Anger and fear mixed with loathing to burn like a lump of acid in her stomach. “Yes.”
The situation was hysterically ironic. Godfrey had saved her from dying in childbirth with his magic potion. He’d kept her alive, not for Doumar or to make money, but to use her for his own, selfish needs, turning her love for her child against her as a weapon.
Godfrey turned to Doumar. “Drop the pants. Do I need to call in my men to hold you down? I’m sure they’d each like a turn.”
“No,” Doumar gritted out, reaching for his belt with shaky fingers.
Even if she hated Doumar, her insides trembled on his behalf. Godfrey was a hundred shades crueler than Doumar could ever dream of being. They were only scratching the surface. Godfrey was just starting to show his true colors. He’d come to Doumar with a remedy when she was pregnant and had managed to, slowly but surely, worm his way into the club until he owned all of Doumar’s legal and illegal businesses. Before Doumar had realized what was happening, he was Godfrey’s puppet.
“You can go, Miss Val,” Godfrey said as Doumar dropped his pants to the floor. “Unless you’d like to watch?”
There would be retribution later for the humiliation Doumar was forced to suffer in front of her, but for now she was happy to escape the room, leaving Doumar to the same fate he’d submitted her to since she’d turned eighteen.
Shutting the door behind her, she leaned on the wood and closed her eyes. Not able to stand the sounds that filtered through the door, she fled to the palm reading room and locked herself in. She dropped down in a chair and held her head in her hands. She didn’t know if Joss was a good man or not, but if he lived in Godfrey’s kind of world, he wasn’t innocent. Like all men who fought for power, he carried his share of sins. What she did know, was Bono didn’t deserve to be used and cheated, but neither did Niels deserve to die. She’d protect her son with her life. She’d steal, deceive, and kill for him.
When Bono and Joss had made an appointment to visit her at the club, they’d left an address, no doubt fake, and a telephone number. For discretion, customers didn’t leave their names, but were allotted a customer number that was linked to their payment details and contact number. The number would’ve been tested to ensure it was real. It was a requirement for all customers in case a payment should bounce. With dreaded but determined steps she made her way to the front office and pulled the ledger from the safe. She was going through the numbers to find the one linked to the date and time of Bono’s visit when Doumar’s door opened at the end of the hall.
Godfrey exited with a grin, adjusting his clothes.
“Good day, Miss Val,” he said as he walked past. “Be sure to have something of value for me in a couple of days.” He saluted as he cleared the building. “I’ll be in touch.”
The security guard at the door avoided her eyes. Everyone had heard what had happened in Doumar’s office. They waited in a tense silence for Doumar to make his appearance. When he finally came out a long time later, there was a slight limp to his walk. Afraid of his reaction, Sky didn’t acknowledge him or his discomfort. Knowing him as well as she did, he’d prefer to pretend what Godfrey had done never happened. Averting her eyes, she kept busy with the ledger until Doumar had left. Only then did she punch the number into the desk phone.
A ringtone broke the silence.
“Hello?” a deep, sleepy voice said.
She had to have woken him. She hadn’t paid attention to the late hour. “Mr. Black, I need to see you.”
Chapter Four
The café was quiet. Bono chose a table at the back from where he could watch the door and took off his linen jacket. He arranged it over the chair back before pulling the menu close. Hiding his arms behind the menu, he synchronized the settings of the wrist pad with those of the server Maya ran from a van parked nearby. If anything was to go wrong, this was his link to the team. They’d pull him out if the meeting was a set-up. Somehow, he doubted Miss Val was going to assassinate him. At least not today. Satisfied that the device worked, he ordered a latte and waited.
A few minutes later, Sky appeared in the door. The breath was knocked from his lungs. She wore a peach-colored dress that was more see-through than not, revealing purple boy shorts and a bra. Her hair was fastened in a messy bun. There was no foundation on her flawless skin, but black kohl outlined her eyes. Gloss made her lips shine, accentuating the full curve. As the first time, it was the bottomless sorrow in her cloudless eyes that pulled at his heartstrings.
She took her time to assess him where he sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs wide. The way her gaze lingered on his face made a pleasant heat crawl up his spine. If he’d been born with a fairer skin, she’d see the darkening of his cheeks. It wasn’t embarrassment as much as lust. God, what this woman did to him with nothing but her eyes.
He offered a smile. At the gesture, she moved inside, walked to him, and took a seat.
Opening her fist, she let a joint roll onto the table. “More of typical Amsterdam for the tourist.”
Her waist was narrow and her slender legs long. The desire to cup her hips and feel her between his hands was fierce, but he managed to keep his hands to himself. “You take me for a cliché.”
“Isn’t this what everyone moves to after beer and cheese?”
“I’m not everyone.”
“Keep it. I don’t smoke.”
“Neither do I.” He folded his arms on the table. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Banana-coffee shake.”
“Say please.”
She scowled.
“It’s good manners, Sky.”
Batting her eyelashes, she gave him a pouty-lip frown. “Please.”
