Transcending Darkness

by Airicka Phoenix

  “Miss.”

  A handkerchief—an honest to God square piece of fabric with an embroidered M—was pressed into her palm. She stared at it in wonder for a full second before she wiped at her eyes.

  “There’s nothing I can do, is there?” she whispered. “I can’t help him. I can’t fix what happened.”

  Kind, black eyes peered down at her with more pity than she liked. “You have already done far more than you realize.”

  It was hard to imagine how that was possible when she hadn’t done anything, when Killian was still hurting, but arguing about it wouldn’t do any good either.

  “Perhaps you would like me to mend your coat,” Frank offered when they both simply stood there in the echoing silence of the foyer.

  Juliette had forgotten all about the tear in the shoulder where the wool gaped to reveal the satin fabric underneath.

  She shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ll sew it when I get home.” She sniffled and peered down at the mess she’d made of his handkerchief. Snot, tears, and smudged makeup had turned the once spotless bit of material into a disgusting sight. She grimaced sheepishly. “I’ll get this cleaned for you.”

  The hint of a grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. “It’s not a problem, ma’am.”

  She started to stuff the thing into her pocket when voices outside the door had her scrambling. She looked up at Frank with wide, panicked eyes.

  “He can’t see me like this,” she blurted. “He’ll ask and I…”

  “I understand, miss.”

  Deftly, he caught her arm and guided her straight to a nearby washroom and stuffed her inside. He shut the door behind her.

  On the other side, she heard Killian’s voice giving instructions, the scuffle of several feet as they drew closer. It was ridiculous, but her heart gave a jitter of dread, like she was doing something she shouldn’t be.

  Shaking back the feeling, she moved to the sink and turned it on cold. Careful not to get her sleeves wet, she splashed her face. She reapplied a fresh coat of makeup, and double checked her reflection for any signs of her weeping before letting herself out.

  “There you are.” Killian was walking towards her from the corridor leading to the kitchen. “Everything all right?”

  Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, Juliette nodded. “Just needed the washroom.”

  Dark eyes searched her face before dropping to the torn sleeve. “You need a new coat.”

  Juliette wrinkled her nose. “Just needs a needle and thread. It’ll be fine.”

  Attention was returned to her face. “Such an odd woman.”

  He gave her no chance to respond when his mouth slanted over hers. Warm, firm lips held hers for a full heartbeat before moving, coaxing hers apart. Strong hands glided up the curved length of her spine to tangle in her hair. He held her to him, melding their fronts and guiding her back into the doorframe. The strength of his body settled with a familiar, welcoming weight against hers in a way that showered her with an eruption of tingles. They worked along her skin to scatter in the pit of her stomach. Her mind spun, lost in his heady scent. A moan rippled between them and his arms tightened around her.

  He pulled back, not far, just enough to torment her with how close he still was and not close enough. Her whine was met with a delicious curve of his lips in a taunting smirk.

  “Food first. You’ll need your energy for tonight.”

  Her chest hitched with her shaky gasp. Her eyes darted up to his.

  “You’re a horrible tease,” she breathed, and earned a husky chuckle from him.

  “Just getting you ready.”

  “Sir.” Frank appeared over Killian’s shoulder, his face set in a grim line. “Forgive the interruption, but there is a matter that requires your immediate attention.”

  Killian unwound his arms from around Juliette and turned to face the other man. “What matter?”

  Frank had his phone in his hand, but he didn’t glance at it as he spoke. “There was an incident at the Triend, sir.”

  “How bad?”

  “The authorities were summoned, sir.”

  Killian exhaled. “Get Marco to bring the car around.” He didn’t wait to see Frank bow his head or leave. Killian had already turned back to Juliette. “I’m sorry.”

  Bottling back her disappointment, Juliette offered him a rueful little smile. “It’s all right. It just means you owe me doubly later.”

