“Sure, you got it.”
Look at us, chatting away like old friends, I thought. A game between us, which meant he was still suspicious of who was watching him and when. That he was still alive had been a gamble. The last I’d seen of him, Barron had been working for Romano, Mancini, and Killian Fannin, the pain in the ass Irish gangster trying to revive the old-school power of the Irish abnormal gangs. Fannin currently was costing Romano money by undercutting him in the various skeevy trade deals they ran. Which made me like him more, even though he claimed connections to the fae. But that was a load of horseshit as far as I was concerned. His cause was a lost one, despite what his current success at irritating Romano looked like. Still, I gave Killian credit for not only being stubborn, but for being a shot of shit in Romano’s morning cereal.
For that alone, I would root for him.
Barron, juggling the three powerhouse men, had been a stupid thing, but profitable. He claimed he didn’t help one of them over the other, that all had equal access to the same arsenals, etc.
I made sure of it when I’d asked him to help me get away from Romano, telling Barron the darkest side of my family to secure his help. I’d begged, I’d thrown myself at him . . . and it had worked.
Barron had wiped away any record of my existence and helped me create a new name, a new life, a new world that I’d run to as fast as I could.
I followed him through the main part of the house, taking in the high ceilings and gaudy artwork. Nothing had changed.
“Sorry for the mess. The housekeeper won’t be here until later.” He looked over his shoulder. “You look good. What are you going by now?”
I tipped my head. “Nix is just fine.” I paused. “No wife yet?” I asked.
He snorted. “Nah. Women are trouble. You know that.”
“They are,” I murmured as I stepped into his kitchen. As massive as the rest of the house, it held a certain warmth the other rooms lacked. Barron made me tea and poured himself a cup of coffee, all while saying nothing.
And yet it told me a great deal. He was being watched everywhere, and he knew it. Which meant we needed a safe place to talk.
“You want to come downstairs with me? I still have the lingerie you like.” He smiled over the rim of his coffee cup, a dimple appearing in one cheek. Yeah, he was still a little swoon-worthy. His eyes were kind, and that had been the draw then. I’d met very few kind men in my life, and Barron had been the first.
Justin had been the second, even if he’d turned out to be a con artist.
I took a sip of my tea, grimaced and added another teaspoon of sugar. “Sure, I haven’t had a romp in a while.”
Again, I followed him. A game for anyone watching. We weren’t being exactly subtle, but in our world, women rarely were. It was fuck or be fucked.
From the kitchen, he led me downstairs, past a big open room with a TV and multiple gaming systems set up.
“Still with the games.” I wasn’t questioning him, just surprised. I’d run away and grown up, he’d stayed behind and remained being a kid.
An uncomfortable twitch started in my heart region. I’d asked Barron to come with me, and he said he would, until the morning after. That had been the last time I’d fallen for a man’s line about loving me.
I blinked at the sudden prickle in my eyes. Not for Barron. But for Justin . . . I’d believed his lies too. I clenched my mug and forced the emotions down. No place for them in my life right now.
Maybe not ever again.
Barron went to a steel door with a punch code beside it. He fired in some numbers, then pressed his thumb to a black pad. The square beeped green twice, then the steel door opened. I kept close to Barron knowing—
The door slammed hard behind me, the edge of it brushing against the back of my shirt. The room was as it had always been. Walls covered in a variety of equipment, shelving units filled to bursting, cables, computers; everything in here was black, white, silver and glimmered of red. One wall was dedicated to magic and the aura around that shelving unit all but buzzed with electricity even though the panels on it were closed.
Well organized, but loaded literally to the ceiling. Barron was the kind of thief who could waltz into a bank and walk out without a single camera catching him on it, without a single clue, without the vault even looking like it had been tampered with. He was one of the best.
He’d joked once that Fort Knox would have been a cake walk, but what would you do with all those gold bars?
My eyes swept the room, looking for anyone else. We were alone.
Barron took a couple of steps, set his coffee down, and spun back to me. I braced myself until I saw his intent, and then I relaxed. He tucked a hand behind the back of my head and pulled my mouth to his. The kiss was only mildly unexpected but I let him do it, maybe I even wanted it a little, maybe I even kissed him back. It had been almost four months since I’d had any sort of physical contact with someone I cared about. No . . . I did not care about Barron. That was in the past. As was so much. He drew his lips from mine, but didn’t pull further away. He pressed his forehead against mine, his hands cupping my face.
“Girl . . . I never thought I’d see you again.”
I laughed and pushed him away, not hard enough to make him stumble, just enough to give me room. “You didn’t want to come with me. That was years ago. And I’m hardly a girl anymore.”
“I never stopped thinking about you. Wondering if you were alive.” His eyes were wide and I knew him well enough to know he was telling the truth. A good thief he was, a good liar he was not.
A bad combination all around.
I shrugged. “I’m back now. And I have a grocery list.” I handed him the sheet of paper that Simon had filled out. Most of it had been his suggestions.
Barron looked it over. “Yeah, I’ve got it all. Looks like a big hit. You back working for your dad?”
I shook my head. The less he knew, the better for both of us. “Freelancing.”
He barked a laugh. “Your father okay with that?”