He signaled for a waiter and placed the order. When the server was gone, he said, “Why did you call?”
“Why are you still in Amsterdam?”
“My schedule is my boss’s. I work on his time.”
“What is he still doing here?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”
“Are you interested in Joss? If you’re using me to get to him, you should know he’s taken.”
Her lips tilted. It wasn’t enough to go through as a smile, but she looked cute when she tried so hard not to smile at him. “I know.”
“How?”
“I saw it in his palm.” She took his hand. “I’m sorry I was a jerk the other day when you asked me to read your palm. I can do it now.”
He freed his hand from her soft grasp. “No thanks.”
Hurt invaded her eyes, but she replaced it quickly with a mask of indifference. “Why not?”
“I don’t want to put you through it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I prefer you tell me something other than my future.” More honestly, he didn’t want to risk her seeing that he was spying for Cain, or what the team was up to.
She clasped her hands together on her lap. “Like what?”
There were many questions he should be asking, pointers that had been drilled into him by the team, but what came out of his mouth was what was foremost on his mind. “Why did your parents name you Sky?”
“I don’t know. I never got a chance to ask my mother. She died giving birth to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I hate my name. I wish I was called something normal and pretty, like Annie.”
“You don’t look like an Annie. I think Sky is beautiful. It suits you perfectly.”
“Why did yours call you Bono? Did your mother have a fixation on the rock star?”
“You’re ignorant,” he said teasingly, emphasizing it with a disapproving shake of his head. “In my language, Bono means all good.”
Her eyes searched his. There was something warm and disconcerting in the way she looked at him, as if he was the sole focus of her senses.
“What a strange combination of words,” she said. “Nothing can ever be all good.”
“Nothing
can ever be all bad, either.”
“From where I’m sitting, life looks infinitely bad.”
“Why do you say that?”
She studied her nails, which were chewed so short some of them were bleeding. “I know what’s in the future, and I don’t see many good things there.”
Folding his hand over hers, he gave a squeeze. “Then maybe you should look at the present.”
She stared at him. “Right now, I’m looking at you. That’s enough.”
The borrowed time in the café with her could never be enough. He had a sudden urge to take her away from here to someplace happy. “How much time do we have?”
“All the time I want.”
“Don’t you have to work?” He’d hate to make more trouble for her than what she was obviously already carrying on her narrow shoulders.
“I’m taking a holiday.”
“What do you do when you’re on holiday?”
“I don’t know. When I was a child, my grandparents used to take me fishing or to the amusement park.”
“Then it’s hooking worms for bait or the big dipper. Which will it be?”
She laughed, a clear, pretty sound that made him happier than anything had in a long time. “I hope you’re not scared of heights.”
“Are you joking? You’re talking to a pilot.”
They left hand in hand and caught a cab to a small, neglected fairground with few rides, but from the way her eyes sparkled, their sad light momentarily suppressed, it was a special place.
After queuing for tickets, they started with the big dipper, worked their way around the rides to the hall of mirrors, and ended with the games. Sky wanted the teddy bear, so he shot down the pins, full score, and got her a cotton candy, too. The bear she gave to the first child who passed, but she kept the candy.
Outside the haunted house, she leaned on the fence, bending her knee to rest a foot on the wood. She broke off a piece of the treat and held it to him. He didn’t react immediately. He took a second to appreciate the sight in front of him.
Dusk had fallen. The air had a dusty-pink color. A comfortable breeze stirred the warmth of the day. A mixture of generator fumes and burned sugar wrapped around them. Laughter and ecstatic shrieks rose above the carousel tune. The atmosphere was thick with excitement and the unspoken anticipation of lovers for how the night might end. With the lights shining at her back, her body was a dark silhouette to him, every curve and dip begging to be copied by the hollow of his hand.
“What?” she asked, her arm still poised in the air.
Upon his silence, her half-smile started slipping. How could he tell her the things in his heart when he was supposed to protect his team?
The spun sugar had melted to a clump between her fingers. She slowly lowered her hand, but he grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around each delicate digit covered in sticky, pink sweetness. The coolness of her eyes grew one shade of blue warmer as she watched him taste her. Her casual comportment didn’t change, but the sexual energy that drew her body and nipples tight was as palpable as the stiffness of his cock.
Coming to her senses with an almost inaudible gasp, she pulled her fingers free. He allowed her to deny him her taste, but he didn’t release his grip on her wrist. Gently, he dried her fingers on the hem of his shirt. A group of girls turned their heads as they passed, making wolf whistles at him and giggling behind their hands.
Sky gave them a hard stare, one that clearly said hands off. He liked that she showed her little claws on his behalf. It meant she was jealous, and if she was jealous, she had staked her claim, maybe not of him, but at least of this time they were spending together. Circling his arm around her waist, he pulled her delicate body up against his. She was warm and soft. Her breasts molded under his breastbone and her hips locked with his as if she was made for him. She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t embrace him either. The pliantness of her body was enough permission for him to lean forward, putting their faces so close he could feel the ghost of a vapor escape from her lips and smell her cotton candy breath.