  That brought a chuckle to his lips that shook his shoulders. “Oh, I would expect nothing less.” His sobered, but his eyes continued to twinkle. “I might be a while.”

  She opted to leave, if for no other reason than because she didn’t want to be there with Maraveet. The very thought of the woman had anger lancing up Juliette’s spine.

  “That’s all right. I’m going to go make sure Vi’s done her homework.”

  Warm, gentle fingers brushed the contour of her cheek, scratching the skin with the rough pads. “I’d rather you stay and keep the sheets warm until I return. It would be a great incentive to hurry.”

  It was Juliette’s turn to laugh. “I’d wind up finishing on my own and turn you away.”

  Thick coils of warning snapped across the dark pools boring into her. The heat of them nipped at her skin. His hands found their way back in her hair, fisting, tugging until she was perfectly at his mercy.

  His mouth parted, his jaw set.

  “Sir.” Frank’s voice had returned and it said very clearly that it was time to go.

  Killian didn’t move. He devoured her with his eyes until there was nothing left of her but a hot, liquidy mess.

  “Do not touch her,” he warned with just enough tug of his fingers to nearly make her come on the spot. “I want to watch when you do.”

  Juliette’s knees dissolved. She slumped into him, no longer in control of her own support. The apex of her thighs throbbed with a raw vengeance that left her shamelessly desperate for even a sliver of relief.

  “God, please hurry,” she whimpered.

  He smirked the self-satisfied smirk of a cat who successfully had the bird in his grasp and no one was the wiser. He released her, but kept a secure arm about her waist as he guided her towards the front doors. Frank yanked them open and waited for them to pass.

  Most of the scorch marks from the flash grenades had been shoveled away from the house. What couldn’t be removed was being hosed and scrubbed off the frozen marble. The smoke had also cleared, she noted, glancing up at the cloudless sky. When she’d arrived, the place had resembled a warzone. Men had been shouting and running through thick plumes of black while bangs and flashes erupted all around them. Their cries were muffled by the stampede of panic as everyone tried to find their footing through the chaos.

  Jake had just pulled through the gates as another riotous bang split the frigid cold. Their wheels had shrieked to a stop as a blinding light exploded mere feet from the hood.

  “Back!” Melton had shouted, but Killian was in there.

  Juliette had lunged from the backseat. Her foot had nearly slipped out from under her as she’d thrown herself blindly through the anarchy. Tears had burned her eyes, the smoke had clawed down her throat, yet somehow, she’d found her way to the doors. Another blast had rung out behind her, shaking the ground beneath her feet. Mounds of snow had erupted nearby in an explosion of jagged ice. The blinding flash had nearly sent her backwards off the steps. But she threw herself through the open doors and straight into a circle of men she’d never seen before.

  Bulging was a lame term for men that towered seven feet into the air and could have doubled for WWF fighters. They had stood in a semi-circle around the front mat like it was perfectly normal to be there. Their eyes had bored into Juliette, surprised by her presence, but making no move to stop her.

  “Excuse me,” she’d said with all the courage she could muster.

  The seven figures had exchanged glances, silently asking the others if this was part of the plan. Juliette hadn’t waited for them to get t
heir shit together. Dodging past them, she sprinted for the stairs.

  “Hey! You can’t go up there!” one of them had shouted.

  Juliette didn’t pause. She took the steps two at a time at a neck breaking run. The thunder of feet had followed close at her heels, but she had kept running.

  In her head, Killian’s warning about putting herself at risk played in a loop. She knew he was going to be furious, but it was too late to stop now.

  Rounding the corner leading to his office, Juliette had slammed into a wall that hadn’t been there before. The momentum had flung her backwards like a rubber ball. She had nearly gone down had an actual wall not cushioned her fall with a jarring crash.

  Panting, Juliette had straightened, pushing coils of hair off her face. Behind her, the two who had been chasing her slowed to a stop. The human wall she’d collided with shifted.

  “You can’t go in there,” he’d said, folding his massive arms to emphasize.

