by S R Mitchell
Jess watched from the trees as part of the safe house suddenly exploded. He watched as he was filled with both shock and anger.
The bastard had been serious and beat him to this place. He’d told Pratt to mind his own damn business and that he had the situation under control, but obviously, Pratt had felt the need to interfere.
It pissed Jess off.
Pratt was becoming fucking irritating with his little fucking moles to check in on Jess and messing up his plans. If Pratt would have kept his prying little nose out of shit and let him do his thing, this would all be done and over by now. He was starting to wish Pratt had never become part of the equation, but who was he kidding? He needed the money and Pratt generously supplied.
His hard fucking work and his plan for tonight were fucking ruined. He breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of his anger.
What.
The.
Fuck.
He’d known if there was anyone at all Brock would ask for help, it would be David. The tracker he’d mounted under the bed of the truck when he’d spotted David at the Arms Facility had come in handy. He hadn’t planned on Trent, though. It was a shame to take him out, too. They were two of the company’s best ops.
He crept through the tree line, keeping his eyes on the destruction taking place in front of him. A second explosion went off, and then he could see just a little movement before the truck began to speed off.
Lucky bastards—very lucky.
He pulled out his field phone and put a call through to the man he was very much beginning to hate. The line rang once before a hissing voice answered.
“Well,” said Pratt, “good of you to call.”
“I explicitly told you not to interfere,”
Jess growled into the phone. “You just fucked up a plan that would have been successful.”
“Are you pissed because my men seemed to up you and get there first? Jealousy is not a flattering trait,” answered Pratt.
“Look who’s talking about jealousy,” retorted Jess.
“No,” hissed Pratt, “I am not jealous. What I want is simple—to be the best. Why I need your nephew’s company out of the way,” he paused, “he is interfering in my success and he is a smug, know-it-all, want-to-be businessman. Those types piss people off and get in the way. Plus, you benefit from this as well when we merge. You shouldn’t be complaining.”
“Stay out of my way, Pratt,” Jess hissed. “This is not what we discussed.”
“When we met several months ago on your little trip, when you were drunk and gambled your money away for the night, you were all too happy to make a deal. You don’t want my men interfering? Then get the damn job done,” Pratt hissed back, “and I cannot guarantee no interference from my men if you are lacking.”
The connection went dead and Jess yelled as he threw the phone with all his strength.
Chapter 13
“Let’s check the perimeter of the apartment before we go farther,” Brock directed as they came to David’s apartment door. So far everything had checked out, but so had everything at the cabin. They weren’t taking any chances.
“If they screw around with my apartment, it is so on,” David retorted, but agreed with Brock.
When Allie was given the all clear, she entered the apartment with Brock close at her side. She watched as Trent emerged from a dark hall and gave the all clear.
“If we’re safe for the moment,” Allie said, gaining the guys attention, “can someone point me in the direction of a bathroom and a shower, please?”
Allie was so beyond happy and relieved she’d left her backpack in the truck. It had her toiletries bag and a few changes of clothes in it.
“Oh yeah, you can use the spare bedroom. It has its own bathroom with a shower,” David told her. “Brock knows his way around.”
“Yeah, I can show you where it is,” Brock answered. He turned, grabbing Allie’s hand and leading her through the living room that sported a lot of grays and an undecorated Christmas tree propped in a corner, then down a dark hallway. “So, the spare room is the door at the very end of the hall on the left.”
Allie hated seeing undecorated Christmas trees, she thought as Brock pulled her along.
Allie followed him in and looked around the room. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big, either. In the middle of the tan colored room was a full-sized bed already made up. Across from the bed, in the left corner, was a small cushioned blue armchair and a beige floor lamp with a pitiful potted plant—a silk golden Dieffenbachia silk plant. Looking up at the bookcase, she smiled to see an empty shelf lined with candles.
Allie turned to see Brock leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets and one foot over the other looking totally bad boy.
“His ex stayed here sometimes and the candles and the bedding were hers,” Brock muttered, coming toward her. “David just left them there.”
“This is not how I saw myself spending the holidays,” Allie muttered.
“Me either,” Brock replied. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, but I’m not sorry I met you.”
He stood close to her. He took her backpack and set it on the armchair.
This woman had the power to make his blood burn and the need for her just grew the longer they were together. Is this what he’d been missing in all his other relationships? Needs had been met, but at the end of the day he’d never felt for any of them what he was feeling for this woman in the short time he’d known her. He was drawn to her…and the magic? He thought it was cool. He’d never thought it real until her, and he was very intrigued. He wanted to find out about everything she can do. She was smart and he enjoyed talking to her and holding an actual conversation.
“I want you to be mine,” Brock said in a deep gravelly voice. “I want you all to myself.”
Allie couldn’t think with him so close to her. She shook her head, “I want you, too.”
She listened to his quickened breathing as she reached a hand under his shirt to feel his skin, his abs twitching in response as she let her fingers slide down his torso. “I don’t understand why I’m so drawn to you,” she voiced, almost a whisper, then blushed. “Well, I mean,” she stumbled, “I know why, but you make me feel things that I haven’t felt before. You make me a little nervous, to be honest.”
