I couldn’t look away, even when I saw Rocky hit the ground with a loud thump. Screams pierced the night as a crowd gathered in the courtyard around the body.
I was too late. I couldn’t save him.
“I tried,” Jonathan said. “I tried to hold him. He ran up here, so fast, slipped on the edge and I grabbed him. I thought I could...I thought...”
His kind eyes were filled with sadness.
“He wasn’t a good person,” I said, and sat beside Jonathan. “And you did everything you could.”
“I really thought I could save him,” Jonathan said. Tears glistened at the corners of his eyes.
“I know,” I said. “It’s okay.”
It was too bad about Rocky dying. I tried to tell myself what I’d told Jonathan. He wasn’t a good person.
That hadn’t meant he needed to die, though. Because what was it Jonathan told me? It was our actions that made us the kind of men we were. And Rocky had made some bad choices, but now his life was over and he couldn’t ever make different choices.
I rubbed my throat, which felt tight and uncomfortable. It should have ended some other way, but at least it was over. We had the dagger and we’d return it so Pellets wouldn’t smear Whitesong. Then we could say goodbye to Pellets forever.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Taylor
Quentin brought over the frying pan and slid a generous helping of scrambled eggs onto my plate.
I held up my coffee mug in a “cheers” gesture.
“Where’s our gargantuan compatriot?” Quentin asked.
I mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. “Sleeping in, probably. He seemed pretty wrecked last night.”
As if on cue, Slade came out of his bedroom and collapsed into one of the chairs. He wasn’t a coffee drinker, generally, but he eyed my mug with such furtive desire that I laughed and slid it across the table. He took a sip, coughed and made a face, then took another sip.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked him.
He shook his head.
“Slade,” Quentin said, “at the breakfast table, people often wear all of their clothes.”
Slade looked down at his naked torso and the basketball shorts he was wearing. “I’ve got my dick covered, at least.”
Quentin shook his head, but he added some eggs to Slade’s plate before sliding some onto his own.
“How are you faring?” Quentin asked Slade.
“Okay. I didn’t like that Rocksoff died, but even worse, that maintenance dude seemed really upset. It’s not easy the first time you watch someone die.”
I wondered how many men Slade had seen fall in the line of duty. I gave him a nod of respect before shoveling more eggs into my mouth.
“Do we have anything going on today?” Slade asked.
“Not that I know of,” I said. “Ariana has been talking about meeting with Bellpowder, so I was going to run up some plans for that. But otherwise, it’s a slow day.”
A soft knock sounded on the door. I was closest, so I jumped up to answer it. Even before I pulled it open, I could smell apples and aether. I had a split second to wonder if I would ever reach the point where I took her beautiful scent for granted, and then she was standing before me.
“Just in time for breakfast,” I said with a smile.
She grinned back, looking lovely but exhausted in her form-fitting navy and cream dress. We’d all been up too late last night, running through the accident on the roof with local law enforcement. Everything was straightforward, but we’d each needed to give a statement because Whitesong was involved in apprehending, and ultimately losing, Rocksoff.
I pressed a kiss against Ariana’s cheek and tugged her gently into the room. She waved at the guys. “Every time I come in here,” she said, “you’re not wearing a shirt, Slade.”
He shrugged. “I’m hot.”
“I guess that’s true,” she said with a smirk.
“Would you like some eggs?” Quentin asked.
“No, I’m actually on my way out,” she said, “but I wanted to check in with you guys. See how you’re doing after everything last night.” Her gaze flicked over to Slade before taking us in as a whole.
“We’re okay,” Slade mumbled. “A little sad.”
“That’s understandable,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder.
“Where are you off to?” I asked.
“Pelletier’s.” She scowled in irritation. “After all this, I still need to return the dagger.”
“Do you think he’ll fork over the other half of our money?” I asked.
“Not a chance,” she said. “But if we return this, he’ll have less of a reason to tell people we did a bad job. At least we’re being thorough.”
“Then in the interest of thoroughness, I’ll go with you,” I said. “We all will.”
“I was hoping to go right away,” she said, “and you guys don’t look ready.” She eyed my rumpled t-shirt and jeans, and Slade’s basketball shorts and bare chest. Only Quentin looked moderately respectable in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, although he had a plate full of eggs in front of him. As I watched, he picked up the plate and shoveled at least three bites into his mouth at once.
“I’m ready now,” Quentin said.
“Right on,” Slade said, offering him a fist bump.
Ariana’s nose wrinkled, like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be disgusted.
“Don’t leave without me,” Slade said, rushing into his room. He came back seconds later in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt halfway on.
I swallowed my last fork-full of eggs and stood. “I’m ready, too.”
Ariana drove the Cayenne and I sat in the front with her. She shot a couple of concerned glances into the mirror, checking out Slade in the back seat.
“He’ll be okay,” I told her.
She reached for my hand. “I believe it. But I hate that he’s hurting. He took this rather hard.”
We were all quiet for the remainder of the drive, and on the ferry over to the Brightwater.
