The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

I bet it was snake-like, but held that thought to see what else Kel knew. I didn’t have tons of time before Franco was supposed to show up to “prep” me for tonight.

  “Anything else I need to know?” I asked.

  “Though rare, the Grimple are considered extremely dangerous. One of the reasons why there’s not many first-person accounts of what they look like. Fraulein Fassbinder is very envious that you might be dealing with one in person. She asks that you keep detailed notes on your observations and if the individual morphs into her full Grimple state, try and get some photos. That is . . .”

  My stomach dropped. “Meaning that when a Grimple changes they are not a lot of survivors.”

  “You got it.”

  This mission was getting suckier and suckier by the moment. “Did Fraulein Fassbinder have any ideas how to minimize or neutralize a Grimple?”

  I assumed I’d need to know how to neutralize more than minimize, but good to know as much as I could.

  “Fassbinder indicated that fire and water wouldn’t work.”

  “I was thinking more along bullets or knives.” That was the problem dealing with creatures most people thought of from myths and fairytales, the dark kind and not the happily-ever-after ones. There wasn’t a lot of mention about using contemporary weapons to stop them. Plenty of mention of scimitars, mortuary swords, and pikes, but they were not easy to slip into a purse or hide in a shoulder holster.

  “I’ll continue to dig,” Kelly said. “But Fraulein Fassbinder says since these creatures are so rare, you may become our leading authority on the subject.”

  Lucky me.

  “According to the Fraulein, a Grimple is an aberration of a Sith, mixing a preternatural genetic background with a demonic one.”

  “That explains a lot.” I had no doubt about Dominique as a demon.

  “Tell me, does Bran ever smell like ocean air? When not around the ocean?” Kelly asked.

  “Now that you mentioned it, he does. Not salty or briny, just—”

  “That scent of primordial fresh air.”

  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “The Fraulein mentioned that warlocks have an affinity with the oceans of the world.”

  “So is she saying Bran is dangerous or not?” I asked, not wanting the answer.

  “All warlocks are dangerous.”

  Like I didn’t already know that. At least I’d sensed it; I hadn’t actually seen Bran zap anyone or whip out a powerful spell. Yet.

  “I do have good news,” Kelly added, as if she knew I stood in the middle of a mind whirlpool.

  Thank heavens, leave it to the perpetually sunny kindergarten teacher to find some silver lining.

  “Jaylene did one of her tarot readings and pulled a special card for you.”

  “Knowing Jaylene, what doom and gloom am I going to have to deal with now?”

  “I think it may mean good news. She pulled the magician card.”

  “Speak in English.” I swallowed, only too aware the magician card was also called the mage card. Mage meaning warlock. I tightened my hand on the railing. “And?”

  Kelly slipped into her teacher lecturing mode. “Jaylene said the magician means someone skillful and self-confident. A powerful magus with a strong sense of his own infinite power.”

  Now why did that sound exactly like Bran?

  Kelly continued, “The magician calls on all powers; all the possibilities are laid out, all the directions a fool can take. He calls forth the sword of intellect and communication, the fiery wand of passions and ambition, the overflowing chalice of love and emotions, the solid pentacle of work, possessions, and body.”

  Did Kelly have any idea how her words were making things worse, not better?

  “Cut to the chase, Kel, I’ve got to leave in a sec.”

  “Jaylene says beware the magician and you should be safe.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell Kelly that avoiding a particular mage was impossible.

  “Okay, will try my hardest,” I lied, adding, “Ling Mai know you’re spreading Jaylene’s predictions?”

  “Only the decent ones.”

  “Good. Here I was afraid of a daily tarot reading.” I glanced over my shoulder, aware of the sun creeping toward the horizon. Tonight would be my first night outed as Bran’s date; as if anyone was going to believe that. But that wasn’t my problem, mixing and mingling was.

  As if reading my thoughts, Kelly asked, “You up for tonight’s op?”