I smiled and shrugged.
Barron’s laugh died slowly. “Phoenix—Nix—what is going on? You swore you’d never come back.”
“Stop stalling, Barron. I have the money.” I pulled my backpack around.
“I’m sure you do. I have a few things I think you’d like to add to this too.” He sat at his computer. “Some excellent new material. It’s a type of spider silk created by the Yakuza. Done all in black, stronger than Kevlar.” He tapped a few keys and then leaned back for me to look over his shoulder.
The material was black with the faintest of shine to it. “How do you stitch it then?”
“Magic.” He winked at me. “You want it, don’t you?”
“Hell, yeah.” I breathed the words out. Stronger than Kevlar, and lightweight, and all in my favorite color. “A full suit?”
“You got it. Will take some time and it’ll be costly.” He pushed me back, leaned over the keyboard and his fingers flew across it.
“I’ve got cash. Not with me, but I’ve got it.”
He grinned and ran a finger under my chin. “Measurements?”
I fired the numbers off. “5’9”, 140 lbs, 36, 25, 35, inseam is 34.”
“Damn.” His eyes flicked to me and away again. I didn’t move a muscle.
A few minutes later he nodded. “Done. Now to the rest of it. I need to know who you are going after to make sure it’s not my boss.”
I frowned and took a step back. “You’ve decided to work for only one guy?”
The flicker in his eyes told me everything. I couldn’t help the surprise from skittering across my face.
“Who did you sell out to, Barron?”
He grabbed an office chair and sat down heavily. “It was that or get killed. Things changed fast after you left. Your dad hired thugs to do his work and they were sloppy, getting caught and killed, or tossed in jail. Mr. Mancini didn’t seem to care what was going on as long as he got his paychecks e
very month and . . .”
“Killian then?” I put my mug on a side counter.
Barron gave a short nod. “Yes. He’s come up in the ranks fast, building an empire that is putting pressure on the old boys. Whatever magic he’s dabbling in, it’s working for him.”
“He didn’t seem more than a thorn in their sides before.” I found a chair and pulled it up.
“True, but the thing is, he’s hungry for it. He’s our age, and he wants . . . well, it doesn’t matter what he wants.” Barron shook his head. “He’s . . .”
He trailed off as he turned toward a row of security monitors. “Shit, speak of the Irish devil.”
I stood and leaned over his shoulder, pressing my chest against his back a little. Reminding him that he’d wanted me once, and that he still did. He slung a hand backward, finding my upper thigh and giving it a squeeze.
“I have to meet with him,” he said.
“I want to meet him, too. If he’s in as far as you say, I might be able to use his help,” I said.
Barron startled. “You think that’s a good idea?”
I stared hard at the monitor as Killian Fannin let himself into Barron’s house as though he owned the place. Maybe he did.
“Yes. Romano hates him. I hate Romano.”
Barron shook his head but I was already turning away to the door. “I will still need that list of things. Barron, get them together and I will greet Mr. Fannin.”
“Phoenix—”
“Trust me.” I looked over my shoulder. Slowly, he nodded.
“Okay, just . . . play nice. He’s smarter than he lets on.”
He hit a button and the steel door slid open. I stepped out and headed toward the kitchen. No wonder Barron had signed on with Killian. My ex-lover had apparently no business sense when it came to the dark side.
There would be no way a Romano would have let someone he was working with go and greet someone he thought of as an employer. Barron was showing just how low on the ladder he was by letting me greet Killian on my own.
I kept my mug in one hand and did a quick check over Dinah and Eleanor before I stepped into the kitchen. “Girls?”
“Ready,” they spoke in tandem.
Footsteps echoed through the house.
“Barron, where you be, lad?”
Lad. Like Killian was that much older than Barron. I snorted.
“He be busy, lad,” I called out. “Sent me to welcome you to his humble home.”
The footsteps slowed and the audible click of weapons being drawn and cocked slid through the air. A hint of ozone and coffee floated on the air and a few sparkles danced around me.
Sparkles that looked suspiciously like tiny fairies.
I stared at them, letting the darkness in me swell. They squealed and shot away at rapid speed.
I sat at the kitchen table, leaned my chair back and set my boots on the glass top. Mug still cupped in my hands. Who sent fairies to check things out for you? If I’d been so inclined I could have smashed them flat. Apparently the connection to the fae was not so full of horseshit as I’d thought.
Two men swept into the kitchen first, ahead of Killian. Dressed in jeans and leather jackets, their heads were covered with caps from the local ball team. More than that, I focused on their weapons. The guns were up and trained on me right away, steady. Both carried Smith and Wesson. Not terribly original, but they’d do the job, and I had no doubt the two men would pull the trigger if they thought I was a threat. I smiled at them over the rim of my mug. “Hello, lads.”
They didn’t smile or respond. I looked past them to Killian as he walked into the room.
This was my first up-close and personal interaction with the man, though I’d known of him for years. The aura around him crackled and danced. Abnormal through and through; the only question was, what kind?
Taller than me, he cut an imposing figure and stood easily over six feet. Where Barron had let his fitness regime go, Killian looked as though he’d not only kept at one, but increased it regularly. Muscles slid under his almost too-tight clothes, showing off every cut angle of his physique.