After we’d landed and driven up to the big house, Ariana parked at the fountain. Slade scowled at the water shooting from the uterus-shaped bowl as if its existence was a personal affront.
Quentin took a canvas bag from the back of the SUV and handed it to Ariana. We started up the walk toward the giant building, and I couldn’t help but feel like we’d come full circle. I was glad to put this place behind me.
We hadn’t made it halfway up the walk before the door blasted open. Pelletier himself—not a maid, not a butler, not any form of “help”—blustered out like a dust devil formed of too-strong cologne.
“What—what is the meaning of this?” he demanded. His dark hair stuck out on one side, and his hooded eyes squinted at us with distrust.
Ariana didn’t give any outward indication that this guy annoyed the hell out of her, except for a slight straightening of her shoulders.
Me, I wanted to turn him upside down and sweep the gravel driveway with his face. From Quentin’s and Slade’s expressions, they felt about the same.
Reaching into the canvas bag draped over her shoulder, Ariana said, “We have something to return to you.”
Pelletier gave her a suspicious look.
Ariana pulled the Damascus dagger from the bag and held it out.
“You—you found it!” Pelletier said, and a crazed smile appeared on his face. “Of course, I knew you would. I don’t hire turds, like I said from the beginning. Whitesong is the best agency there is, so of course the dagger is back with me, where it belongs.”
Quentin, looking aghast, mouthed the word, “Turds?”
“I have another event coming up shortly,” Pelletier continued, because each of us was too shocked to respond. “Naturally, Whitesong will be running security and naturally you’ll do the best job ever.” He chuckled and gazed lovingly at the dagger in his hands. “And you, my dear, are going back on display in the Renne Room.”
Ariana gaped, staring at Pe
lletier and the dagger. Her temper, always in such good control, was approaching the surface. I grasped her elbow and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“We have a long day ahead of us,” I said to Pelletier. “Lots to do, I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” he responded.
I swiveled around, Ariana at my side, and we returned to the Cayenne with Slade and Quentin right behind us. Ariana started the car as they climbed in. I turned to look out my window to watch Pelletier go back inside the Brightwater. The car began moving forward just as Pelletier’s front door opened again and he rushed out.
“Wait!” he called.
“Go faster,” Slade said.
“Tempting,” Ariana said in a dry voice. “But perhaps too unprofessional.”
“I’m taking Slade’s side,” Quentin said, but Ariana put her foot on the brake.
Pelletier was carrying a briefcase, and he held it in front of him as he ran. “The rest of your payment,” he said, “as well as a bonus. I can’t wait to work with Whitesong again.”
I reluctantly opened my door and took the briefcase from his outstretched arms. “Thanks,” I said, giving him a tight smile.
He beamed and stepped back so I could close my door, and then we were off, back to the waiting ferry.
“Just to be clear,” Quentin said, “we are all agreed that we’re never working for that miscreant again, are we not?”
“Definitely agreed,” Ariana said, as Slade and I made our own sounds of affirmation.
“How much is in the case?” Slade asked.
I flicked up the brass—or who knows, maybe they were gold—latches and lifted the lid. Crisp one hundred-dollar bills had been arranged in neat stacks, completely filling the case. “There’s gotta be at least fifty thousand in here,” I said.
“A briefcase, filled like this, will hold one million dollars’ worth of hundred-dollar bills,” Quentin said from just behind my shoulder.
“Who just has a briefcase holding a million dollars sitting around?” I mused. “He didn’t know we were coming today, and there wasn’t time to put it together between giving him the dagger and us getting in the car.”
“Some rich people are really weird,” Slade said, sounding like a wise old sage.
We counted the stacks of money during the ferry ride, because there was nothing better to do. Quentin kept track of the math, and sure enough, by the time we reached the mainland, we knew we had a million dollars.
Slade was grinning from ear to ear, Quentin was laughing. I kept shaking my head in disbelief. Ariana, though, had a look of wonder on her face. Her blackberry jam-colored lips stretched in a grin and she said, “It’s more than enough for funding that macular degeneration research position.”
I touched her hand. Her eyes were shining in relief and happiness. We’d done it. We’d really done it.
From the back, Quentin said, “Well, I don’t know how the rest of you feel, but I do believe we ought to celebrate this in some fashion.”
The entirety of Whitesong Security filled Ben’s bar. He greeted Ariana and me at the door. “I’ve never seen Hiber-Nation so packed,” he said with a jovial smile.
Ariana leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “So much to be grateful for, right?”
He smiled at me, and seemed to note the possessive hold I had on Ariana’s arm. “Looks to be that way, doesn’t it? What can I get you two?”
We each ordered a beer and found our way to Quentin and Slade, who were deep in conversation with a couple of people—Belinda and Jorge—from the security team. They’d worked with us at the Brightwater and they were thrilled that the dagger had been recovered.
“So, what’s next?” Belinda asked.
“Tonight, we’re taking it easy,” I said. “But tomorrow, back to the usual, right, Ari?”
Belinda and Jorge both blinked at the nickname, but Ariana smiled.
“Back to doing good in the world,” she said. “We have a few jobs lined up over the next few weeks, so we’ll all be fighting the good fight.”