  Good phrasing. For Vaughn this would be a piece of cake; for me, anything but with small talk and pleasantries with a bunch of strangers I was trying to pump for intel. Stepping into Bran’s world was worse than stepping into a pit of vipers, but for the sake of the mission, I’d do this, acid eating my stomach every minute.

  “Ling Mai’s going to owe me for this one.” I meant every word of it.

  “You have clothes to wear?”

  “Bran sent a message that an outfit was on its way.” Coward didn’t tell me in person.

  Not that he should; he was a busy man.

  Great, now I was making excuses for him.

  I shook my head, clearing thoughts. “Have you heard anything more on Sasha’s death?” I asked, back on track.

  “No. They should have a blood analysis in a few more days.”

  Days? Just what I wanted, more tiptoeing while waiting for a killer to strike again. I didn’t think Sasha’s death was an isolated event. The model either knew something, or someone wanted the girl out of the way. But why? And was I next on the to-die list?

  “That’s it? Tell me Sasha had some big dark secret in her background that could explain her death and that it had nothing to do with the thefts.”

  Kelly’s silence sent my stomach plummeting.

  “What is it?” I demanded, keeping my voice low. “What have you found out about her?”

  “We haven’t confirmed anything yet.”

  “What haven’t you confirmed?”

  Kelly cleared her throat. “There’s a possibility Sasha was a member of a new investigative branch of Interpol.”

  CHAPTER 36

  “Interpol?” I waited for my heart rate to slow as I pressed against the verandah rail. “But I thought I was sent in because Interpol found nothing.”

  “You were and they didn’t,” Kelly replied.

  “So why is an Interpol agent here, or was here?”

  “I said possible Interpol. She was undercover and breaking their cover, even when dead, is not easy. Besides, Interpol normally doesn’t handle undercover assignments. It’s not in their mandate.”

  Undercover but not invisible. Collette spotted Sasha as an impostor the first day. I should have listened to the warning. So who else had also made her? Was that why Sasha was killed?

  “What do you mean by a new investigative branch?” I asked, my mind whirling with the implications, but at least it kept me from focusing on Bran, and what he did or didn’t know about Sasha. “Like us? Going after you know who?”

  “Can’t get enough specifics to know for sure.”

  A sigh escaped me. “But if Sasha was Interpol, I’d think they’d be all over this tour.”

  “On some levels it doesn’t make sense, but on others it raises some serious issues.”

  “Such as?” I braced myself.

  “They don’t trust us to get the job done.”

  Well, duh! I could live with that. It wouldn’t be the first time another government agency doubted the viability of a team of agents without years of law enforcement background. Vaughn’s own father, the director of the CIA, had been a major stumbling block not that long ago and the IR agency was so new on the block we were unheard of by a lot of the big name organizations.

  Kelly continued, “Another option is Interpol is involved with the tour, but not obvious.”

  “Another agent inserted?”

  “It’s a possibility. Then there’s the chance they know something more about the thefts, something that bumped this to a h
igher priority status and they were compelled to take action.”

  “And they’re not sharing that intel with Ling Mai?”

  “Exactly, which means they’re using her, or more specifically you, on one level, while keeping us in the dark. Believe me, Ling Mai’s looking into that aspect as we speak.”

  Good. Maybe something would start to go right. So far the mission had been a bust and I was no closer to who, or what was behind the original thefts.

  “Have you made any progress on searching individual rooms?” Kelly asked.

  “Not so far. With everyone on high alert, I haven’t had an opportunity. But I’m planning on going in tonight.”

  “After your date?”

  Date, my foot. “Yeah. I’m planning on leaving the function early so I’ll get to a few rooms before people return.”

  “I don’t like this,” Kelly admitted. “You watch your back.”

  “Believe me, I will.” But against whom? Dominique? That was a given. Bran—I couldn’t ignore the fact he might be involved on some level, even if only to protect someone else, like his cousin or a staff member he treated like the family he never had. I knew he was hiding something, just not what. Who else? Collette with her background? Or could Collette be an Interpol agent?

