Taking The Night (Nightshade series Book 1)

by J F Posthumus

One hand held the robe shut, and she knew her hair was a mess, half-pinned and half-falling around her head. Her makeup was smudged, and considering what her reflection in the mirror had been, she looked as though she'd be in the middle of something pretty intense.

  “Make this quick,” she growled. “You just interrupted what would have been a very... enjoyable… shower.”

  Bernie's hand was in mid-knock, and he stared at her, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped half-way open before he snapped it shut. Alex was doing his best to not stare at her, though his eyes kept flicking back to her hair, face, and where she was grasping the robe just at her neck.

  “Um, we, uh…” Bernie stuttered.

  “We're here to make sure you weren't out... anywhere... tonight,” Alex said, his eyes staring at the living room window.

  “Uh, we might need to see your... guest,” Bernie managed to say as he stepped carefully past Selia before nearly running into her bedroom.

  “Fine,” Selia said, shifting seductively. “I'll be right back.”

  She turned and sauntered casually back to the bathroom, opening the door just enough for her to slip into it. She walked to the shower and opened the door.

  It took everything in her to not burst out laughing as she stared at the Sandman.

  Standing in the middle of the falling water, he was grinding his teeth. Frigid water splashed out and she realized belatedly she'd only turned on the cold.

  “Well, you did say you wanted a cold shower,” she whispered, which only got her an even angrier glower and more grinding of teeth.

  “Sweetheart, it seems some friends have come over to see if I'm safe. I haven't the foggiest idea why, but they said they might need to see you.” Selia continued, her voice loud, seductive, and apologetic.

  She held a finger to his lips, getting her wrist wet. She placed her other hand at her throat and used just a touch of magic to change her voice.

  When she spoke, it was in a higher, playful voice, nothing like her own. “Aww, but I was hoping to have you all to myself, darling.” She paused, grinning at the fury burning in the Sandman's eyes. In the ‘other woman’s’ voice, she added, “Are they going to be joining us?”

  Selia dropped her hand and dispelled the magic. In her normal voice, she replied. “I don't know, honey. I'll have to ask them.”

  She leaned in and kissed the Sandman on the cheek. Giving him a purely wicked grin, she closed the shower door. Returning to the living room, she ran her wet hand over her now-damp hair. Both men stood with slack jaws and bulging eyes. Alex gathered himself into a more respectful pose and expression within a second. Bernie continued to gape, although a very chauvinistic smirk was pulling at one corner of his mouth.

  “So, do I need to tell my friend she needs to dry off and we make it a party?” Selia asked with as much innocence as she could muster, tilting her head slightly.

  “Uhhhh...” Bernie said, before a teenage giggle erupted briefly from his mouth. He actually slapped his left hand to his mouth.

  “No! No need for that!” Alex said quickly. He actually put his hands out as if to ward off something. “It's very nice of you to ask, but we can see you've been busy, and are going to be busy for a while.”

  “We actually can't see, so maybe we could-” Bernie began.

  “Shut up!” Alex roared at Bernie. “Do you ever think before you speak? Soren would put your balls in a vase if you so much as-” Alex stopped suddenly, looked back at Selia, and gave her a nervous smile. “We'll be leaving, now,” he said in a much calmer voice.

  “Hey, just so we know...” Bernie said, that smirk still on his lips, “... your friend is...”

  “Karen. Her name is Karen. She’s a hot little redhead. A ballerina. No, you can't see pictures,” Selia said; her voice laced with warning and pride.

  “You and Karen enjoy the rest of your evening.” Alex offered. “I'm get the walking tool over here out into the cold air, so he'll calm down. After that, we're a memory.”

  “Have a good night, boys,” Selia drawled. “I know I will.”

  Bernie opened his mouth to say something, but Alex grabbed him by the collar and gave a swift yank. They shared a look, Bernie looking a little annoyed and Alex giving him an expression that was clearly a warning and a threat. With a final nod towards her, they turned and left. Selia locked the door after them before padding back to the bathroom, not bothering with holding the robe closed anymore.