“Cheers to that,” Jorge said, and Ariana and I stepped away to greet other employees.
Although the four of us milled around, drinking and visiting with other people from the agency, Ariana stuck close to my side. While she and Maisie chatted, I half-listened, more preoccupied with the delicate curve of Ariana’s neck and following that curve down her spine to where it flared out into her perfect ass. The dress she wore hugged it nicely. Fuck, she was so sexy. She paused mid-conversation and turned to catch my eye.
I grinned, caught staring but completely unrepentant.
Maisie noticed our silent exchange and laughed. “I should go mingle,” she said.
Ariana pulled her into a hug, and I could see their deep affection for each other.
As Maisie walked away, still chuckling to herself, Ariana leaned against my side. She felt so warm, smelled so good. I spread my hand over her hip, with a little more pressure toward the rear. It would be bad form to cup her ass at a work party, but I was sorely tempted.
Temptation won—I spun her sideways so her back was to the wall and reached down to feel her full ass filling my hands. “You have no idea how bad I want you,” I said.
She grinned up at me, her dark eyes sparkling. Stepping forward, she rubbed her pelvis against mine, teasing my hard cock. “Oh, I have a little bit of an idea.”
I groaned softly in her ear, then nipped her lobe with my teeth.
She gasped. “I think we’ve said hi to just about everyone...what do you say we retire for the night?”
“I say that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ariana
I couldn’t believe we’d walked away from the Brightwater job more or less unscathed. We didn’t know who had hired Rocksoff or what the thief’s true identity was. I guessed we never would. It was enough that we had managed to appease Pelletier. It had to be.
And with a huge pile of money, just in time for the research position I wanted to fund. I couldn’t hold back my grin.
I remembered handing the dagger back to Pelletier, and my grin fell. We’d never know why Nevaeh’s dagger was chosen over any of the other relics in the vault. I didn’t want to think about her. I wanted to forget the whole damned war. But never Marc. I stifled a shudder as we walked through the Arrow’s revolving door.
“You okay?” Taylor asked, rubbing my shoulder blades.
“Yeah. I’m glad we don’t have to think about the Lotus War for a while.”
He gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Now I can think about owing a date to Quentin, because we were supposed to spend some time together when the thief showed up,” I said.
Taylor’s green eyes sparkled. He pulled me down the hall toward the private elevator before pressing my back against the wall. With a single finger, he traced the low neckline of my dress. “Do you wish he was here now? Because I could let you go find him.”
I shook my head, quickly. The thought of breaking contact with Taylor for even a second made me feel panicky—not because of fear, but lust. Desire.
Not only that, but love. As puzzling as it was to feel this way about someone after I’d been mated with Marc, I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t deny myself.
Taylor laced his fingers in mine, and led me into the private elevator. His pine-green eyes enticed, while his scent intoxicated me. The small space filled with aether, with fire and flames, with lust.
I pushed forty-nine on the panel, and then I pushed him.
Taylor smiled as I pinned him to the back wall. His expression was as playful as it was predatory. He held himself back when I needed him to. Now we both needed to let go of that restraint.
I tasted his full lips—soft and hot, and just right.
I leaned my forehead on his cheek. “I love you.” It was both terrifying and a relief to speak the words out loud. I’d never thought I could feel this way again, but I did. And I was done holdin
g back, and letting my doubts control my actions. I loved Taylor, maybe I loved them all, but I knew I was ready to share this with him.
Taylor kissed me hard, kissed me deep, and wrapped his arms around me. I was meant to be here, in his arms. It was like they were made just for holding me.
Every glance, every kiss, every touch, had led us to this moment.
He scooped his hands around my bare thighs and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he squeezed my ass.
“I love you, Ariana,” he said between soft pecks to my chin, my jaw, my neck. “I’ve never felt this way about another woman. I’ll take anything you’ll share with me, even a piece of your heart, and I’ll be happy.”
His fingers teased between my thighs, swept across the thin lace of my panties.
The elevator stopped just outside my penthouse. Taylor carried me and I opened my door. As he stepped through, the warmth of the fire soaked into my back. He held me close, and I didn’t want him to ever let go.
He stopped in the living room, and I realized I hadn’t brought him here before.
“That way.” I pointed to the hall.
I’d only brought Slade to my penthouse before, but Taylor would be the first I’d take to my bed.
He kissed my throat, my chin, my ear. All the while, his fingers teased.
“There.” I touched my bedroom door. It gave as he pushed his back into it.
I flipped the switch as he carried me past, and soft light glowed from the sconces beside the bed.
Taylor sat on the edge of the mattress. My knees sank into the soft memory foam. The comforter was cold, but he was warm.
Taylor kissed my collarbone, the center of my chest, the tops of my breasts that peeked out of the square neck of my dress.
I pulled down the zipper on my back, and he stared. An approving smile spread across his face, and he pulled my breast from the thin lacy bra.
“Tell me when to stop,” he said, then flicked his tongue across my hard nipple.
We’d ended things early before, twice. Not this time.
Dragon Shattered_A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy Romance Page 19