  “Kel, did you or Mandy find anything else from the fingerprints I gathered?” Had it only been days ago? “Mandy started to tell me about one of the models, Collette, but didn’t go into a lot of details. All I know is she had a criminal record.”

  So did I, which is why I hadn’t followed up on the information until now. My bad.

  I listened to the ping-ping-ping of keys being pecked before Kelly came back on the line. “That’s right. Criminal record. Plea bargained away years ago when she was going under the name Connie Backus.”

  “What type of charge?”

  “Fencing stolen goods.”

  Crud. Collette just zipped to the very suspicious list.

  “Anything else?” I didn’t really want to hear more.

  “Yeah, we’re having trouble with your Franco’s fingerprints.”

  So not my Franco. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Ling Mai’s pushing for a deeper check on him; something popped up that grabbed her attention. And then there’s one other staff member that’s requiring a deeper background check. Beyond what Interpol shared.”

  That didn’t sound good. Not that I expected Interpol to hand us everything, but enough to get their dirty work done.

  “Who—”

  “Suzette.”

  A knock on the door had me looking up.

  “The assistant?” I asked, lowering my voice as I eyed the door.

  “Yeah. Nothing major but some inconsistencies with her background.”

  Great. The list of possible suspects was growing not declining.

  “Gotta go, Kel, someone’s here.”

  “You play it safe.”

  “Always do.” Well, not always. Okay, maybe not most of the time, but that wasn’t the point.

  “Check in tomorrow. Same time.”

  “If possible.” The knock came again. “Bye.”

  I knotted my bathrobe tighter before crossing to spy through the peephole.

  Franco. With a plastic covered dress bag and a small Asian woman at his side.

  I opened the door tentatively, hoping I could snatch the dress and close the door in one quick move.

  No such luck.

  Franco barreled through like a Japanese bullet train, tugging the small woman in his draft. “At last. We do not have all night. Teena, there.”

  The woman beetled in with what looked like a bulky card table in her hands. She crossed to the center of the room and proceeded to flip locks and twist knobs.

  “What’s going on?” I eyed the growing contraption that emerged like a praying mantis from a cocoon.

  “We have less than an hour.” Franco sounded his normal domineering, snippy self. “Quick. Undress.”

  That had me rearing back. “Not in your wildest dreams.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head, and spread the plastic parcel he’d held across my bed. “Don’t be difficult or a prude. We are here to get you ready.”

  “For what?”

  “Tonight of course, silly woman.”

  The man was so cruising for a bruising.

  “All I need for tonight is a dress.” I flattened one hand on Franco’s chest and pushed. “Thanks for bringing it. Goodbye.”

  “Not so fast.” Franco braked against my shove and puffed up like a cocky rooster. “You have two choices. The ayurvedic oil rub or a Javanese Lulur wrap with sandalwood, ginger, and tropical flowers.”

  “Since I have no idea what you’re talking about I choose neither.”

  He sidestepped my hand, tsked, tsked again and spoke to the Asian woman. “Teena, we’ll go with the oil rub and a neck and upper body massage.”

  I glanced at the woman, now smiling and standing near a table covered in white cotton towels. “I’m not—”

  “Oh, yes, you are.” Franco stepped forward. “Think of me as your doctor.”

  I backed up in disbelief. “Not in a zillion years.”

  “Fine, then as your mentor,” he said.

  My get-real glance bounced off him. “I don’t need a mentor.”

  “You do if you are going to blend into Bran’s world.”

  “He said that to you—”

  “Of course not.” Franco sighed. “He indicated he was escorting you this evening. The man assumes you can handle the shark pool he swims in daily, but I know better.”

  “Know what?”

  “That you have vulnerabilities.” He gave me a steady look I didn’t care for at all. That and the ‘v’ word.

  Good grief, I was on a mission, not getting ready for my wedding day.