  Opening the shower door, the Sandman had moved to the far side of the stall but was still getting soaked; she reached in and turned the water off. Not that he could have done anything; his hands were still full of her stuff.

  “They're gone,” she said with a bright, cheerful smile, despite his glower. He remained silent as he stepped out of the shower. “We're all alone again, darling,” she continued in her best seductive voice, still trying not to giggle at him.

  “Well put a red wig on me and call me ‘Karen’, sweetheart,” he said, deadpan. “You realize I have to clean every single one of these weapons, and the contents of my pouches, immediately? Otherwise, it's all rust and unreliable equipment?”

  “I know,” she replied, still trying to not giggle. “I'll help. I even have a robe you can wear while your clothes dry.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A fter an extensive and time-consuming search of the living room, kitchen, and her bedroom for bugs and cameras, Selia and the Sandman sat on the living room floor cleaning their weapons. She wasn't surprised to find the place clean of bugs. After all, why would Alex and Bernie be sent to check on her if they'd bugged the place?

  She glanced over and rolled her eyes. “Do you really have to wear that towel?”

  He was wearing a tight pair of boxers, and a large, fluffy white towel that was wrapped around his face and head. Only his eyes and the bridge of his nose were visible. But she could swear he was grinning underneath the fabric.

  “Man of mystery: Gotta stick with the modus operandi,” he replied easily. “Besides, you haven't earned it yet. Not after that shower gag.”

  Selia giggled. “Well, it was either that or I conceal you with magic and chance it would collapse with them here.” She turned her gaze back to putting the gun she'd just cleaned back together again. Stifling a yawn, she said, “I'm sure I could find a way to get back into your good graces. Alex and Bernie won't be back until at least tomorrow.”

  “By tomorrow the internet will be replete with rumors that we're getting our own reality show called ‘Crimes of Love’ or something worse.”

  She snickered. “Or thinking it was all a publicity stunt for a graphic novel in which you get a girlfriend to spice things up.”

  “Forgive me for not being thrilled if I have that option to think of as the best,” he grumbled. “You know, I've been operating for over a year and barely been more than a rumor within certain circles. I met you and now I'm going to have to hire a publicist.”

  Laughing, Selia lifted her gaze to meet his still-angry eyes. “Yeah, well, this is probably why Soren drilled into me the importance of keeping my head low. He knew if I allowed my heritage to show, it wouldn't be missed.” She yawned and stretched. “Another reason to want Alfi dead, yes?”

  Secretly, she enjoyed allowing her true self to shine through. It felt right and natural, whereas keeping quiet and in the background had felt wrong. Even before she'd been pulled into this disaster, her life had felt wrong, as though she were living a lie.

  “It's so nice that you are enjoying yourself. I wish I could have known you when I first started,” the Sandman interrupted her thoughts with his irritated tone. “With all the publicity it would have garnered, I'd be pulling in mad merchandising royalties by now and living large off the interest rates of my Swiss bank accounts.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and no words came out. Her mind seemed locked by his statement and obvious disapproval.

  “Oh, good. I have your attention,” he continued with a faux casualness. “So, how do you see this a
ll playing out? Should I just expect to spend the rest of my chosen career planning around driving you back and forth from your secret identity and your life as a Mafioso princess who couldn't harm a fly? No, that's not progressive enough. I'll put in an order for a matching electric motorcycle. Or do you want yours to have some extra style so people can tell who's coming on the scene?”

  Anger curled inside Selia, and she carefully set the gun down and stood. She had to move away from the weapons, or she might be tempted to use them on him. Something she didn't want to do; she was a bit surprised to realize.

  “I didn't ask for your help,” she bit out. “I'm sorry if the thought of you being killed caused me to bring you into the limelight. That wasn't my intention.” No way was she going to tell him there might be more than just a physical attraction between them. “If you prefer, you can walk out that door and I won't cross your path again.”

