Obsidian Liquor
Copyright 2014 Scarlett Dawn
First Edition
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of these publications may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover and Formatting by ShoutLines Design
Editing by Hot Tree Editing.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Preview of King Hall
Preview of Fall
About the Author
DEDICATION
To Sarah,
All I can say is that I hope every child has an absolute-friend, like I had in you, while they're growing up. From reading all night to swimming in the pond to being chased by a bull...a kid can't get any better. When I look back to my childhood - with you in it - I always wear a private, content smile. You did that for me.
Much love,
S.D.
November 1, 2014—The first day of the charity event…
I knew I was having a rotten day when not only did my car rental break down, but the tow truck hauling my decrepit rental also broke down—when I was already late for work to begin with.
With smoke billowing from under the popped hood of the tow truck, I cursed quietly at the man bending over the engine. I did not have time for this. Not today.
I glanced down the deserted road lined with exotic trees. “How far until Palm Resort?”
The guy’s dirt smeared face lifted. He glanced around and scratched his head with the screwdriver—what the hell was he going to do with that—and pointed in the direction I already knew I needed to go. “That way. About three miles.”
I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. It was fucking hot in Key West. “Look, I’m going to walk it.” I pulled out my business card and belatedly realized my own hands were just as dirty as his were from when I had attempted to fix the rental myself. “My name’s Elizabeth Forter. This is my cell number. Have the rental service call me when they have a replacement ready.”
Nodding, he took the card. “Will do, Ms. Forter. I’m sorry about the inconvenience.”
Not replying to that comment, I turned and started walking. Maybe I would write a piece on their crappy service. It would serve them right. I was missing a possibly big story. I felt it in my gut. I did not care what the rags in Moscow said. I knew deep down that Grigori Kozar and Ember Lerrus were an item, even if the past two months had been dead in the water with Ember seen on dates with Cole Donovan and Brent Terrance, and Grigori being seen with a new player from Russia, Zoya Petrova.
There was just something there. Moreover, all of them were hot news.
Anyone who got any scoop where Brent and Cole were concerned was going to make the front page since news of their return from a massively successful military mission had spread like wildfire. In addition, I had a ‘thing’ for the Donovans and their money. The Mayor, Cole’s father, had shut down so many of my stories that I felt a sense of true triumph every time I was able to splash Cole’s name in an unbecoming way. So I was here to dig dirt up on the Donovans via Grigori and Ember. Brent, Cole, and Ember were supposedly in a serious relationship, old news from a month ago stating they were a threesome, and if I could prove that Ember was stepping out on them, it would make Cole look like a real schmuck.
I snickered and quickened my pace, but my short legs could only go so fast. A mile down the road – thank you road marker – I started regretting my heels. Not to mention, my huge bag I was rolling behind me.
How much shit had I packed?
Did I really need that extra Prada purse? Or my forth pair of black heels? Hmm…yes.
Yes, I did. My hard-earned paychecks helped me look good.
By the time I arrived at the resort, I was wearing sweat-soaked silk that clung to my body that was decorated with dust and smears of oil where I had wiped my hands to sign the check-in forms. I breathed in the cool air, and asked the long nosed man behind the counter, “How long until the Brick Foundation Event starts?”
He checked the resort’s schedule and glanced at the clock. “You’re press?” When I nodded, he stated, “You have a half hour before they allow the press inside.”
I glanced to the enormous interior of the resort, knowing I would never make it. “Do you have a map of this place?” He did. He even circled the building I needed to go to, where my room was, and where I currently was. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Forter. Enjoy your stay,” he replied politely, handing over my room card before motioning for the next person in line to step forward.
I studied the map, extremely confused until I realized it was upside down.
I flipped the stupid thing right side up.
That was better.
I dashed to my room, and took the quickest shower possible. I threw on my staid tan skirt suit, pairing it with a pink camisole that was light and airy. I did not have time to dry my hair, so I ran a wide-spaced comb through my short riot of strawberry blonde curls and added mousse so it did not frizz too badly in the humidity here. A little lip-gloss, some mascara, my silver thin glasses, my press badge, my purse, and I was ready to rock.
At the last minute, I grabbed my duffle that was full of cameras, tape recorders, and video equipment from one of the packages that had already been delivered to my room this morning before my arrival. God, I loved a praiseworthy resort.
This job had originally been given to a newbie, but I had pestered my editor enough that he had allowed me to take the assignment. However, I was flying solo. I had been given the same resources that the newbie would have been allotted. I had splurged a bit of my own money on items that I had researched online before coming here. A little undercover work was going to be needed.
I made it to the building that was as big as an arena just as the other press members were arriving. I did not recognize any of them because they were all lower on the totem pole than I in the news business; however, I quickly shot photos of all of them with my camera phone before they noticed me. I may be plain and young, but my face was now known to the news world, thanks to when I uncovered Jake Donnally was really Grigori Kozar, the son of Daniil Kozar, the head of the Russia mafia.
