by A. C. Arthur
“Another stripper was found dead last night,” Kalina said when it looked like everyone was finished eating and sipping on coffee or orange juice, as she glanced at Ary.
“I’m not surprised,” Rome said.
“The drug is already out there. It’s going to do its damage until it’s gone,” Nick chimed in.
Rome shook his head. “He’s not dead,” he said solemnly.
Nick sighed heavily. “I don’t think either one of them is. That would have been too easy.”
“Then they would have had to have gone to a hospital. You both said you wounded them. Even shadows don’t heal that fast on their own,” Ary told them.
“They couldn’t have gone to a regular hospital,” Kalina said. “So how would they have gotten treatment?”
Caprise put her mug down with a loud clanking sound against the marble table. “The same way he got your shaman here and your father to turn against you and the tribes. Money. It rules here in the States. All he has to do is flash some green and he’ll get whatever he wants.”
“Yeah, but at an even higher price.” Nick grimaced. “Money doesn’t buy silence, not for long anyway. So if he’s pulling in human doctors to help him out, he’s risking exposure.”
“You mean more exposure than you guys have already risked?” Caprise asked. “Have you seen the news lately? You’d think a spaceship landed in the middle of DC. They’re speculating about the sounds that were heard that night near Sabar’s house and on the highway. I read in the paper the other day that people are reporting sightings of weird-looking cat-like people. I’d say the exposure element is already out there.”
Kalina sighed. “Unfortunately, she’s right. How are we going to deal with that?”
“It might die down, just like the alien thing did years ago,” Nick said without much hope to his tone.
“Or it’s going to spiral out of control,” Rome added dourly.
“So where do we go from here?” Ary asked.
“Get Sabar and deal with the rest afterward.” Rome spoke with finality as he pushed his chair back and stood from the table. “And continue to make money so we can help the tribes.”
That was Nick’s cue to leave as well. They’d go into the city to work, leading their human lives as if they had no other care in the world. Kalina accepted her husband’s kiss and watched him walk out of the dining hall in his custom-made suit and shiny tie-up shoes. He looked as good as he had the day she’d first met him in his office. Only now, her heart swelled with more love and respect than she’d ever thought it possible to feel.
* * *
Ary walked with Nick as he stopped in their bedroom to get his suit jacket. It was charcoal gray today, with a crisp white shirt and gunmetal-gray tie that she’d finally gotten the hang of tying for him. In the morning they’d made love and lingered in bed for as long as possible before they knew Baxter would be knocking at their door. Then they had breakfast with friends who were more like family and she walked him to the door, watching as he drove off in his car for work.
Later in the morning she’d leave to attend her first classes at the university. She had a long way to go to achieve her goal of becoming a doctor, but loved that at least she was on her way. Late afternoon she’d return to Havenway and to the medical center where she checked supplies and studied some more, this time using the herbs Rome had shipped in for her. Already she’d begun taking care of the minor scrapes and bruises the guards-in-training received. And she was getting to know everyone at Havenway, the same way she’d known all the tribesman in the Gungi.
She didn’t miss Davi, didn’t think about him or his betrayals anymore. It was done. As for her mother, there were tinges of regret there, and a slight bit of longing, as Ary sometimes sat alone staring out a window, her hand on her quickly growing belly. It would have been nice to have her mother here with her during this time. But that was a useless thought.
“Be careful today,” Nick said, turning to her and pulling her into his arms.
“You say that every day,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He laughed. “I mean it every day, too. Make sure Leo sticks close, and come right back when you’re finished.”
“Yes sir,” she said, twisting her lips because this diatribe was getting old. She always told Leo where she was going, which didn’t matter because now that he knew she was pregnant Leo was as big a shadow to her as Nick. Like right now: He wasn’t in sight, but Ary knew that just around the corner he stood, ready and able to do whatever was necessary to save her and the baby’s lives. It was comforting and not as stifling as she’d thought when she originally came to the States.
“I’ll miss you,” Nick said, bringing his lips down to brush over hers.
“I’ll miss you more” was her soft reply.
When he pulled away he knelt down to kiss her stomach, another thing he did now on a daily basis.
Nick wanted a boy. Ary wanted a girl. Kalina said that was natural. Rome wished them a happy, healthy baby. Caprise jokingly prayed it wouldn’t look and act like Nick. X broodingly watched Ary like a hawk when he was around. He’d be the overprotective uncle, she knew instinctively.
And when Ary shut the door that day she leaned against it, closing her eyes and thinking of how happy she was at this very moment. How perfectly normal and quaint her life seemed to be.
The question of whether that would last didn’t dare creep into her mind.