“Ditto.” Brock smiled and kissed her. He pulled off her jacket, tossing it onto the armchair to join her backpack. Soon her pink cotton top followed, along with his own shirt.
The feeling of skin on skin was enough to drive Brock crazy and he growled deep in his chest as he swiftly placed her on the bed and leaned over her. “Lord, woman, I want you.”
Allie tried to catch her breath and smiled, kicking off her ankle boots. She pushed herself farther up on the bed and pulled him along with her. Maybe it was everything that happened, but she felt daring, sexy, and for once, she wanted to throw caution to the wind. She didn’t want to be sweet Allie; she wanted to be a sexy vixen. Brock made her feel beautiful and sexy. She liked it.
Brock made quick work of removing her bra while he ravished her mouth with his own. Then he moved to slowly place kisses down the sensitive skin of her neck and chest until he found what he sought. He was rewarded with a feminine moan as she arched her back to give him better access.
Her hands racked over his back and into his hair, pulling him away from her breast and back up to her mouth as her hands found his zipper.
“Dude,” came David’s voice, “did you two get freaking lost? We still need to make some calls and try to figure all this shit out.”
David’s voice was like an ice bath, effectively ending the lust-filled trance in which they seemed to be caught. Brock jumped up to quickly lock the door before David could come rushing in and see Allie lying half naked on the bed.
“Do not take another damn step closer to this door,” muttered Brock firmly.
“Okay,” came David’s voice again, followed by the sounds of retreating footsteps.
Brock’s eyes hea
tedly traveled her body as he ran his hands through his hair. “Go ahead and jump in the shower. I’ll go take care of business with the guys in the kitchen. Take your time…”
Allie covered her chest with a pillow and watched Brock pull on his shirt and leave the room. The room suddenly felt colder than it had a moment ago, and Allie quickly hopped off the bed and made her way into the bathroom.
~*~
Brock slipped his cell back into his pocket. “Mason, my assistant, said that he has personally received a few of the weird calls on his private line like what you’d mentioned,” he offered. “That line is specifically used by me and me only.”
“What?” asked Trent as he joined David and Brock at the kitchen table with a sandwich in hand.
“He said he had answered the first call without even thinking, expecting me to be on the other end of the line, but the voice he heard was not mine,” Brock said. “No way someone could have that number.”
“Jax has been snooping for us,” answered David as he watched Trent shove half the sandwich into his mouth and shook his head.
“And?” asked Brock as he looked at David, waiting for him to continue.
“He said one of the guys mentioned overhearing your uncle on a phone call. He’d gone by your uncle’s office to report to him on training stats and said your uncle sounded pissed. Said he was yelling into the damned phone,” answered David.
“Your uncle has been testy for weeks, dude,” piped in Trent between bites of his sandwich. “If anyone needs to get laid, it’s him.”
“Trent,” David chided.
“Just telling the truth,” Trent stated, still chewing.
“And why is this weird?” asked Brock. “He sometimes gets like that. It’s how he is. Uncle Jess is not exactly the best people person.”
“Not so much the yelling, but who he was yelling at,” David countered.
“Who?” Brock asked.
“Pratt,” David stated. He and Trent just stared at Brock, waiting for the information to settle in.
“Shit!” Brock hissed, standing to pace the kitchen. “Maybe Jax heard wrong.”
“Yeah, boss man,” Trent said around his food, “like double shit. That dude hates your fucking guts with a passion and no way Jax heard wrong. Your uncle said the guy’s name a few times before hanging up.”
“He wants my company,” Brock stated with anger in his voice, “but he’s not getting it. He tried merging with Dad when he was alive, and my father told him to pack dirt and screw off.”
“He could be behind this,” David replied.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. Between everything that’s happened over the last week and the Channey case, it’s beginning to make sense,” Brock offered.
“When I’d left work last Friday, I had discovered a huge discrepancy with the paperwork concerning the client and the job to be performed by my ops explain why shit went down the way it did.” Brock took a calming breath, “Someone had screwed with the job intel. I didn’t mention it to anyone. I’d planned to do a little digging come Monday, and then all this shit happened. You two are the only other ones who know.”
“Screwing around with the ops job would directly affect your reputation within your clientele circle,” Trent stated.
“Yeah,” agreed Trent. “Screwed up jobs, screwed up reputation, no business. And what company would your clients probably go to next?”
“Pratt’s?” David offered, raising an eyebrow.
“Pratt’s,” Brock spat, “the son of a bitch!”
“Shit, man, they’re trying to take you and your company out.”
“Shit! Why didn’t I see the clues that something was going on sooner? The screw ups started small and grew until recently,” Brock replied. “It wasn’t a little screw up and someone had to have messed with the job intel from the inside. I’d chewed some major ass and thought I’d figured it out—a mole. But this is bigger.”
