The thought of her in that place, completely helpless. I cannot prevent my wolf from surfacing, growling for blood — the blood of those who did that to her.
They’re as much as dead.
I abruptly pace the room to calm down.
“Did” — Nash narrows his eyes — “did anyone touch you?” He’s asking if she’d been raped.
My wolf holds his breath, waiting for her answer.
chapter 15
“No.” I shake my head. Enrique and Nash sigh their relief. “I could sense people all around me. But only Ben and a few of his employees trying to help actually put hands on me.”
“You said you sensed people around you there. Did any of them speak?” Nash asked.
“Yes.” I look at my fingers. “But none of what they said is relevant to this investigation” — Nash cuts me off.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
I don’t want to remember it much less say it aloud.
“Shav. What did they say?”
“They just talked about what they wanted to do to me.” I recall the nasty clank of metals. “One person said they wanted to take a rod to my ass. Another wanted to bind my breasts with rope. You know, sexually deviant stuff.”
I was petrified.
Enrique comes back to stand behind my chair and squeezes my shoulders. Though his touch is tender, his anger seeps through his fingertips to merge with my anxiety.
“I’ll kill them,” Enrique snarls. “When I find who abducted you, I will kill them.”
“I’ll help you,” Nash says.
I hold up my hands in a stop motion. If they threaten death to my assailants, I may never see my pendant again. “Look. I was frightened at the time, but in hindsight, I believe that was their only goal. To scare me. I don’t believe they meant any actual harm.”
“What?” Nash’s jaw drops.
Enrique steps in front of me aghast. “They set you up to be raped in a sex club. They certainly meant you harm!”
“Hear me out, please.”
Enrique narrows his eyes, but listens.
“The man was a wolf and” —
“A wolf?” Snapping the pen in his hand, Nash abruptly stands.
A low growl from Enrique diverts my attention to him.
“Yes. And if he wanted to hurt me, he could have. And the woman was a witch. Even though she tried to mask herself, I sensed it. I think she was responsible for my … lightheadedness.” No doubt, the bitch is the one who hexed me.
Nash scratches the back of his head. “A wolf and a witch attacked you?”
Nodding, I take a deep breath and ask my own question. “The morning Val got home, I found a white feather and a card on my living room side table. They were left with me, for me, right?”
Nash shakes his head and glares at Enrique. Enrique scrubs a hand down his face. I take both responses as a yes.
“The card said to take better care of your Soft witch. What is a Soft witch?”
I’ve practiced witchcraft since I was a child. I’d never heard the term until I eavesdropped on Ben’s phone conversation. In addition to being on the card, the wolf kidnapper mentioned it as a direct reference to me.
Enrique rubs his lips with a knuckle and squeezes his eyes shut.
“Enrique?”
“We can discuss it later, Niña,” he says, darting a glance at Nash.
This they’re together on? Keeping me in the dark? They both know what a Soft witch is.
“What’s wrong with right now?”
“Shav.” Nash growls in warning.
“Shut up, Nash. No one is talking to you,” I hiss.
“We’re done for now.” He flips his leather notepad closed. “Send in your brother, Cruz.”
I cross my legs and get comfortable.
“I said we’re done.” Nash growls. “You can go.”
“I want to hear what Antonio says.”
“No,” he says.
No? Fuck you!
With a thumb, I lift the gold chain off my chest. “I need to find the pendant.”
“I’ll let you know if something significant is said about it.”
“Like I trust you to share vital information.”
Nash licks his bottom lip and fiddles with the broken pen. “Cruz. Your brother,” he murmurs.
Enrique reaches for the corded phone on a credenza behind the desk, presses two numbers. “Antonio. Come to my office.”
He drops the handset into the cradle just as an older woman, dressed in a tailored suit, bursts through the door.
Enrique scowls. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m eager to see how the investigation is going.”
I recognize her raspy voice immediately.
Jack.
