They left the elevator on the top floor. They had stopped a couple of times on the trip, but everyone saw them and decided to get a different one. Vincent ignored Director Thompson’s receptionist and went straight for his office. He knocked once.
“Come in, Special Agent Castello,” the director called back.
Vincent opened the door and let his team in before entering. His eyes fell on Director Thompson, an older man in his mid-fifties. Salt and pepper hair was combed to the side, with a goatee with the same graying. He wore a perfectly pressed black suit, like he always did. They had met before, on several occasions. Vincent had to appeal directly to him to join the IMPO years ago. No one else had given him a chance. Then he and James had to convince him to let Vincent form the team.
“Director,” Vincent greeted him. “You wanted to speak to us about Texas.”
“I wanted to personally say good job,” Director Thompson replied. “You found yourself in a situation we hadn’t expected. Stevenson, the ‘sheriff,’ had some things to say, but nothing serious. We handed over names of the more violent anti-Magi people to non-Magi law enforcement groups. We already made moves to relocate any Magi living in the area. All thanks to your team.”
“And the killer?” Vincent walked closer to the desk.
“Cory Stevenson will be placed under care, probably for the rest of his life,” the Director replied softly. “But execution is off the table.”
“That’s good,” Sawyer whispered, cutting off something else from the director.
Whatever Director Thompson had been going to say was silenced. Vincent looked over to Sawyer, who had found a spot near a large fireplace. The office was expansive with couches, a small bar, the fireplace. It was half lounge area and half office and took up nearly a quarter of the top floor of the building. Vincent would guess that there was even a private bathroom and a panic room attached to it.
“Shadow herself, in the flesh,” Director Thompson said cautiously, as if he expected Sawyer to blink across the room and kill him for speaking to her. When she didn’t respond, he spoke to Vincent. “You know, Special Agent Castello, I’ve always been somewhat proud of your little ragtag team of trouble and strange, but you really crossed a line there.”
“I merely held the WMC to the contract provided to her.” Vincent stayed calm.
“You replaced the team that died for her originally,” Thompson retorted.
“I’m in the room,” Sawyer called out softly. “And there’s no need to remind anyone here of anything that has to do with me. We’re all well aware of it, all the time.”
“She speaks,” Director Thompson scoffed. “Are you as arrogant as I’ve heard?”
“There’s no one in this building, excluding Quinn, who can beat me in a fight,” she replied, sounding bored. “Is that an arrogant statement when it’s a statement of fact?”
Vincent closed his eyes, frustration washing over him. Arrogance was her shield, her defense. Confidence was her way of keeping people from starting the fight to begin with. Using it against the director was not a good move.
“I would say you have less reason to be, since you’ve been caught and exposed,” Thompson reminded her.
Vincent held back a groan.
“Not by you, and not in a fight,” she said. Vincent could swear he heard a laugh in her voice.
“Does she follow orders?” the Director asked him.
“She does,” he confirmed. “She’s just arrogant. She has reason to be.” He didn’t like admitting she had the right either, but he wasn’t going to lie to the director or himself.
“Does she?” Thompson sounded offended. “What does an infamous criminal have to be arrogant about?”
“She hid in New York for four years, right underneath our noses. I would say the arrogance was well-earned.” It wasn’t Vincent who said it, but Jasper. Vincent was nearly surprised, and Kaar ruffled a little bit, feeling Vincent’s near-shock. He would have expected Elijah or Zander to make that comment.
“See.” The director picked up a glass from his desk and took a drink. “This is why I wanted you guys to come see me. You all did a fine job in Texas, including you, Shadow. But people aren’t happy about this. Actually, there’s some who say that this might be your attempt, Castello, to take your brother’s place.”
Vincent’s eyes went wide, and he heard curses from the guys, but it was Sawyer’s laughter that stood out.
“Vincent Castello is nothing like Axel. Fucking believe me. If he was, I wouldn’t fucking be here, that’s for damn sure.” She was still laughing as she walked closer. Vincent looked at her again, the swagger in her step, the shake of her head as she laughed. “Why would I ever serve anyone like Axel again?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Director Thompson asked. “He gave you wealth and power.”
“I can have wealth and power on my own,” she scoffed, looking insulted. “I did when everyone thought I was dead. The wealth, at least. Power was never really my thing. All Axel ever gave me was scars and nightmares.”
“Sticking to the story you told them?” Thompson asked quietly.
Vincent narrowed his eyes at the director.
“It’s the truth,” Sawyer stated plainly.
“Axel confirmed it, and you don’t want to see the tape of that interview,” the director told them. “But that doesn’t mean everyone is willing to believe it.”
“Do you?” Sawyer asked dangerously. Vincent felt the room grow colder. The sharp edge of her magic as her temper was rising.
“I do,” Director Thompson told her gently. Vincent saw her jerk to a stop, no longer approaching the director to get in his face. “I personally went to the orphanage in the Atlanta area and confirmed your childhood with Special Agents Wade and Williams. I personally looked into the man who ‘adopted’ you and the Reader who did your reading that you claimed sold your information to Axel. Both were dead three months after encountering you, by the way, and we’d had reason to believe that Reader was dirty for years.”