“That would explain that new little pissant, us losing weapons clearance, and our names taken off the list,” David said, looking at Trent. “We need to find the mole and take him out. We need to take out Pratt.”
“Or them,” countered Brock. “I am betting on more than one mole, David.”
“Or them,” repeated Trent in agreement, “yeah, bet it could be more than one person.”
~*~
Later that night Brock walked through the door to see Allie sitting in the armchair and reading a book. “Wondered where you went off to.” She looked so cute with her legs crossed under her and engrossed in the words on the page. The light from the lamp wasn’t much and she had the blinds pulled up slightly to reveal the snow falling past the window a few feet away.
“You guys were talking business and I decided to try and take my mind off the fact that someone is trying to kill us,” Allie sighed. “I still can’t believe this is happening to us,” she broke off.
“I can sleep on the couch in the living room if you want,” Brock offered. “Trent took the futon in David’s office, so that leaves the bed or the couch.”
“Here is fine,” Allie smiled shyly. “Is everything okay? It sounded like it was getting pretty intense in the kitchen.”
“It will be,” Brock answered as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know you will do everything you can to protect me and resolve this,” Allie said quietly. “You are a smart, strong man.”
“Thank you for having such strong faith in me,” Brock replied.
Allie sighed as she ran a finger over the leaves of the plant that sat beside the armchair and smiled as the beautiful leaves perked right up. She’d given it water when she’d returned to the room to dress after taking a much-needed shower. She jumped in the shower hoping it would help clear the fog in her brain so she could make sense of everything.
“I want to see where this goes,” said Brock, breaking the silence as he watched her bring life back into the shriveled plant beside her.
Her eyes cut to his—such a vibrant, beautiful shade of green that his breath caught. “My mom would really like you,” Allie said. “You’re a man I could be proud to bring home to meet her,” she said. “She was always worried about me meeting the right person…or the wrong person.”
“I can understand that,” Brock replied. “I think my mom would have really liked you, too, and she’d always wanted a daughter, but health reasons prevented her.”
“I’m sorry,” Allie said quietly.
“I’m sorry for you, too,” Brock said. “We’ve both lost important loved ones. I was fifteen when she died and still miss her like it was yesterday.”
Allie looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“Don’t do that,” Brock admonished gently, smiling at her, “it’s okay.. She gave me more love than anyone, and I had an awesome childhood. The cancer was just stronger than her body.”
“The autopsy came back inconclusive for my mom. They found a few signs of heart disease and a partially-clogged artery, but in the end they told me that some people just go young and it was her time,” said Allie. “But she was awesome and more than I could have ever hoped for in a mother. I never knew my dad. He couldn’t handle the fact that she was a…” Allie paused.
“Witch?” Brock offered.
“Well, yeah,” Allie responded, “and he left when I was a baby. Mom only talked to me once and then never brought it up again. I think she still loved him and hoped he would come back.”
“Did you two share the same…“ Brock waved his hand in the air.
“Magic? Powers?” Allie offered and chuckled. “Somewhat, but her magic was always stronger than mine.”
“I think you underestimate yourself,” Brock smiled.
“That’s what my aunt tells me,” Allie countered.
“So, all witches have the same abilities?” He asked curiously.
“We may share a few abilities, like being able to light fires and candles and heal to an extent, but each family is unique and each family passes down thei
r own book.” Allie paused, trying to see if he was getting uncomfortable and she needed to stop, but he looked intrigued. “Our family is more in tune with nature, plants, and such. We can make plants grow and we can heal them. But even within our family there are irregularities—deviations from the norm—and some are stronger than others. Each magical family’s strength is different and passes down generation to generation. ”
“What do you mean by ‘book’?” Brock asked, wanting to know more.
“Our spells,” Allie answered bluntly.
“Now you’re freaked out, huh?” Allie asked quietly as she watched his eyes widen.
“No,” chuckled Brock, smiling at her. “That’s freaking cool as hell. Now I’m wondering, what else have we read in fiction and watched in movies that could actually exist and nobody knows it?”
“People would be scared and then we’d have a Salem all over again,” Allie replied. “People tend to overreact. It’s all good when they think it’s just part of a movie or Halloween stunt, but anything other than that, and you’d think the world was ending.”
“I see,” he said gently. “Did you…have family in Salem?” Brock asked.
“Yes,” Allie answered, fiddling with her fingers.
“Sorry,” Brock answered.
“Why? You had nothing to do with it.” She looked up at him.
“So, tell me more about the book?” Brock asked, taking the subject off Salem.
“Like I said, each family has one and it’s passed along through the keeper. My Aunt Margret is our keeper,” Allie continued. “She helped me a lot after mom died.”
“The what?” he asked.
“The keeper,” she answered. “There’s one female chosen in the family—each family—to keep and protect the family book until it’s time to pass it to the next keeper. The keeper helps to teach the younger generation the spells and such.”
“So, you get it next, I assume, since your aunt has it now?” Brock asked.
“Yes,” Allie answered. “It was to be my mom if anything happened to my Aunt Margret, but now that Mom is gone, it’ll go to me.”