Sometimes, my accolades were a plus.
Most days, they were a real hindrance.
I knew as soon as the other press members noticed me. They started whispering and covertly watching me where I stood in the back of the group while waiting for Mrs. Donovan to give her speech. After she was through speaking, we would be allowed inside and down on the main floor. I had not done this kind of work in so long, I was actually a little nervous.
I hoped it was like riding a bike.
Mrs. Donovan stepped outside the doors where I could hear many rowdy voices and shouts. She looked as beautiful as ever, even dressed down in dress slacks and a simple silk shirt. Her black hair was loose today around her tan face, and her dark brown eyes gleamed as she warmly smiled at all of us. “Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming.” I quickly turned on my tape recorder and lifted it high, since I was in the back. “First, I want to welcome you. This event is supporting Brick Foundation, a charity that strives to giv
e education to those less fortunate in Africa. It will be a two-week event. You will receive the itinerary as you walk through the doors. There will be many celebrities and politicians coming that the firefighters, police, armed forces, and security individuals inside have helped at some time in their lives. There are many events planned and they’re all over this resort, so please pay attention to your itineraries or you may miss out on an event.”
Her smile brightened even further. “This is a new charity and they need your support in making their name known, so please make sure to include their name in your pieces, and not just who is kissing whom and who’s wearing what.” We all chuckled…because that was partially the truth. “I hope you enjoy the festivities and donate if you are able. The first event starts in two hours. The public will be allowed inside in an hour, so feel free to do your interviews until then. However, be careful. These are trained individuals, but they are warming up for the competition. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” She opened the steel double doors, and motioned for us to go inside.
I clicked off my tape recorder and darted into the fold. My name had only just today been changed on the press list so they could not blackball me at the last minute, and I did not want to be seen before I could get in. Once I was in, it was cake. They could not throw a fit if I was already inside. As long as they did not catch me doing anything wrong, anyway.
I grabbed an itinerary as they were handed out and pushed through the crowd walking between the bleachers. The room was only part of the building from the size of it. It appeared like a boxing arena with bleachers on all four walls, and a literal boxing ring in the middle. The bleachers were not fully extended yet, so there were groups all over the place warming up in sweatpants, gi pants, or sports bras and shorts. My gaze swung across the space until I quickly spotted my prey. They were in a large group in the corner across the room.
I scrutinized the layout for access. Hidden access.
I did not want to be seen just yet.
It was not hard to perceive my only option, the bleachers.
I moved with a group of press that was heading to the opposite corner, but along the same wall as my target. They asked questions and I politely answered them, seeing the same look of awe on their faces that tended to drive me crazy. Someone tapped my shoulder, and I glanced back…and slammed right against someone.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” I mumbled as the smell of roses invaded my senses. I hurried to straighten my glasses and peered way, way up. I dropped my head just as quickly. I promptly maneuvered out of the hold that Grigori’s father, Daniil, the man I had slammed into, had on me, trying to keep me steady. Stupidly, I repeated myself. “Sorry.”
I had no clue if he even knew what I looked like, but I had seen him plenty.
He moved aside easily enough, allowing me to catch up with my group.
The man that had tapped my shoulder was chuckling. “You better pay attention to what Mrs. Donovan said. Some of those people look like they could crush me, much less someone as small as you.”
I nodded—duh—and slipped through their group to the front edge.
As soon as they landed in the corner right where I wanted, I stepped back, surveying everyone. No one was watching me, so I ducked under the bleacher that was only out a few steps. I progressed through the darkness slowly, going straight, the only way I could, right toward my target.
I stopped a few feet back and stayed in the shadows.
Ember was stretching her calves against the wall and talking to a fine-looking guy. I mentally ran through the list of names I knew…Lev something or other. I pulled out my tape recorder and whispered the date and time, along with Ember’s and Lev’s names, and held the device closer to them, listening.
“I’m telling you, I bet I beat your time. It’ll be a fair wager. We have no clue who we’re going to be fighting,” Lev stated, stretching his hamstrings.
Ember stared with cold eyes and shrugged. “Whatever. I just want to get in the ring with someone talented. But I’ll take the bet. What did you say? A grand?”
Lev nodded. “A grand.” He eyed her as she went back to gazing at the wall and switching feet. He asked softly, “Ember, is everything all right? You seem a little…distant.”
“I’m fine,” she muttered quickly, hugging the wall to get a good stretch.
“It’s been a while since we talked. We could have a drink after this and catch up.”
“I don’t think Brent and Cole would like that.” Her head fell against the wall, pushing harder. “Maybe when things calm down some. They’ve only been back a month.”