* * *
Agent Dorian Wilson sat in his closet-size office, pictures spread out over his desk. His fingers moved in a pecking motion over the keys on the keyboard as he searched the hard drive for other photos he’d saved there. It was an old file he’d stumbled upon, just like the link connecting Roman Reynolds and his law firm to the accounts in Brazil. There seemed to be so many loose ends, all dangling in the air in front of him. Like they were teasing him, daring him to put the puzzle pieces together.
When the pictures flashed on the screen Dorian sat back in his chair staring, still in disbelief. The images were of a man—body, face, legs, arms of a man—with claws of an animal. Dorian wasn’t naive; he knew all about Photoshopping pictures and airbrushing images. But something told him this image wasn’t a fake. Or at the very least, if the claws were fake, they’d still been used in the commission of a crime.
Senator Baines and his daughter had been mauled to death. So had those two prostitutes they’d found a couple of months ago. The MPD was supposed to be working on the cases, forming some sort of task force to get to the bottom of the murders. But Dorian’s superiors had already called him in for a briefing. They thought all of this was connected somehow to Reynolds and his still-unproven cartel connections.
Dorian believed them.
So what he had in front of him now were more pictures, more connections, but nothing concrete. Except the business card that had been found on one of the bodies recovered.
Diamond Lauray Turner was twenty-one years old. She lived in a dingy hotel two blocks from Athena’s where she worked as a dancer. She’d graduated from high school and was taking online college courses working toward a degree in business administration. On paper she looked like a good girl.
Dorian picked up one of the photos from the MPD’s homicide file. Half her face had been ripped off. On this paper, Diamond looked like a statistic. And Dorian didn’t like it.
In one hand he held a photo, in the other the business card. He’d read the name over and over again, feeling his adrenaline kick up a notch each time.
Xavier Santos-Markland was the name on the card. Special agent at the Federal Bureau of Investigations.
Statements from one of Diamond’s co-workers said a man approached them in the alley behind Athena’s the last night Diamond was seen alive. She said the guy took a special liking to Diamond and wanted her to do some special favors for him; he’d told her to call him whenever she needed something. The other girls claimed they warned Diamond to stay away from the guy, but she was
young and stupid and probably hooked up with him anyway.
Dorian prayed she hadn’t. Then again, praying for Diamond was too little, too late. Now all he could do was seek justice for her. And that’s precisely what he planned to do, even if it meant arresting one of his own. He picked up the phone and dialed the personal cell phone number of Special Agent Xavier Santos-Markland.
Read on for an excerpt from the next book by A.C. Arthur
PASSION’S PREY
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
X had the perfect view.
T&A (tits and ass) were bountiful in Athena’s, one of Washington, D.C.’s premiere adult nightclubs. When he’d walked in, the two bouncers standing on either side of the doorway looked him up and down. They’d even frisked him to make sure he wasn’t carrying a weapon. Little did they know he didn’t need one—he was a weapon. A hostess, which X thought was a nice touch to the establishment, walked him to his seat. Five feet, ten inches tall, tiny waist, thick thighs, rounded ass, and breasts that made his mouth water—just what the doctor ordered for his state of mind.
Which he’d rank close to being fucked completely up.
He’d consumed an entire bottle of Hennessey while sitting alone in his apartment. But because he was a Shadow Shifter, he wasn’t falling-on-his-face drunk. Instead, he was mellow to the point of wanting to pull this physically perfect female onto his lap and give her every pent-up stroke his dick had stored for the last few months. He was in that place that he lingered in sometimes after the dream. The lonely dark space that threatened to suck him in if he didn’t get a hold on something tangible, something that could handle all that was pent-up inside him.
X slid into the booth directly to the right side of the stage and watched as the hostess placed a slim drink list and a napkin in front of him, leaning forward so her ample breasts jiggled in his face.
She had a ready smile, thin lips, and eyes that looked like she was used to having sex—normal sex. That definitely was not what X had in mind. Not tonight.
No, after the day he’d had, he wanted—was at the point now where he desperately needed—something more.
So he ordered another Hennessey, straight, and sat back in the booth, waiting for the next act to hit the stage. He watched with one hand on his thigh, close to his semi-erect dick, all the T&A on display, because as far as appetizers went, Athena’s was doing a pretty damn good job.
The lights dimmed, and members of the audience began cheering. The next act was about to begin. There was a flurry of lights dancing around the room in slow motion as the first notes of a sultry tune began to play. The spotlight stopped on the pole, shined to perfection. The crowd went wild, jumping up out of their seats already. X remained perfectly still.
He’d picked up a scent.