  “Of course I’m going in there!” she gasped. “Killian’s in there. I need to see him!”

  Dark eyes had narrowed beneath thick, angry eyebrows. “You should leave.”

  Feeling cornered but determined, Juliette had planted her feet. “Where’s Frank? I’m allowed to be here.” She wasn’t certain that was true, exactly, but no one had stopped her in the past. “Where’s Killian?”

  “Busy.”

  Her gaze had shot past his enormous frame to the open doorway just beyond and calculated her chances of reaching it before she was stopped.

  She opted to go for it. Using her slenderness, she ducked past him at a run.

  “Hey!”

  A hard hand slammed down on her back. It fisted in her coat and she was tossed into the wall.

  The bastard had ripped her favorite and only coat. She didn’t feel sorry at all for him getting his lights knocked out by Killian. At the time, all she could feel was a crippling relief that Killian hadn’t been shot or worse.

  “Juliette?”

  With a sharp intake of air, Juliette blinked out of the memory and focused on the man standing so close his heat was a toasty blanket against the sharp sting of cold nipping at her cheeks and the end of her nose.

  “Sorry?”

  “I said, I will let you know when I’m done,” Killian repeated slowly.

  They had reached the SUV with a sullen faced Jake standing next to the driver’s door. He deliberately kept his face pointed straight, but she knew he was upset that she’d taken off on him. She made a mental note to apologize.

  Meanwhile, she turned to Killian. She touched the center of his chest with an ungloved hand and raised her face to his, hoping for a kiss, but not sure he’d appreciate it in front of his men.

  “Be safe and hurry back, okay?”

  His features softened. “Always.”

  With a final glance, she let Jake help her into the back of the SUV. The door was shut between them and they set off almost immediate. The last thing she saw before the vehicle passed the gates was Killian’s dark figure watching her drive away.

  The house was quiet when she made it through the front door. Most of the lights were kept off, except the one in the kitchen, but the dining room was lit, which surprised her; Javier and Laurence weren’t keen on too much activity that might suggest people actually lived in the house. It was a security issue, apparently. They kept the front of the house dark. But Javier, a short, bald man with a perpetual scowl, sat hunched over the plastic table tucked beneath the sitting room window. Several empty mugs sat in a cluster around a legal pad full of scribbles. Juliette wasn’t sure what kind of notes the two kept taking, but they watched the front of the house as though certain they would be attacked at any moment.

  He glanced up when Juliette stalked into the foyer, kicking off snow from her boots and undoing the zipper of her coat. Laurence poked his head out of the kitchen almost a split second later, a fresh mug in his hand.

  Where Javier was short and round, Laurence was tall and thin and reminded Juliette of someone who spent a great deal of time reading. All he needed was a knitted sweater vest and cargo pants.

  “Hello!” she called out as Jake and Melton stomped in after her.

  “In here!” came a voice from the dining room.

  Shrugging out of her coat, Juliette followed the voice and found Vi and Phil bent over a glass chess set. None of the pieces had been moved, but both were staring so intently at it, she half expected them to move on their own.

  “What’s going on here?” Juliette asked, dumping her purse and coat on a nearby chair.

  “I’m learning the fine art of chess,” Vi declared, never taking her eyes off the set. “I’m winning.”

  Juliette peered at the board, at the neat row of glass figures in their perfect formation. She was no expert at the game, but she was almost certain someone needed to move.

  “You are not winning,” Phil mumbled in that gruff, smoker voice.

  “Sure I am, by refusing to partake in a senseless massacre.”

  Phil sighed as though this was an argument they’d had way too many times already.

  “Don’t you huff at me!” Vi warned, narrowing her eyes at the man. “My little pawns don’t want to fight the queen’s war. If the two feel so strongly about it, they should do what normal people do and get a reality TV show where they make bad choices and fight like real women.”

  Juliette mashed her lips together to keep from laughing.