There were so many things to consider, Doumar and his team for starters, not to mention that he was seducing her to steal information for Cain. Not even the knowledge of what a lowlife he was could drag him away from those lips. The lure was too strong. The only thing that could stop him, and save them both the heartache the truth would bring, was if she said no.
“I’m going to kiss you, Sky. If you don’t want this, now is the time to say so.”
Say no, beautiful. Save yourself. Tell me to fuck off, and I will.
Her answer was to hold his gaze and slip a hand around the back of his neck. Her skin was cool and her touch light. Everything about her was fresh and untouchably fragile, like a cloud in the sky. She was like a phantom energy, a mist in the night—too delicate, too intense, and way too fleeting.
Too late.
They were both screwed. He was breaking every rule in his book, starting with rule number one—never hit on another man’s woman.
“Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to run,” he whispered, blowing air over her lips as her tongue peeked out to wet them.
She kept her eyes open as his mouth came closer, like he knew she would. There was nothing scared in her breakable, vulnerable body. The kiss was sweet, and like her touch, light. He didn’t push for more. Something inside him warned him to take baby steps with her. He folded his arms around her and cradled her body against his, nipping at her lips while giving her what he sensed she needed most—warmth and comfort.
He only took what she offered until she broke the kiss. Her lips were red and plump, deliciously bruised from his stubble and teeth. It stirred a possessiveness in him that was scary. She didn’t belong to him, and while she was with Doumar, she never would. They were on opposite sides of the fence, each playing for the enemy team. It was a cruel tragedy, a Romeo and Juliet kind of fucked-up situation.
Resting his forehead against hers, he pulled her to him for a quick hug. “Fuck, Sky.” The desolation he felt sounded in his voice.
She pushed back with her hands on his chest, regarding him as if she couldn’t figure him out.
“What is it, beautiful?”
“You’re not like other men.”
“Do you want me to be?”
“No.”
He gripped her chin in a soft caress, searching her eyes. “Then we’re okay.”
A tremble ran over her body. “I’m going home.”
Confused at her sudden change, he grabbed her arm when she turned from him. “I’ll take you.”
“I can walk.”
“I’ll walk you.”
She pulled free and started making for the exit, dumping the cotton candy in a trashcan on the way.
He caught up with her and moved around to block her way. “Did I do something wrong?”
She shivered and hugged herself, even if the night wasn’t cold. He pulled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, expecting her to protest, but she didn’t. The reason for bringing her here was to make her happy. He wasn’t going to let her go like this. Besides, he still had to get some answers, or Cain might decide to pull him out and kill her sooner. That wasn’t an option.
“Sky.” He took her shoulders. “Tell me.”
She rested her chin on her shoulder, staring blindly into the crowd. “Why didn’t you take advantage? You could’ve. I would’ve let you.”
“I want you, but not like that.”
She sniffed and looked back at him, the flicker of hope in her terrified eyes almost his undoing.
“It’s all right.” He pulled her against him and stroked her back. “We’ll figure it out. Will you let me see you home? I don’t like the idea of you wandering around alone this late at night.”
“You’re concerned about me?”
“Yes.” More than she could know. If she knew what were in the cards for her, she’d run from him. The pain of his betrayal was som
ething he’d expected, but not the intensity.
“We’ll find a way,” he said, more to himself than to her.
He had to find a way to keep her safe. How to do that while saving not only himself, but also everyone else on the team, was a problem he didn’t yet have answers to.
“You should hate me,” she whispered. “Don’t you see? I’m trying to be kind. I’m giving you a chance to walk away.”
He kissed the top of her head. “It’s too late for that, beautiful, way too late.”
She buried her face against his chest, gathering fistfuls of his shirt in her hands. For one, sweet moment she clung to him, unabashedly allowing him to see her in a moment of weakness, and then she straightened her spine.
“We better go,” she said.
There were no more protests from her as he hailed a cab and took her home.
Inside her caravan, he halted when he saw the mess. “What happened?”
“Sorry,” she said, turning her back on him and busying herself with picking items off the floor. “I didn’t have time to tidy up. I’m not usually this messy.”
He couldn’t read her expression, but from the way every muscle in her back and shoulders tensed, whatever had happened to create the havoc was serious. Not pushing for an explanation, he started gathering bowls and cups from the floor.
She grabbed his hand as he was about to place a cup on the table.
“What are you doing, Bono?”
“Getting this place straightened out.”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to help.”
“I don’t need saving.”
Understanding bloomed in his heart. “Is that what other men try to do?”
She dropped her hand and looked away from him.
“It’ll go quicker if we do it together,” he said.
“I don’t deserve help. I should clean up my own mess.”
He chuckled. “Why don’t you flog yourself while you’re at it?” Without waiting for a reply, he resumed his task.
This time, she didn’t stop him. They worked side by side, silently and efficiently. Not once were they under each other’s feet in the small space, like a well-oiled machine, like parts that fit together.
Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 8) Page 5