  The phrase was frequently used as a promise to never see anyone again on Temeria. If that was what he wanted, she'd do it. No matter how much it might hurt.

  “No, you didn't ask for my help; but that's how it works.” He continued, adopting a cartoon caveman voice, “See defenseless person running from goons, me go help, ugh. Sandman is good guy. He not know woman in high heels just want to corner goons so she can kick butt and dazzle a crowd.” He dropped back into his normal voice. “Before you assault me or get righteous, explain how you've gone so long without lashing back at the life you chose?”

  “Soren saved me from death. He took me into his home, kept me safe, and watched over me. Something he didn't have to do. He protected me when I had no one; showed me warmth, affection... love,” she said, walking to the window in the kitchen and staring out the window. “I obeyed him first out of fear, then loyalty, and finally love. I saw no reason to disobey him. I actually feared that if I did anything, it would hurt him, and I couldn't betray the person who I owe so much. Someone who taught me so much and showed what a parent should be like to their child.”

  She glanced at the Sandman, who was watching in silence.

  “Children in Temeria aren't shown much affection. My mother cared for me and my sisters, but there were no gifts given, no shoulder to cry on if a pet died. Nothing other than the distant caring like that of a bird that raises her chicks before kicking them out, to either fly or die.”

  “Fine. I can see why you were with Soren.” The Sandman put aside the last weapon he'd been cleaning. “But I was referring to you being such a recluse. Obviously, you haven't gone ten years without keeping yourself in shape. I don't think the bow and arrows you keep in your gym bag are merely for sentimental value. You've been keeping yourself in training for a reason. Your true nature is screaming to get out and stay in the open.”

  She jerked away from the window. “What do you want me to say, Sandman? That I was waiting for a chance to wear a mask and that suit to storm the night?” She shook her head. “I couldn't do anything in the open. Sure, I keep in shape and keep the less obvious skills sharp, but that doesn't mean I was waiting for a chance to turn back into a warrior.” She shook her head, not sure if he would even understand. “Soren encouraged me to honor my heritage, but that doesn't mean I could let it free.” She sighed heavily. “I'd still be hiding my true self if I hadn't been forced into this ludicrous cat-and-mouse game.”

  The Sandman laughed, but it wasn't cruel. It was good-natured and it took her off guard.

  “Selia, think back to the first time you started acting this way. I am not complaining, dear lady. But please... think back.”

  “What? The group was going to ambush you.” She shrugged. “I couldn't let that happen, so I stepped in.”

  “I've been doing this for over a year, Selia,” he said with a voice that was like a teacher explaining something to a slow but promising student. “Do you think that would have been the first time I got blind-sided? How many other... sidekicks, assistants, partners, whatever, do you think I've had?”

  “You've had exactly zero,” she replied with confidence. She didn't eavesdrop on the meetings Soren and the other underbosses had with Al for nothing, and the Sandman had been a frequent topic.

  “Precisely,” he replied, nodding. “So, how have I survived this long without you? Did you just happen to be there on the one night when things got too heavy for me?”

  “No,” she replied. “I was there because you took me to meet Lucien.”

  “You still don’t understand,” he said with a sigh. “I've been in much worse situations than the one you joined in on. That's not macho posturing, Selia. I was the one who interfered with the large shipment of illegally imported animals last fall. The police were alerted and did the cleanup. They took the credit. But that group of thirty crewmen that were 'apprehended’? The police didn't have to subdue a single one of them. You might have seen the hospital bills for those guys, since it was your ‘family’ that hired those guys. Think they were all standing in a single spot when I got there, and I threw a super-sized stun grenade at them?”

  Selia gave a dismissive shrug. “That was one of the other underbosses.” Then, it dawned on her and a look of understanding and comprehension crossed her face. “I get your point, I think. You didn't force me to step in. It was my choice. I could have easily stayed out of it, but I didn't. I entered the battle without any other thought than taking down the enemy.”

