by A. C. Arthur
“Look, there’s another one,” Lolo yelled in her ear when she was still staring at Perry. She looked to her left, to the street where another black SUV was completing a quick U-turn, tires screeching. In seconds there were more men filing out of the Reynolds Building, all of them built like super-soldiers, moving quickly to create some type of formation surrounding the parked SUV. At the door stood four men, covering the entrance, each of them holding big black guns down at their sides. Another one came up behind Perry, touching a shoulder to his arm. Perry didn’t move, didn’t even turn in the other man’s direction, but kept staring at Priya.
Lolo continued to pull her, but she never turned around. She did the backward walk thing while keeping her gaze locked on Perry. To her surprise and stroking her female ego slightly, he held her gaze as well. Even when he finally did move to the truck, he kept staring at her before mouthing the words, “This is not a game” once more.
* * *
Bas thought about her while he was on the plane. Staring out the window to the soft white stretch of clouds he let his mind drift. To her.
He had seen many women before, had even slept with his fair share, but none had ever been human. Not since Mariah. And none had ever been one bit like Priya Drake. She was sassy and bold and brash and clever and absolutely clueless to what would happen if she pursued this story. Rubbing a hand over his chin, Bas thought of how many times he’d considered letting Jace and Cole go ahead to the airport and going back to her apartment. He would tell her again to stay away from Rome and anything that involved him. He’d wanted to tell her to be safe, to keep living her life the way she had been before that night in the alley behind that club. But somehow he knew she wouldn’t be able to do that. He’d sensed that urgency last night at the hotel and again earlier today on the street. This was something she had to do, he only wondered why.
Then Bas willed himself to stop wondering. It wasn’t his concern, she wasn’t his concern. She couldn’t be and to some that might be a shame. To him, it was his life, his world, the one he’d decided to live in after Mariah’s brutal murder, the only one that allowed him any semblance of peace.
If Priya Drake didn’t have the sense to heed his warnings, then so be it. Rome would deal with whatever came next where the tenacious reporter was concerned. He was the head of the Stateside Assembly for a reason. And Bas, well, he had enough to deal with when he returned home—a shipment of drugs to possibly intercept and the carriers to question. He did not have time to wonder about a female, about what it might have been like to sink his length into her warm flesh, to feel her clutching him tightly, whispering his name, needing him on a level he’d never thought possible.
And that was for the best, he reminded himself. Shifters remaining separate, but still a part, of the human world had long since been a goal of the Assembly. There was no way he would ever go against that.
Not even for her.
Chapter 6
Sedona, Arizona
Midday
Bas was finally home.
Half an hour ago Jacques Germain, Bas’s Lead Enforcer, had been at the private strip of land Bas had designated as shifter airspace, to pick him up. The jet was making its next-to-last stop before heading back to the East Coast to await Rome’s next instruction. Jace would be dropped off last and then all the FLs would be back in their zones, back on the job of keeping the rogues at bay and protecting the humans from the danger that lurked just beyond the shadows.
The airspace was completely off the grid so the FAA had no way of tracking their jets to or from their destination. Just as below the basement floors of Perryville Resorts was yet another twenty-five feet dug into the earth, where the shifter labs and surveillance spaces where kept. The walls of the U-shaped bunker were lined with layer upon layer of reinforced steel and guarded by some of the most high-tech security equipment ever invented. Bas had consulted with Nick on most of the layout and what would be needed to keep the fortress both stable and secure. X had given his input on the technology and the general warfare. Should, for whatever reason, their security somehow become breached, it was Bas’s territory. He had teams of shifters designated by achievement levels in combat, lower levels—the yellow team—that did perimeter checks, and higher levels—the blue team—that worked discreetly among the citizens of Sedona. Bas’s years as a Marine had provided the combat skills required to train hundreds of shifters to protect and safeguard their secret as well as their people. His college years had given him the education and sophistication he needed to rub elbows with the rich and elite of America. The fact that he was a shifter had given him the solid footing he needed to stay sane among everything else.