His dark brown hair was slicked back, and as he pulled off sunglasses, green eyes flicked over me. Dismissing me as just another woman. I was about to change that.
“Your pictures don’t do you justice,” I said and took a sip of my now-cold tea. This was all about appearances, though.
Killian pursed his lips. “Where is Barron?”
I slowly placed the mug on the table. “In his room downstairs. He was naughty and needed a time out.”
Killian arched an eyebrow and his lips twitched as though he would like to smile at the innuendo. What I knew of him was that he had a wicked temper, but also a ridiculous sense of humor.
I shrugged. “You know how it is, you don’t see someone for years and years, and then when you show up on their doorstep, you have to remind them of their place.”
“And what does his place be with you?” The Irish accent was light enough that the words held a soft burr.
I raised an eyebrow. “No guesses? I heard you liked games, Killian.”
Killian waved a hand and the two thugs with him lowered their weapons. “Depends on the game, lass.”
“Ah, lass, that’s the nicest thing I’ve been called lately.” I leaned back a little further in my chair. “Let me make this simple for you. I believe we have a common enemy.”
He stepped around the island in the center of the kitchen, and leaned back on it. Mimicking me. Trying to put me at ease with psychological games. I looked around the room as though I wasn’t worried about him at all. Waiting for him to ask.
Finally, he broke. “What enemy would that be?”
I ran a hand through my hair and looked back to him. “Romano.”
One of the thugs grunted as though I’d hit him, but otherwise there was nothing from the three men. That is if I discounted the sharpening of one pair of very green eyes.
From the kitchen entrance, Barron cleared his throat. “Killian, meet Nix.”
I stood slowly, unfolding from the chair. Hell, I even held my hand out to him. An offering of peace. “You might know me better as Phoenix.”
Barron groaned softly. But he didn’t know how this was played. He didn’t understand.
Three guns were up in a flash, and the aura round Killian brightened, but I didn’t move, didn’t withdraw my hand an inch.
“You are a royal pain in Romano’s ass, Killian. And that means I like you. If I’d wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing now.” I smiled at him.
Barron groaned again. “Please, Nix, don’t pick a fight.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Killian, Barron does not understand this world, even now after all these years. But you and I do.”
Killian took several swift steps toward me, his gun trained on my face as he pushed me back until I was against the wall, his palm flat between my breasts, hot and angry, prickles of energy flying from him to me.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you? Why shouldn’t I use you as bait for your father? You’ll be worth something to him.”
I kept my eyes on his. “Because I’m going after him. Because I’m about to make your job to take your place in the hierarchy of the underworld much easier. Because he wants me dead as much as he wants you dead. Because he deserves to suffer.”
He frowned. “Why would you kill him?”
I wasn’t sure Killian would care that my son had lost his life. These kinds of men rarely did. But they understood power and possession.
“He took something very valuable from me.”
“Enough to make you kill your own father? Your brothers will just take over the Romano holdings.”
I didn’t blink. “I’m taking everything from him, Killian. Every fucking last thing.”
He stepped back, the heat from his hand still imprinted on me through my shirt. “And you want my help.”
I burst out laughing. “Not really. Just stay out of my way. I’m s
ure I’ll see you and yours around, and if you see me,” I shrugged, “you know where I stand.”
Killian lowered his gun and looked back to a pale-faced Barron. “You trust her?”
“If she gives you her word, she’ll hold to it. She isn’t like him.” Barron clutched the edge of the counter. I had a sudden image of him flat out on the floor, pale, lying in a pool of his own blood. That it hadn’t happened already was a damn miracle.
But it was coming for him one day.
Killian tucked his gun away and held out his hand. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of your way.”
I nodded. “Done.”
His hand tightened over mine and his muscles tensed. I braced for the pull.
He yanked me hard toward him so we were literally nose to nose. A powerful intimidation tactic, if it worked. Not so much on me. The air between us was hot and made my skin itch. He was doing something with his magic, and I didn’t like it but I held still.
Killian stared down at me, his jaw ticking. “Lass, you be treading dangerous waters. This is not the same ocean you swam in before.”
I smiled up at him. “You’re right. Then I was a fish on a hook, trapped. Now I’m one of the sharks and I have a set of teeth that will gut any man in my way.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Killian and I stood in Barron’s kitchen, measuring each other for another five seconds. Five seconds that felt like an hour. The intensity between us crackled and before I could catch the words, they were out of my mouth.
“I bet you’re fun in the sack.”
His eyes went wide and he stepped back from me. “That an offer?”
“Not at all.” I shook my head. “I’d never actually bed an abnormal. Just making an observation.” One that also made it so he let me go. Too close, that had been too close for my comfort.
I’d both complimented and insulted Killian in two sentences. Dangerous ground indeed.
“You got my stuff ready?” I looked past him to Barron who was as pale as before.
He nodded. “At the front door. Along with your empty bag.”
He’d taken all my cash. “Nothing left for my cab ride home? You are a greedy prick, aren’t you?”
Fury of a Phoenix (The Nix Series Book 1) Page 23