  “Forget it, Frank. I only need a dress, nothing else. I can hold my own.”

  “I’m your ally here.” His voice sounded calmer than I’d ever heard it before. “I don’t know why Bran is escorting you, though I have my suspicions with that look in his eyes; but that is not my business. I will not let you leave this room until you look your best. After all, my reputation is at stake here, too. Besides, I owe you.”

  “For what?”

  “For believing in me when it would have been far easier to keep silent.”

  I brushed his answer aside. “You’re innocent.”

  “That’s not my point. A different woman would have held her tongue, not become involved, but you didn’t. I will not forget that.” He pointed to Teena. “Now we must get moving.”

  “Tell me why I have to do the lulu-what-ever-it’s-called thing?”

  “Because you will have no friends tonight once you leave this room. The ayurvedic rub will be your shield, protect you against your enemies, or those who wish you harm.”

  I assumed he included Bran in his comment of no friends.

  Franco continued, “You must be on the attack, your defenses in place, all your weapons ready.”

  “You make it sound like I’m going into battle. I thought it was a social gathering.”

  “See.” He flared his hands. “This is why you need me. You will be the object of speculation, envy, and yes, even hatred, especially after I’m done prepping you. Women do not play fair. They are more cunning, vicious, and dangerous than any male adversary.”

  And here I thought having been raised with only brothers had given me such a warped view at times.

  “You know women well.” I shrugged, aware I’d always found it far easier to deal with men than women. At least most men, one arrogant, complicated, tempting dress-designer warlock being the exception.

  “Yes. It’s my job to know and understand women, and I am good at it.”

  No ego there.

  He clapped his hands. “Now chop, chop. I shall turn my back.”

  “How grand of you.”

  “Yes. I make this one exception as we are short on time. Some miracles take lon
ger than others to create.”

  As he spun about, crossed his arms, and tapped one foot like a bandmaster, I released a trapped breath. He wasn’t going to leave or concede. And on one small point he was right. I had little time. Better to bite my tongue and get through the next thirty minutes, then I could dress and would be on my own. But I wasn’t going to take my eye off of Franco for one minute. Not until Kelly confirmed his fingerprints.

  Twenty minutes later I heard my own languid sigh, and had to force my eyelids to stay open. Teena was a miracle worker, loosening muscles I didn’t even know were clenched rigid, rubbing oil into my skin in slow, methodical movements. If the mission didn’t dictate that I get up, get dressed, and attend the function with Bran, I could have spent all evening just being pampered.

  “See, I told you it would be worthwhile.” Franco’s voice sounded positively smug, but right then even that didn’t bother me. Another miracle.

  So he was right about this part—didn’t mean I had to buy his gloom-and-doom analysis of what awaited me at the gathering.

  By the time Teena wiped away any excess oil, folded her cot, and disappeared and I had shimmied into a dress the color of Bran’s eyes, a deep, deep midnight blue, I was ready to face the evening.

  Until I glanced in the full-length mirror.

  “You are magnifique.” Franco came up behind me, looking peacock proud.

  “It’s not me.” The words escaped before I could call them back. The dress, spread on the bed had looked simple and uncomplicated, but the shape was deceptive. On me it molded like a lover’s embrace, hugging curves I didn’t know I possessed, draping in a shower of silk, darkening my skin tones and bringing out the inky blackness of my hair.

  “You must wear your hair down and loose,” Franco said, eyeing me with an appraising look.

  “I’m the hairdresser here,” I snapped back. But was I? I didn’t look anything like the person who curled and moussed all day. The woman before me was exotic and sensual. The neckline exposed cleavage and the cut of the dress, voluptuous curves. The thigh-high slit along my right side made my legs look miles long. My skin gleamed golden from the oil and the pampering. And Franco was right, down, my hair added to the wanton sexuality.

  My brothers would never believe I was their little sister. My dad would have me under lock and key. And Bran? Not that his opinion mattered; but, damn him, it did.