Sanity was exactly what Bas was thinking of as he climbed into the back of the mocha-and-steel Yukon Jacques drove. Behind the Yukon were four silver Jeep Wranglers—the official vehicle of the guards that had been redesigned and fitted with top-notch technology and warfare on Nick’s orders. All the FLs traveled with what Bas considered a small army even though Sabar Tavares had been confirmed dead. The shifters knew Sabar had not worked alone. His known partner in crime, Darel Charles had not been seen or heard from since that night, so they had to consider that the rogue threat was still alive and possibly planning another attack. But for the moment Bas’s attention needed to remain focused on the incoming shipment he would need to intercept.
“Nick sent me the e-mail,” Jacques reported through the intercom link they all wore tucked discreetly into their ears and activated by small chips embedded in the collar of their shirts.
“Good. I want a blue team in place and ready to roll with me tonight,” Bas instructed while looking through the truck’s tinted windows.
He gazed at the familiar roads, winding around the side of the mountain, traveling low into the valley where he’d built his masterpiece. Perryville Resorts Sedona was located near the secluded Boynton Canyon, sitting on more than eighty acres of natural terrain. Its structure was surrounded by red-rock buttes known for inspiring the mind, body, and spirit. This was the reason Bas stayed here year-round. While each of his resorts had a special place in his heart, a unique something that had drawn him to the locale, this one was his baby. From the moment he’d opened his first resort he knew he’d end up here. His plan was to expand Perryville until it touched every exotic locale in the world, but here, where he could stand on the balcony to his penthouse suite and look at the magnificent orange-and-fuchsia swirls in the sky as the sun set over the beautiful red rocks, was where he belonged.
“The team’s already in place. I’ve scheduled a debriefing in an hour,” Jacques continued.
Bas lifted an arm and glanced at his TAG Heuer Monaco to check the time. An hour would give him just enough time to shower and change clothes and to do a little more research before heading out.
“That’s fine. Have Jewel bring all the mail from my office to my room and get me maps and blueprints to the buildings we’ll be going to tonight,” he told the shifter.
If there was a shipment coming in and they were going to intercept it, he wanted to know exactly where they were going and how they could get out quickly if need be. Because there was a good chance they could be walking into an ambush tonight. A damned good chance.
* * *
The minute the SUV drove slowly through the ten-foot gates linked together by the splitting halves of the Perryville Sedona logo, Bas rolled down the window. He inhaled the still and sultry Arizona air and felt strands of tension releasing slowly from his shoulder blades. It was like that here—for him, even the dry heat was a comfort, possibly giving him a taste of the Gungi on a daily basis. He stepped out of the truck the moment it stopped, ignoring the click of his loafers as he walked across the stone-tile driveway.
The front doors of the resort were glass, the logo that had been promised to brand his resorts throughout the world boldly displayed in gold swirls above the entrance. Inside the floors were marbled, leading to the granite-topped front desk.
With
a nod of his head to his staff Bas headed toward the private elevators that were located past La Selva, the resort’s signature restaurant, which featured an intricate mix of Spanish and Southwestern dishes, complete with its own wine bar and around the corner from Alma, the resort’s spa that used Native American techniques to cater to the mind, body, and soul.
He pressed the button for himself, feeling the presence of Jacques to his right and two other guards to his left. No doubt there was another guard taking the service elevator up to his penthouse right now to sweep the premises before Bas arrived. When he finally made it up to his suite Bas immediately moved to the desk that sat in the far corner of the room to switch on his laptop.