Her leg appeared first, wearing a strappy silver number with heels that looked too high to be legal. X’s gaze followed her calves to her toned thighs as she’d kicked her leg out to line up with the pole. He shifted in his seat, adjusting his growing length.
The spotlight spread wider, the music’s sexy slow rhythm pulsing throughout the room. Her thighs were killer, the plump globe of her ass only slightly covered in the silver sparkling boy shorts as she jumped onto the pole and did a twisting move that put her entire body upside down, her legs splitting in mid-air. The crowd roared, but X tuned out their sounds. Dollar bills were already flying through the air, but X didn’t reach into his pocket to retrieve any of his own. Instead, his eyes stayed trained on the body. Her skin was a milky, heavily creamed coffee complexion, the hoop ring threading through her navel sparkling as if in response to the crowd. He had no idea what the material was that was able to hold her heavy breasts inside the bra that matched her shorts, but the plump mounds gyrated with her movement, giving everyone a view of what could possibly be her most prized possessions.
His breath froze, his gut clenching when his gaze fixed on her face. She’d just turned so that she was upright, long, ebony hair sliding down her back like a cloak. And even though her make-up was plentiful, making her look like an exotic temptation, there was no mistaking who she was.
Caprise.
His fists clenched on his thighs as his dick threatened to break free of the zipper that held it back. Questions filled his mind, but Caprise alone filled his sight. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t move to grab her ass off that stage, and couldn’t open his mouth—now salivating with lust—to yell at her.
Once again she bounced on the pole, this time extending her legs forward, then opening them so her crotch was displayed. Lucky for the covering of the shorts, he thought with only minor relief. That was short-lived. In the next second she was off the pole, ripping the shorts from her ass to reveal a tiny string with more sparkles disappearing into the curvy cheeks of her ass.
A man tried to jump onto the stage, money in hand. His mouth was hanging open, eyes all but bulging out. X felt his cat roar and slapped a hand on the table in front of him. A bouncer grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him back, dropping him into his seat. X let out a quick sigh. When his gaze returned to the stage, her bra had been removed to reveal pasties on her nipples, more sparkling, as if that were what he was supposed to look at. She was basically naked, he thought, swallowing hard in an effort to regain his senses. When her hands grabbed her breasts and she leaned over, shaking them to the crowd, X’s sharp teeth pricked his lower lip. He wanted her. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. She licked her finger, traced it along the small patch of material at her juncture, and X had to drag a hand down his face.
The rest of the show was lost on him as he’d stood and made his way to the side of the stage. There was a bouncer there giving him the don’t-even-try-it look. On impulse, X flashed his FBI badge, and the bouncer, intelligent character he was, took a step back. Vaguely he realized her music had ended. He was more focused on the fact that she was sashaying her naked ass off the stage. Because the bouncer had taken a hike, X was able to slip through the STAFF ONLY door and was right there the moment Caprise stepped those sex-on-stilts shoes of hers on the floor.
He grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t say a word,” he warned when she looked up at him in surprise. “Not one word!”
Also by
A.C. Arthur
Temptation Rising
Praise for TEMPTATION RISING
“Deliciously edgy, sexy, and certainly not to be missed. A.C. Arthur knows how to deliver the heat.”
—Lora Leigh, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“The shifter universe just got sexier with the kick-off to Arthur’s sizzling new series, Shadow Shifters. This launch book introduces an intriguing cast of characters functioning in the human world, yet keeping their true natures a secret. The sparks between this hero and heroine are plentiful, but developing a relationship is tougher. Looking forward to the next installment!”
—RT Book Reviews
“Temptation Rising has everything a good book should: action, adventure, suspense, mystery, and fiery-hot passion.”
—Romance Junkies
“This book has depth and an interesting storyline, complete with unique characters that will keep you entranced, starting at page one.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“A.C. Arthur begins a new series with a bang.”
—Sensual Reads
About the Author
A.C. ARTHUR was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, where she currently lives with her husband and three children. An active imagination and a love for reading encouraged her to begin writing in high school and she hasn’t stopped since. Her debut novel, Object of His Desire, was written when a picture of an Italian villa sparked the idea of an African-American/Italian hero. Determined to bring a new edge to romance, she continues to develop intriguing plots, sensual love scenes, racy characters, and fresh dialogue—thus keeping the readers on their toes! Visit www.acarthur.net.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organiza
tions, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SEDUCTION’S SHIFT
Copyright © 2012 by A.C. Arthur.
Excerpt from Passion’s Prey copyright © 2012 by A.C. Arthur.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 9781466815001
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / October 2012
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.