“Whose side are you on?” Vincent asked him. If he believed her story, what was this about?
“The IMPO’s,” Director Thompson answered. “If you keep doing a good job, like you did in Texas, I’ll look out for you. One fuck-up, though, and I’m shutting this down. Do you understand? I can’t let mistakes slide. I have to protect this organization from the whispers of WMC and criminal corruption.”
“You can fucking try,” Sawyer told him harshly.
Vincent heard grunts of agreement from his team. He didn’t like that his team was going against the director, but he agreed with Sawyer.
“I’ll succeed,” Director Thompson snapped back. “One step out of line on a case. One broken protocol. I have some sympathy for you, but I won’t let you take down the IMPO with you if you fuck up.”
Vincent knew that was going to come up. Everyone was looking for reasons to break this team up, behind closed doors where he couldn’t see who was for or against them. Now he knew where the director stood. He’d gone out and confirmed her story on his own and decided he would give her and the team one chance.
“Thank you, sir.” Vincent stood back up. “Is there anything else?”
“No. Keep out of trouble tomorrow at the WMC. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” they all replied, except Sawyer. Vincent looked at her and she shrugged, remaining silent. It was almost like she was saying she only answered to Vincent and the team. Vincent was proud of having her respect like that, and terrified of the power that came from it.
Later in the day, Vincent took Sawyer out shopping. They had left the IMPO building the moment the director released them. They’d gone back to the hotel and just relaxed. Elijah, Zander, and Jasper went to the pool. Quinn disappeared to the rooftop with Kaar and the wolves.
He’d grabbed her and brought her to the mall before she could go hide in her room.
“I hate this,” she muttered.
“There’s a dress code for the show w
e’re going to,” Vincent reminded her. “I would like to get you something. A gift.” It would be a gift to himself, really. He wanted to see her in a dress.
She narrowed her eyes at him as they walked through the mall. He just gave her a small smile, trying to pretend there was nothing but the obvious answer. “Isn’t this something we shouldn’t be doing? Doesn’t this look bad for the team?”
“No, I always take one teammate out while in New York for something nice. Depends on who needs it. Zander and I went to see a Broadway performance. Hamilton. He had a good time.” He chuckled. “It’s a fun performance, which he needed.”
“But people think I’m yours now, and not in the bedroom sense,” Sawyer reminded him.
“You’re not wrong.” He sighed, his mood deflating at that. “But I won’t let them completely run my life through rumors.”
“Good,” she said, grinning. “What’s the dress code?”
“Black tie,” he answered. “I was thinking something simple and black for you.”
“Oh, amazing.” Her voice had a false excitement. “Are you going to tell me what the show is?”
“No.” He couldn’t tell her the show, or she would find any reason not to go. It was a risk, a dangerous one that could backfire on him, but he was going to try. He hoped she understood his reasoning when he finally did tell her.
Vincent stopped in front of a little boutique and pulled her in. It suited his needs. He found an attendant quickly and Sawyer groaned when he started talking. “We’re looking for a simple black cocktail gown for her. Needs to pair well with flats. It can be as short or long as she’s comfortable with. Nothing sparkling or jeweled - it’s not her style. Simple and practical.”
“Know my style?” Sawyer inquired, elbowing him.
“I know you,” he teased.
She laughed at his response then followed the attendant away.
Vincent found a seat near the dressing rooms and watched Sawyer, with an armful of gowns, walk out of view.
“I’m ready with dress number one,” she announced. She stepped out and Vincent couldn’t breathe.
He always thought she was capable of looking beautiful, since she was in a unique way. He’s always found her physique to be enticing and dangerous. She owned the space around her, even in sweats and a sports bra, even when she was trying to hide.
The floor-length mermaid gown made her look like a dark goddess. The attendant must have convinced her to release her hair from the ponytail, since it fell in thick and uncontrolled waves over her bare shoulders. The neckline plunged, revealing the small amount of cleavage she had. The waist was pulled in and gave her a curve to her hips that he’d never noticed.
His mouth was dry. She was stunning.
“Well? It shows off the scar on my chest, but any dress would, I think. That one or any of the others.” Sawyer stepped in front of the mirror and he noticed that she glided in the gown - no swagger, but rather, more proper. She turned away from him to look at herself and his eyes went straight for her toned ass. “Vincent? What do you think? Will it work for the thing?”
He just kept staring at her. A simple change of clothes had changed her. Her posture was different. No more simple, easy slouch to her shoulders, as she kept herself relaxed. They were square and her back was straight. It made the more feminine features of her face come out, which he could see in her reflection in the mirror. The defined cheekbones she had, the fuller bottom lip, scarred or not.
Stunning.
“Vincent?” She turned to him and he almost couldn’t breathe. The spin was perfect. Who was this woman? He’d never expected Sawyer to be good in a gown. It was like she lived in them and he knew that wasn’t the case.
“Yes.” He was decided. Even if she didn’t wear it for their date, he was buying it for her. That gown didn’t belong on anyone else. “How much?”
“Four thousand,” the attendant whispered to him.