His footsteps were quiet as he walked across the mahogany-colored carpet to the bar where he fixed himself a quick glass of wine while his computer booted. That’s when he caught her scent. Perfume, a very generic brand, something soft, just a tad floral and most likely meant to be enticing. But she wore too much. There was a secondary scent, one Bas was sure no human would ever detect. But since he wasn’t human, he’d lifted the aroma the moment they’d first met. The tangy, citrus smell of fear comingled with the floral perfume, creating a powerful mixture that often tickled Bas’s nose in an annoying fashion. Then again, she very rarely spent long periods of time in his presence so there was never enough of it to annoy him. Still, he’d known it was there, the fear she carried with her like a cloak. And he’d wondered about it, but never asked. She was a human female and she worked for him, two reasons for Bas to always keep his distance. She was also a female in trouble, an even bigger reason for him to keep her close.
“Your mail, sir,” Jewel announced in her quiet voice as she set the mail down on the corner of the mantel.
She faced him then and Bas stared into now familiar, but still a bit out of place brilliant green eyes and hair that fell to her shoulders in tight, fiery red curls. Her skin was tanned, couldn’t help but be otherwise living out here, but the hair and eyes had never matched for Bas. Instinctively, he’d known they were the result of contact lenses and hair dye, but he’d never asked her why. The fact that she was afraid of something was all he’d needed to offer her a job and shelter. His need to protect the female had been strong from the start and even when he was away it didn’t falter.
“Thanks, Jewel. How’ve you been?” he asked in the cordial manner he always spoke to her. There was nothing between them, no sexual desire and no intention to go beyond the employer and employee relationship, so unlike what Bas had felt with the other human female he’d just met.
“I’m well, thank you. How was your trip?” She spoke clearly and politely, always.
“Both pleasant and disturbing but isn’t that the way of the world?” he replied, flipping through the mail he’d picked up.
She smiled at him. “I guess so.”
Jewel never talked much. She answered him respectfully but never offered more than was required. Because this wasn’t new and he had other things to do, Bas hurried to dismiss her. “Well, thanks for bringing me the mail. I’m going to catch up on some things in here and will be down in the conference room around nine thirty. Tell Mrs. Ramirez I’ll take a late dinner down there.”
Jewel nodded and left the room as quietly as she’d entered. She would go directly to the kitchen where Maria Ramirez, his kitchen manager, could usually be found and deliver his message. Jewel was a good worker, which was another reason Bas had allowed her to stay at Perryville for the last few years.
He finished his glass of wine, which was excellent, a new blend he’d secured from two of Jace’s actor clients who had taken the plunge into the winery business. He’d have to remember to send Jace an e-mail telling him how flavorful the wine was and order more. Bas undressed, then moved into the bathroom, opening the glass doors and stepping inside the marble-tiled shower beneath a cascade of hot water.
The hot spray slapped blissfully against his skin as he first moved so that it drenched his front and then his back. Flattening his palms on the tiles just beneath the shower head Bas stretched, elongating each vertebra along his spine. Inside there was more movement, more stretching and pushing, a low growl rolling through his chest.
It wanted out. The beast within wanted to run, it wanted to stretch and be free. Most of all, it wanted to fuck.
Inhaling deeply, searching for calm, for steady breathing, steady thoughts, Bas fought the hunger. It had been growing impatient these last few months, stalking him like a hunter, reminding him that regardless of the choice he’d made to live this solitary lifestyle, it yearned for something much more. Shaking his head, Bas denied it, again. His jaw clenched so tightly the rattling of his teeth echoed throughout the shower stall.
He could not have her. There was no question about that. If it were just a woman, the hard drive of a blatant carnal connection, then he could find someone and slake the burning need.
Searing pain streaked through his chest but Bas did not growl, he did not yell out in agony, because he was in charge. Not the cat, never the cat, he promised himself. The cat hadn’t yelled this loud to save Mariah, it hadn’t ripped through the human skin to save the innocent human whose only mistake had been falling for him and following him to a dangerous and unknown place even after he’d declared their relationship finished. It hadn’t torn those other shifters to shreds to protect her the way it should have. So he’d be damned if he’d listen to the inner roaring now.
Priya Drake was off-limits and that was that.