The tight smile on her face doesn’t reach her bloodshot eyes. She focuses on me. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Enrique looks at her like she’s crazy.
Smirking, Nash doesn’t look the least bit perturbed at her surprise visit. He set this up. He lured us here with the necklace to catch Enrique unaware. I shake my head at him. He looks away to pitch the broken pen in the wastebasket.
“Well, we’ll just introduce ourselves.” She extends a hand to me. “I’m Jacqueline Duret.”
I stand up to shake her cold, wrinkled, boney hand.
“Shavone Gentil, but you knew that already.”
Positioning himself at my side, Enrique slides an arm around my waist. Her gaze flits to him for a moment of condemnation.
“Call me Jack, please. Your mother was a friend of mine.”
I doubt that. You called her a bitch.
“She was a great woman,” Jack says.
“Yes, she was.”
The only thing I sense about Jack is cynicism. It’s so thick and gray around her. And, she’s neither witch nor wolf. Interesting.
“Are you an employee at DPD?” I ask. I know she’s somehow part of the Alliance, but she could just moonlight at puppeteering lives.
She grins like it’s the most ridiculous thing ever said. “No.”
I watch her eyes closely, see how she reacts to what I’m about to say. “Oh, so you’re here on Alliance business then?”
Her eyes widen just a touch. It’s the flare of Nash’s nostrils, though, that crystallizes it. I’m not supposed to know about the secret organization and neither of the two are pleased that I do. Both shoot daggers at Enrique.
Shit. They better back off. I lean back slightly, to touch him.
“No. I didn’t hear about it from Enrique.”
I let the silence drag on, let their shock deepen.
Jacqueline’s smile disappears with each passing second. “Who, then?” She grates, her lips twisted in a scowl.
“Does it really matter?” I smile.
“Yes, it does,” Nash grumbles.
I laugh.
Jack untwists her lips for another tight smile. “As it so happens, you are correct. We do need to discuss Alliance business.” She includes Nash and Enrique in her glance. “Please excuse us.” She efforts to dismiss me.
“Are you going to talk about Soft witches?”
Jack fairly chokes.
Enrique’s arm tenses.
Nash’s eyes are the biggest I’ve ever seen them.
“Oh, good. I want to be in on that discussion.”
“Wait in the lounge, Shavone.” The order from Nash is flat, regretful, the smugness gone from his demeanor.
Fuck him. He forced this meeting. I’m going to take advantage of it.
“You’re going to talk about me. I’m staying.”
“Oh, for fucks sake, Shav!” Nash booms, glaring at me now. “Would you listen for once in your goddamn life?”
Enrique will back me up. I turn slightly to see his face, to encourage him to speak. Caressing my arm, his forehead is creased and his head tilts in apology.
No.
“Go, little witch, make yourself a drink at the bar. I
’m certain we won’t be long.”
After everything that happened today? Making love? Mating? My heart, filled by Enrique over the past few hours, deflates so rapidly, with such an intensity, that I swear it stops beating.
I expect this kind of shit from Nash. Never from Enrique. I step away from him.
“Shavone.” He touches my hand. I yank it away, out of his reach.
This anguish is unprecedented. It’s worse than Mom’s death or Dillon’s, darker than Val’s rejection or Nash’s lies. God. I grit my teeth and hurry out of the room — running headlong into Antonio.
“Whoa.” He catches me and keeps me from falling. “You okay?”
“Peachy.” I do my best impression of a wolven snarl with the oxygen left in my lungs, and keep moving.
The dressing room is cordoned off with yellow tape and a police officer stands guard. I hurry toward the lounge, sensing Enrique a few steps behind me.
The luxurious place is in complete disarray — chairs on their sides, tables turned upside down, drapes stripped from the stage. And it’s completely empty. Thank goodness.
I let the pain ooze out of my psyche, let my chest heave with unadulterated white-hot rage; not at Jack or at Nash, but at my mate.