“We’ll take it.”
“Excuse me?” Sawyer snapped. “You aren’t buying me a four thousand dollar dress.”
“Consider it an early birthday present,” he told her, pulling out his credit card. To himself. It was an early birthday present to himself. She wouldn’t sleep with him, which hurt like hell, but he could enjoy her in that dress for an evening.
“Damn it, Vincent,” she muttered, and walked back to the dressing room. She yanked the tags off before shutting the door and handed them to the attendant.
“Were the others as good as that one?” he asked the attendant before she ran the charge.
“That one was my favorite for her,” she answered softly. “It’s a gorgeous gown. She wears it well, though it reveals the scar.”
He hadn’t even noticed the scar. She walked out and dropped the dress on the counter for it to be packed away.
“Thank you,” Sawyer mumbled.
“No problem. It looked great. You deserve to have something nice.”
“I have nice things,” she retorted. “Like my Audi. My BMW.”
“But no gowns. Nothing nice for you to wear.” Vincent took the bag from the attendant after sliding his credit card away. In a softer voice, he continued. “Nothing that makes others realize you’re beautiful, like I think you are.”
“Don’t get romantic on me now,” she whispered, taking the bag from him. “Save it for the date. Plus, I know I’m not an ugly duckling. I just don’t care about looking good over comfort.”
Vincent laughed, shaking his head.
Next was shoes, which Sawyer tried on a simple pair of black flats and decided that was it. He watched her buy several other items, even getting a bit curious when she went to the stockings and got a pair of lacy thigh highs.
“You know a lot about dressing up for a woman who cares more about comfort,” he mentioned nonchalantly. He wanted to see what sort of information she would offer him in exchange. He wanted to learn more.
“I’ve played ‘pretty date’ or ‘hired whore’ for work before,” she replied casually. “If I needed information about a job, or a way into the building without cloaking, I could dress for it.”
“Really?” Vincent was curious.
“I got inside a mansion for one of my hits by pretending to be his brother’s escort.” She shrugged.
“I’ll remember that,” he murmured, thinking about the possibilities.
“Don’t. I hate that shit.” Sawyer huffed, rolling her eyes. “The things I used to do were easier and safer with as little human interaction as possible.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow, but he would give her that point. He didn’t question it as he paid for everything she was going to wear with the dress.
“Ready to go back to the hotel and relax for the day? Tomorrow will be rough on you and then we’ll have a late night. You might want to get some extra sleep tonight, pass out early.” Vincent tried to make is sound casual as he walked out of the mall with her.
“You noticed I haven’t been sleeping.” She called him out.
“Yeah.” He wasn’t going to lie to her.
“It’s all of this.” She waved around, and he guessed she was referencing New York. “I’m worried about tomorrow. About what the WMC is trying to do.”
“What do you want to do to stop it?” He was always so curious about what she wanted, what she thought would work to solve a problem. He was desperate to get inside her head and knew he never would truly know what was going on in there.
“Fight them for it.” Sawyer’s tone was hard. Her face was emotionless, but he knew she meant it. “They can take me off this team over my cold, dead body.”
Vincent didn’t have an argument against that. He knew she meant every word.
10
Quinn
Quinn met James in the IMAS lobby on Tuesday morning. The team was headed for the WMC for mental health evaluations. He was alone for whatever this was.
“Quinn. How are you?” James kindly greeted him.
He liked their handler. James wa
s a good male who looked out for them as if they were his own children, even though they were adults. Quinn never knew or had a father, but he privately wished James could have been that person.
“Confused,” Quinn admitted. “Why am I here?” He held onto Shade’s collar with his right hand, letting his fingers scratch the wolf underneath where it was itchy. Scout stayed pressed to his left side, nervous and tense. The wolf didn’t want to be touched, though, and had never let Quinn really touch him when he was nervous. He knew that Sawyer could soothe Scout, but he didn’t have her around. Scout liked and trusted that woman a lot.
“They need you to hear them to.” James sighed. “Come with me. I only know very rough details.”
“I’ll listen,” Quinn promised. He walked with James to an elevator, but instead of going up, they went down. He frowned at his companion for the meeting, but James didn’t offer any more information.
They went down three floors, deep underground and left the elevator. Quinn was more comfortable with this than he was on the street above. He could feel the earth on the other side of the walls and knew that if anything messed with him down here, if anything threatened his life, he could bring the building down. Not only could he bring the building down, but he and those with him would be perfectly safe. It would be easy.
“Now that we’re down here.” James pulled him to the side. “This is about Druids.”
Quinn snarled in response. He should have guessed. His temper immediately flared, and he started to seriously think about how easy it would be to bring the building down.
“They need you,” James whispered. “Quinn, there’s Druids down in South America that are believed to be killing off villages of people, destroying land. I don’t know many details.”
“Where?” he demanded. He could already guess, but he wanted to know for certain.
“The Amazon rainforest,” James told him. “Right now, I’m telling them that you will only give them what you know about Druid powers, you will only work in a consulting position. I don’t want you going in that rainforest. From what you told me before-”
The Redemption Saga Box Set Page 76