  Dear gods, did she just say that? It was almost a direct quote from her instructors on Temeria when she was learning the art of war. Talk about scary. She hadn't thought of those lessons for years.

  “That's exactly what you did. You just saw an opportunity that you'd been secretly waiting for, and the rest was instinct and passion.” He nodded to her. “When you jumped in, I actually had to think around you more so than the arrival of more goons. I appreciated the help, even more so at the rave. But your style is very different from mine. Some part of you wants to be a spectacle, to show what you are capable of. I want to be able to do what I chose to do without ever escalating odds against me. You can't do that when your enemies know who you are, what you look like, and how you operate.”

  Selia met his eyes with hers and kept his gaze as she asked in a completely emotionless voice, “Do you want me to stop? I'll still go after Alfi, but I'll leave the city to you if you desire it.”

  “I want you to respect the danger you put us both in.” He began putting away the gear into the compartments of his belt, which was on the floor in front of him. “I enjoy working with you, and spending time with you. I'd like to think we can continue to spend time together after this mess with Alfi is done. I don't intend to kill more casually because you do. Nor am I going to lecture you about how you deal with adversaries. We will either find a way to work together; or we won't.” He paused. “I'd prefer that we do.”

  “So would I,” she replied softly. “I can't change who I am or how I was raised for sixteen years.” She offered a soft smile. “At least you aren't going to be targeted for as many murders with me around.”

  “How do you figure that?” The Sandman rose up off the floor, the now repacked utility belt in his left hand.

  His batons, gleaming with oil, hung from the loops made into the belt's webbing. He placed the belt on the table and went to the bathroom door. Both of their outfits were hanging inside to dry. He peeked in and nodded.

  “Oh, come on,” she replied. “There is photographic evidence of me with bodies at my feet. I was raised from the crib to kill and took my first life when I was eight. That, I might add, is considered ‘old’ for my people.” She paused before continuing. “I come from a race who have been killing for generations. It's bred into us. That's a part of me that isn't going to change. If and when I fight, the probability of corpses is far greater than leaving people unconscious, bound, and gagged.”

  The Sandman chuckled. “You are incorrigible. I was referring to how do you figure I'll be targeted less? You came onto the scene after me. The body count has just increased by, oh, at least on
e thousand percent. For those who think you are my sidekick, I will be held accountable. For those who think you're my boss, I'm a way to get to you. Anyone disbelieving in you at all is just going to hold me responsible for the deaths you caused.”

  She considered what he said and tapped a finger against her lips. “I'll know for certain once things calm down and Soren is back at work.” A smile pulled against her lips as he glanced at her with a raised brow. “Soren likes taking me along wherever the meetings are for the Family. I might not be in the room, but I certainly have enough spells under my belt to eavesdrop on any room. Soren knows it and likes having me take notes for later... use.”

  She'd never questioned his methods, but now she wondered why Soren asked her to do that. She now also wondered what he did with the notes she kept and if he acted against the things he had often objected so strongly to.

  “I'll try to curb my more deadly tendencies. Perhaps if I had a pair of batons like you used,” she offered with a smile.

  “I've got a spare pair in the bike's compartments, along with replacements at the lair,” the Sandman replied cheerily. He went into the bathroom and emerged with their outfits. “All dry. Now, what shall we do with the rest of the evening?”

  “Are you going to take off that towel and leave the mask off?” Selia asked, her eyes twinkling.

  “Nope, you haven’t earned it yet,” he replied, smirking.

  “You jerk,” she said, laughing. “Fine, how about a movie? Unless you prefer taking the chance of sleeping with me?”

  “How do you feel about horror movies?” he asked, his dark eyes laughing.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  S elia woke up to the smell of bacon, coffee, and the sound of something sizzling in a skillet. Her stomach grumbled and she slid from the bed, running a hand through her loose hair as she followed the smell into the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled even as she blinked her eyes trying to remember how she got into the bed. The last thing she remembered was being curled up on one of the sofas beside the Sandman watching an old horror flick.