Once behind the bar, I close the bar flap. Enrique pins me with his eyes as he easily leaps over the barrier. I give him my back and reach for a wine glass from the rack above. In these low heels and on my tiptoes, I can’t reach them. I give up. Bracing my hands on the bar, I hunch over it for support.
“Shavone.” He grips my shoulders and leans down to nuzzle my throat.
I step away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t run from me.”
I laugh sarcastically. “You wanted me gone, I’m gone.”
He moves to stand in front of me. I blink fast.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
“Let’s be clear. I do not want you gone.” His expression is so sincere. “Ever.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I thought you were on my side.”
“Of course I am.” His brow pulls together. “How can you doubt that? I am always on your side. Only yours.”
I snort a laugh. “That’s not what just happened.”
Tilting my head back to look into my eyes, he caresses my cheek. “You said you trusted me irrevocably. Is that still true?”
I thought it was.
“Cruz.” Nash’s voice booms across the lounge.
We ignore him.
“Say you trust me.” Enrique’s dark eyes dart between mine demanding an answer.
“I trust your wolf.”
It’s a weak offer and his facial expression reflects that.
“Perhaps I didn’t explain the concept well enough. We are two sides of the same person.”
“I understand. Your wolf is your intuition — of sorts.”
With a head bob he considers that analogy. “Of sorts.”
“Well, your wolf is the smart side of you. You should listen to him more often.”
And there he is, in Enrique’s eyes, smiling proudly.
“Perhaps I should,” he concedes.
“Cruz!” Nash bellows louder from the hall.
“I’m tending to my mate!” Enrique snarls at him.
“Trouble in paradise?” Nash chuckles.
Motherfucker.
Enrique turns back to me. “I promise you, everything will be clear in due time. But we must let it happen as it is meant to happen.”
I’m so mad and so frustrated. He just spoke a riddle.
“What the hell does that mean?” I spit out through gritted teeth.
“It means you must have patience, mi dulce.”
“Stop with the damn endearments.” I wiggle in a futile effort to get out of his grasp. “Actions speak far louder than words in my book.”
With a tug of my hair, my face tilts up as his mouth comes down — soft and tender, pleading and sweet. At once an apology and an appeal that I should accept his odd justification for kicking me out of the office. His hands, one molded to my head, the other on the small of my back, gently pull me closer.
Oh my god, he tastes so good. The heat of the affectionate kiss turns up at my lick of his lips. With a quiet growl, Enrique’s mouth lifts away. Resting his forehead on mine, his hands frame my face. I look into the eyes of his wolf.
“No fair,” I breathe.
“You wanted action, I give you action.” He smirks.
“Kissing me when I’m angry is a foul.”
“Oh, it didn’t taste foul at all.” He rubs his nose on my lips. “Not at all.”
Rage and love wage a war inside me.
His dark eyes squint. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.” He kisses my forehead.
“I thought we weren’t going to let the Alliance run our lives any more,” I whisper as low as I can, trying so hard not to cry.
“We aren’t.”
“Then, why are you trusting them?”
“I’m not.” Enrique shakes his head.
Nash sighs loudly.
“You better go.” On an exhale, I push at Enrique to let me go. He doesn’t.
The wolf recedes, and the man returns with a restrained tenderness.
“You’ll be alright?” He strokes my head and back.
“Sure.” I shrug, but I’m not so sure at all.
He kisses my forehead, again. “Are you less angry at me now?”
“I guess.” Yes, I am. Is it his kiss or his wolf that calms me?
“Good.” His nose in my hair, he inhales. “You soothe me as well, you know.”
I disentangle myself from him. This time he lets me go.
“We’re waiting,” Nash growls.
“Wait some more.” Enrique lifts an expensive bottle of Brunello from the wine cooler and slides a glass off the rack to hand to me.
Enrique steps back twice, but hesitates when I don’t pour the wine.
“Go.” I lift my chin in Nash’s direction. “Be my eyes and ears with the lying son of a bitch.” I say it loud enough for Nash to hear.