Lev reached out and gripped her chin, turning her face toward him. He studied her, and asked bluntly, “Are you happy with them? Still happy? They were gone for two years.”
Her gaze went even more frigid. She stayed silent for a long few moments before she finally spoke. “We’re getting to know each other again. Time will tell.”
He dropped his hand. “Well, I’m here if you really want to talk.”
Ember smiled, kind of, as she stepped back from the wall. “Thanks.” She spun away and strolled to Zane Harris, one of the owners of their company, Lion Security, who was standing in the corner talking with Cole.
Eva Kozar, another one of the mafia brats, moved next to Lev, so I yanked the recorder back, ready to state her name…but I stalled when I felt unusual heat behind me.
I clicked the recorder off, stuffed it down my bra, and swiftly turned. It was hard to see in the darkness, but I pushed my glasses up and stared at the man that had come up behind me. It was Roman Kozar; seriously, they had a lot of damn siblings. He silently stared down at me before glancing behind me, taking in what I had almost gotten on tape. My heart was pounding in my ears, and I was more than freaked when he still did not say anything, only grabbed my arm and manhandled me out the way I had come, thankfully not the end that would take me right into their group.
I quickly saw why he went this way when he none-to-gently tossed me out from behind the stands. Daniil, his bodyguards, Artur Kozar—another mafia kid—and Stash Bailey, a co-owner of Lion Security, were all standing there. A pretty damn formidable group. I was not afraid to say that I was a little intimidated by all their bulging muscles and testosterone, but I kept my mouth shut. There was no need to start babbling what I had been doing, and plus, I had no clue how long Roman had been standing behind me.
Daniil glanced at Roman, raising his eyebrows.
Roman quietly spoke in Russian.
I bit my cheek in frustration. I had no clue what the hell he was saying.
Daniil peered at me. His stare was a warning. “What were you doing, Ms. Forter?”
So he did know who I was. The jerk had probably followed me after I had bumped him.
I shrugged and went with the semi-truth. “Getting a story.”
“What story might that be?” Stash asked, his gaze roaming me in an assessing way. We had never met before, so this was my first up close and personal with the man.
I shrugged again. “Brent and Cole are big news. Anything that I can put in print that others don’t have is good business.” Sticking to the truth as much as possible was always key when caught snooping. And I was press. They expected it of me.
“Hear anything interesting?” Daniil asked gently.
Instinct had me taking a step back. The man was chilling on a different level. “Nothing I didn’t already know.” Ember was not happy with Brent and Cole. She always smiled pretty for the cameras, but her eyes gave her away. Anyone who hid that much in her gaze was not happy.
“What a shame,” Daniil stated slowly. He glanced at Artur, speaking in Russian before his regard returned to me. “Artur will be your escort while you interview the group you were spying on.” He bent, and I froze like a skittish deer as he placed his mouth against my ear, my damp hair being pressed against my head. “If I ever catch you spying on any of my children, you will never write another article. Because you won’t have hands to do it wi
th.”
I started trembling at the blatant honesty in his tone as he leaned back and smiled charmingly. Right before he angled his body differently, and with reflexes I sure as hell did not have, he slipped his hand down my camisole right into my bra. My eyes widened as he grabbed the tape recorder and pulled in out just as swiftly as he had stuck his hand down my top.
My reflex came naturally to any man that would have done that.
I smacked him across his face. I was smart enough to realize that was a really bad move, and stumbled back just as quickly, slamming against the bleachers.
Silence extended as he slowly straightened, his gaze wandering over me, his expression one of disdain as he rubbed his cheek. He did not even need to say anything. His look said it all. I was not his type. Never would be. I was beneath him.
My eyes narrowed. But I did not say anything. I had just poked the shark with…not even a sharp stick…more like, a twig. It was just enough to irritate him and make him notice me. I sure as hell did not want to be his dinner.
Then, he opened his big fat mouth. “You shouldn’t hide something like this in an area so small. It’s too noticeable.” He twirled the tape recorder between his fingers, his lips twitching as he started to turn to walk away.
My eyes narrowed even further and I crossed my arms over my B-cups, more than a little self-conscious. “I’m sure you know plenty about small things, old man. I hear with age appendages tend to shrivel.” I let my lips twitch as his had. “Like prunes.”
Stash choked.
Roman snorted.
I quickly backed away as Daniil turned in my direction, utterly honed on my face.
Luckily, Stash and Roman intercepted him and herded him away.
Artur was staring with stunned amusement. “You really don’t want to piss him off.” He jerked his head at his dad. “And you just did.”
I shrugged, staring at the tape recorder Daniil was pocketing. I had more, and an excellent memory, but still, that would be coming out of my paycheck. Not to mention, I knew Artur was right. I had possibly just started something that I was in no way prepared for.
Obsidian Liquor Page 1