Yanking his hands from the tiles and grabbing the soap, he proceeded with another thought, ignoring the movement, the hissing, the agitation as if it were nothing more than a nuisance that would hopefully go away. Switching off the spray of water when he’d finished he stepped out into the cooler room and prepared to dress, to make contact with the East Coast guards to ensure that the near-confrontation just as they’d stepped out of Rome’s office building had been resolved.
Abruptly he stopped before pulling on his boxer briefs. His dick was so hard as to make the task uncomfortable, if not almost painful. Bas sighed, gripping his length in one palm and jerking so hard he half expected his release to come shooting out instantaneously. Then his memory betrayed him, her scent filtering through his nostrils as if she were standing directly in front of him. When he closed his eyes in exasperation it was only to find that she was there. In his mind he could see her face, see the alluring curve of her chin, the soft mound of her cheekbones, the length of her eyelashes. Her compact body wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt as if they were custom-made.
He’d touched her. Bas growled, his hand growing tighter around his dick, teeth clenching once more.
No man could touch her. No other man could have her, could not fuck her. Because she was his.
“No,” Bas hissed. “No.”
His hand moved of its own accord, jerking upward until the bulbous head burned with impending release. Sliding down his shaft and up roughly once more he cursed and cursed some more, until release finally came in rushing jets of white dripping to the floor so loudly his eyes shot open even as his head lulled back.
“No. Not her,” he said on a hampered breath. “Not her.”
Chapter 7
Sedona, Arizona
Evening
This is not a game.
That’s what he’d told her, even though she’d been fully aware of those facts from the first e-mail she’d received. This wasn’t a game, and whoever it was that wanted her to uncover this secret Reynolds and his friends were harboring, were doing a damn good job of hammering that fact home. Right to Priya’s doorstep, to the heart of who she was, to be exact.
This morning she’d walked up the familiar cracked steps to her mother’s house, becoming instantly overwhelmed with all the memories that lived beyond that front door. Using her key she’d gone inside, walking through the vestibule, inhaling the scent of stale cigarette smoke and old grease. Her mother would be in the kitchen, no doubt, sitting at the old Fo
rmica table with its only two surviving chairs, across from the cracked counter that held the nineteen-inch television Priya had bought her two Christmases ago. She would be dressed in her robe, cotton and frayed at the collar and her hair, which she’d long ago cut short would be slicked down to her scalp with some gel concoction she was fond of. In one shaking, bony hand would be her ever-present cigarette, while her ankles crossed beneath the table, shaking as well.
“Mornin’, Mama,” she’d said.
“Hey there, you got my medicine?”
“Of course,” Priya replied, putting the bag from the drugstore on the table within her grasp.
She went to the refrigerator, opened it, and unpacked the other bags she’d brought with her, the ones with the milk, eggs, butter, and Cap’n Crunch cereal her mother loved.
“I don’t know where Malik is,” Karen had said while Priya’s back was still turned to her. “He never usually stays away this long.”
Priya stilled. No, her older brother Malik never stayed away for weeks because in a matter of days he’d run through whatever money he’d been able to scrape up, getting high with all the drugs he’d been able to find. He always came back to Karen’s though, because she always let him in. She cooked for him, and washed his clothes, and even gave him what pennies she had left out of her monthly check so that he could go right back out into the streets. Closing her eyes, Priya tried not to think about the endless circle of their lives. She tried not to think about the father who had walked out on them, thrusting Karen into the endless pit of depression and self-loathing that had created such a loving home for her to grow up in. At one point she almost covered her ears as she thought she could still hear Levi Drake’s yelling and cursing as he beat Karen and Malik like they were rodents on the street. Priya and her sisters had escaped those beatings only because they stayed away from Levi and his deadly temper, out of his reach and sight as much as they possibly could. Malik had always protected Karen, always jumped in Levi’s face whenever he struck her. One day all that violence ceased because Levi was gone, the no-good bastard.