“I’ll be listening for you as well. Call out if you need me.” Enrique walks backwards for five more steps before turning around and disappearing behind the curtain.
For a few seconds, Nash stares, his expression somewhere between anger and worry. I glare back to show him I’m not intimidated by him anymore. After a deep sigh, he swallows and turns to follow Enrique back to the office.
I put away the bottle. I don’t want any damn wine. What I want is the truth and my pendant.
The door to the storeroom is ajar. I edge toward it and peek inside. I’m brought up short by a man in a suit. I sense he’s a wolf.
“Ma’am.” He acknowledges me. When he turns to tug off yellow crime scene tape from just inside the threshold, his badge glints in the light.
Oh, he’s a cop. “You’re finished?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you find anything else?”
He shakes his head no. “Afraid not.”
“Can I go in?”
“There’s quite a bit of broken glass.”
I reach behind the door for the broom and dustpan on the hook. “Can I clean it up?”
“That’s fine, I suppose. Don’t touch the delivery door. Detective LaFontaine wants it dusted again.”
Of course he does. “Not a problem.”
The man leaves with his tape.
I make my way back to the vodka shelf. There’s the box of Fourteener laying on the floor, glass still everywhere. After sweeping up the shards, I gingerly crouch down and look under the shelves. Nothing. I move bottles aside on the lower shelves. Nothing.
Deep down, I sense that it isn’t here. Leaving, I dump the dustpan and hang the cleaning tools back on the wall on my way out.
The lounge is still empty. I go through the curtain, stopping briefly to listen. The wolves must have heard me, because they’re silent. Not a peep comes from the office.
&n
bsp; What-the-fuck-ever. I have my own methods.
The cop in the suit must have finished in the dressing room, too. The tape is now gone.
My purse is exactly where I left it, albeit the contents unceremoniously dumped onto the vanity. My phone battery is totally dead. I put it, and everything else back in the bag, save for one tea candle.
“Earth, air, water and fire” — I light the candle — “ancestors and spirits, my need is dire.” The flame rises quite high. They’re here, powerful allies, and their warmth fills me with peace and the confidence to continue.
“Keeper of what disappears, hear me now, please open your ears. Search the land and all that you see, help me find what is lost to me.”
A brisk zephyr flits through the room, blows the candlelight and my hair. It keeps moving, waving the curtains at the threshold. As it makes another pass, it gets stronger, knocking over a waste pail and, with one mighty gust straight up, lifts a terry robe off a hook.
Oh! It’s the babydoll lingerie I was wearing when I was kidnapped. Who hung it here?
Something knitted and black hangs out of the robe pocket. I reach for it, intending to pull it out. When my fingers touch the wool cloth, I’m pulled to my knees by a jolt of images.
The prick of the needle, kicking the woman, climbing down from the step stool, fighting and fighting, me kneeing her nose, running for the door and getting caught, the woman’s hands on my neck, her rings, the man’s voice.
“Night night, little witch,” he said. Only Enrique calls me little witch.
I want to let go of the knitted thing, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed, laying on the dressing room floor. The kidnapping is on repeat, playing with super loud audio. The stab in my calf, hitting her in the nose, the man laughing. The drug. I’m losing consciousness. No. I have to stay awake. I have to —
“Nooooooo!” I scream. And the movie starts over for a third time from the beginning this time with hands touching and pulling at me. I can’t fight back. My limbs won’t move. Damn it.
“Noooooo!” I scream as loud as I can. The knitted thing is ripped out of my hand. The noise stops instantly. The images fade to black.
I can’t hear anything, can’t see anything, but finally I can move. Kicking and punching blindly, I let out a ferocious growl and scream like Nash taught me. Knees, feet, hands, elbows — I land a few good jabs before giant hands grab mine and more hands hold down my legs.
Soft Fate (Wolven Moon Book 2) Page 12