  “I think that makes me the bigger person here,” Vi finished with a definite nod.

  “Then why did you want to learn chess if you didn’t want to play?” Phil muttered, his tone barely controlled.

  “That was before you brought these little guys out.” She picked up a pawn and held it up for Juliette to see. “Look how adorable they are! How can I ever send them into war? This is Mike. He’s married to Gina and they’re expecting their first baby. Do you really want the father of her unborn child to get killed?”

  Juliette could have sworn a muscle ticked just beneath Phil’s left eye.

  “You … named them?”

  Vi blinked. “You didn’t?”

  Phil rose. “Okay, I think we’re done.”

  Vi watched with just the right amount of blank innocence to make Juliette suspect her sister was playing the poor man. Phil gathered up the pieces and gingerly set them back in their velvet box. He shut the lid and walked away with them tucked under his arm.

  Vi snickered. “He’s so fun to mess with.”

  “You’re horrible.”

  Vi’s cackles only grew. “I know.” She turned brown eyes to Juliette. “How was your trip to the Big House?”

  Juliette shrugged. “It was … crazy.”

  In less time than it took to actually experience the whole thing, she rehashed the whole day’s event to the girl, leaving nothing out—except the part about Killian’s promise to hurry back so they could finish what he’d started. She didn’t think Vi would want to hear that part.

  “Wow, the sister is a grade A twat canoe.”

  “Viola!”

  Vi, unfazed, gave a delicate shrug. “You were thinking it.”

  She couldn’t deny that. She had been thinking it, not so much in those words, but close.

  Casting her sister a disapproving frown anyway, she started for the door. “Any ideas on supper?”

  “God, anything but chicken casserole,” Vi groaned. “I swear, I will run away from home.”

  While Juliette didn’t say as much, she had to agree. It was kind of Mrs. Tompkins to take the time to prepare them supper every night for the last three years, but that was three years of chicken casseroles. She was fairly certain it wasn’t healthy to eat that much chicken. Occasionally, it was tuna or pasta, but if Mrs. Tompkins could get her hands on chicken, it was made into chicken casserole. But, in all fairness, Mrs. Tompkins was the only one who knew how to cook. It was part of their agreement since Juliette didn’t charge her for rent and she would only be cooking for Vi t
he majority of the time. But even she had gotten tired of the dish.

  Mrs. Tompkins was in the kitchen when Juliette walked in. All her usual items were laid out across the counter and she was humming softly as she got ready to start.

  “Hello Mrs. Tompkins.” Juliette offered her a smile.

  “Hello dear, how was your day?”

  Juliette nodded. “It was fine. Thank you.” She watched as the woman began reaching for the knife. “Mrs. Tompkins, why don’t you let me handle supper tonight?”

  That got her the expected response—confusion.

  “You, dear?”

  The bemuse pulling all the folds on the woman’s face together was insulting.

  “Well…” Juliette had no response.

  She was saved when Vi skipped into the room, followed almost immediately by Phil; the man certainly took his job seriously, Juliette thought. Even Jake and Melton didn’t follow her around that religiously.

  “What’s for supper?” Vi asked.

  Juliette turned to her. “I was just telling Mrs. Tompkins to take the night off while I cooked something.”

  Vi’s expression did the exact same wrinkle of confusion that was further insult to injury when she cocked her head to the side and regarded Juliette like she’d inexplicably begun singing in German.

  “All right then, Miss Smarty-Pants, what do you suggest?”

  “Grilled cheese,” she decided. “I’ll handle the actual cooking, but you can butter the bread.”

  Mrs. Tompkins, who’d been watching the scene unfold, stepped aside as Vi marched to the cupboard and freed three loaves of bread. Juliette grabbed the butter and cheese from the cupboard and everything was dumped on the already cluttered island. As one, as though reading the other’s mind, they cleaned away Mrs. Tompkins’ss near attempt at chicken casserole.