quietly.
He looked directly at her. "I have good hearing. I'm a wolf."
"A wolf?" she whispered.
"A werewolf."
Grace stiffened and jerked away from him as Heather came back and handed him his coffee.
"What did I miss?" she asked as she plopped back down on the couch next to Grace.
"Nothing," Grace said too quickly. Standing up, she grabbed Heather's hand. "Excuse us a moment," she said to Brock.
Dragging her best friend into the bedroom, she closed the door behind them and leaned back against it. "You need to stay away from that guy."
"What? Why?"
"Just trust me on this one."
Heather planted her hands on her generous hips. "This is the first good-looking guy that's paid any attention to me in years, and you're cock-blocking me? What the hell, Grace? I'm not exactly the type guys go for around here."
Grace grabbed both her friends' hands and held them in hers. "Heather, please. Just listen to me on this one. Please."
Suspicion darkened her eyes to more of a russet color. "What aren't you telling me, Grace?"
She stared at her friend, wanting so badly to tell her, but after a lifetime of keeping secrets, it was hard to change her ways in the spur of the moment.
And, whether her friend realized it or not, she was doing her a great service by not dragging her into all of this craziness. It was better if she went on believing that the things that went bump in the night were nothing but the result of her watching too many cheesy horror movies.
Her chin dropped down to rest on her chest, and when she looked up again, her green eyes were full of remorse. "I wish I could tell you, I really do. But I can't. I'm so sorry. Please, Heather, just believe me when I say that this guy is dangerous."
Heather shook her head in denial. "I'm not getting that vibe from him, Gracie. I think you're overreacting."
"I'm not. I swear. Please, believe me. I would never cock-block you for no good reason. You know me better than that."
They stared at each other for long moments. Then Heather finally heaved a great sigh, squeezed her hands, and nodded.
"Okay. Okay. You're my best friend. I guess I'll have to trust you. For now."
Grace breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
Releasing her hands, Heather took a step back and laughed derisively. "Don't be thanking me. You're the one who's going to have to put up with my moody ass because I'm not getting any."
"I thought that's why you went to kickboxing class?"
"It is. But beating on a bag can only do so much."
"I hear ya," she agreed, thinking of her own lack of a sex life up until now. "Ok. Let's get back out there. And Heather?"
"Yeah?"
"I swear I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't honestly know the guy was bad news."
Heather gave her an affectionate smile. "I know. Don't worry. I'll behave."
"Thank you," she told her earnestly.
Brock was standing at the window when they came back out. Turning around, his eyes went directly to Heather, but his smile faded when she averted her eyes and took a seat across the room on the barstool at the kitchen counter.
His eyes skipped over to Grace, but she just returned his stare with a cold one of her own, daring him to say something. With a sigh of resignation and a last longing glance Heather's way, he went back over to the couch to join Grace.
With no further ado, she demanded, "Tell me how you can help me get Aiden away from those thugs." She hoped that her saying "thugs" rather than "demons" would indicate to him that he'd been correct. Heather knew nothing about the supernatural beings they were dealing with.
"Well, I don't know that Aiden is with them anymore," he admitted.
"What do you mean? Did he escape?"
"Not exactly. I think he may have gotten some help from some...acquaintances...of mine," he told her, with an emphasis on acquaintances.
Acquaintances? Ohhh. Did he mean other werewolves?
"Do you know this for sure?" she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. "No. I don't. But I was...with them, when I came across you and your friend and saw what was going on. I followed you, and they stayed there to help."
"Well, can't you just, like, call them or something, and ask?" Heather asked.
"Uh. No. I don't have a phone." He held up his hand before she could suggest that he use hers. "And I don't know any of their numbers off the top of my head."
"How many of your 'friends' were there with you when you found us?"
He returned his attention to Grace. "There were four others besides me."
"Would that have been enough to take them out?"
"I don't know."
"It doesn't sound like enough guys to me," Heather interjected, turning to Grace. "You said there were at least ten of those ugly guys, plus the Suits that you snuck away from. Right?"
Grace nodded.
"What if they went back to help their friends? Four guys wouldn't do much damage." Her face lit up as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Unless they were packing some serious firepower! Did they have guns?" she asked Brock.
"Uh, no," he told her, smirking a bit when her face fell.
Grace flopped back onto the cushions, thinking furiously. This dude seemed to be on the up and up about everything supernatural that was happening around here. She wondered if he would know why they were all after the box.
Jumping up, she retrieved it from the bedroom where she'd left it and brought it out to Brock. "Do you happen to know anything about this?"
His eyes widened as he reached for it with a tentative hand. "Where did you get that?"
"I kind of accidentally stole it," she told him with no remorse whatsoever.
Opening the lid, he reached in and removed the red felt material to reveal the engraved picture of the dagoba underneath.
"No fucking way," he breathed. His eyes remained riveted to the box as he asked her, "Do you even realize what you have here?"
"Well, obviously not, or I wouldn't be asking you."
Snapping the lid shut, he grabbed Grace by the upper arm and stood up, pulling her along with him.
"Hey! Let go!" she yelled.
Heather hopped down off of her stool to help her friend, but stopped where she was when Brock told them both, "We need to get out of here. NOW. Both of you are coming with me. Get ready." Letting go of Grace's arm, he slapped his hands together. "Come on, ladies! Let's go! Let's GO!"
Jarred from their shock, Grace exchanged an anxious look with Heather, and then they both ran to get their shoes and coats. The alarm in his voice was all the encouragement they needed.
As soon as they had their stuff, he shooed them towards the fire escape.
Dammit. Looks like she may need to enlighten Heather after all, but she was determined to hold off on that as long as possible.