Shadowed Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  It wasn’t an issue to take the distance to my office on foot. I had some work to do, and I wasn’t going to do it at the Lair.

  Circling around and watching for those who might be watching for me was more time consuming than the five-mile jog to my place of business. And yes, there were two cars. One on the main cross street, another in the miserable armpit of a strip mall across from me. The strip mall mostly stayed in business because of a ‘massage’ parlor where a couple of female shifters and one male offered their services to anybody willing to pony up the dough. They ran a clean ship and I was well aware of the fact that they kept an eye on me, thanks to my relationship with their alpha.

  The other businesses were a tax office—they were everywhere—and a diner.

  There used to be a bookstore, but it hadn’t been able to stay open. That kind of sucked because I loved to read. I know one of the girls from the massage parlor had gone in there pretty often, too.

  A hooker and a smart-mouthed swordswoman had been their best customers. Probably not enough to keep them rolling.

  The men watching me had opted for a beat-up car of indiscriminate color, and a make that didn’t particularly stand out. And yet, standing there with one shoulder braced against a utility pole that hadn’t been connected to anything in operation for over a decade, my gaze zeroed in on that car as if it had been a brand new Rolls Royce, fresh off the line and painted some atrocious color like lime-green.

  “Does the alpha’s pretty lady need a distraction?”

  The voice came from behind, low and discreet.

  I glanced back, knowing that whoever it was couldn’t see me. I was still hiding behind the veil of invisibility. But that didn’t keep whoever it was from smelling or hearing me.

  It was Jana, the girl from the massage parlor who liked to read and her male counterpart, Rogan.

  They sauntered up the sidewalk at a slow pace, without a care in the world, looking at each other.

  But the question had been directed at me.

  “Did the Lair call you?”

  “Hmmm…” Jana twirled her hair around her finger. “We were told you might be heading this way. Should we distract them?”

  Well, it might be easier. “Sure. Have at it. But don’t needle them.”

  Rogan flashed a wide grin, one that made his too-pretty face even prettier. It was no wonder the massage parlor was in no danger of going under. It had been my experience that the cats were rather…odd about their sex lives. They weren’t at all prudes, but it seemed like until they were ready to settle down, most of them avoided getting involved sexually with any one person. But they were also intensely…well…sexual.

  Jana had once told me that she provided a service and nothing more. That was all she was interested in, too. She’d had a mate, and now that he was gone? She didn’t want anybody else.

  They moved past me, Jana’s hips swinging while Rogan rested a hand at the base of her spine, just above her butt. She wore a pair of shorts so brief they could barely be called that. Panties was almost more accurate. The tank top was form-fitting, while her hair spilled down strong, sleek shoulders. She was beautiful and sexy, and undeterred by the stoic faces of the men staring out at her when she paused by the car.

  “Hello, gentlemen. Now you boys do know that this isn’t exactly the kind of establishment meant to…cater to your needs?”

  While she was providing a very, very tempting distraction, I shoved away from the utility pole.

  I didn’t go in through the front.

  They might notice the door swinging open, no matter how intriguing Jana’s bust line was.

  There was a window on the side—in the narrow bathroom stall—tucked up high. It was so small, it didn’t look like anybody but a child could fit through it.

  I could.

  I’d done it before, several times over, just in case.

  I liked having escape routes.

  Or in this case, entry routes.

  Getting the window to open from the outside took a little more finesse, and I mentally scolded myself for not making such plans. I’d have to put some thought into this, but then again, I hadn’t foreseen I’d have to break into my own office.

  Regardless, I was inside in under ninety seconds. Closing the window behind me, I stood there for a few seconds, taking everything in. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

  Everything was as still and as quiet as I’d left it.

  Except for the note taped to my mirror.

  “What the—” I bit back the near soundless whisper as I eased closer, staring at the note.

  As you’ve demonstrated considerable intelligence thus far, I will assume you came in through the window. Please exit the same way immediately. Your office has ears. Do not go home. Those same electronic ears are there as well.

  The script was elegant and flowing, an old-world style that didn’t belong on the ripped-off sheet of recycled paper.

  A shiver went down my spine and I grabbed the note, immediately turning back to the window.

  Ninety seconds to get in.

  Getting out took far less.

  It didn’t matter. The car across the street was already whipping around and speeding my way.

  They wouldn’t see me, but that wouldn’t keep them from searching and now they’d know—Whitmore would know—that I was leery of something. Of course, if Whitmore wasn’t up to anything, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’d have egg on my face for doubting somebody who was paying me damn well.

  But if he was up to something...

  Fuck.

  I didn’t leave the area.

  I could have. Maybe I should have. But I wanted to know what was going on. Circling around, I cut across the street, keeping a wide berth between me and the shifters at the massage parlor. When one of them casually glanced my way, I said, “Stay back. I just want to know what they are up to.”

  My phone buzzed.

  Damon calling.

  I ignored it.

  No doubt somebody had notified their mighty ruler.

  No doubt that same somebody could let him know I was all hale and hearty.

  I was also pissed off. Two hard bodies in custom suits had broken down my door when nobody had answered it.

  “I’m over here, dumbasses.”

  Across the parking lot, Jana hid a smile behind her hand. Rogan ran his fingers down her thigh. “It’s a beautiful afternoon, Jana.”

  “Yes. Too bad they’re human. I could have used some company until my next client comes in.”

  My hearing was acute and over their playful banter, I could hear disgruntled voices. “The alarm went off. The bathroom window—voices.”

  “I know, I know. But there’s nobody here!”

  “Son of a…” The speaker bit the rest of his words off as a phone rang. I had the pleasure of listening to a one-sided conversation, because the distance was too far for me to pick up the caller’s voice. “Yes, sir. We…no, we came inside. Nobody’s here. We…ah, well, we busted the door down. Nobody answered—yes. Yes, there were witnesses.”

  Panic lit up inside me and I looked over at Jana.

  Pulling out my phone, I punched in one message, then another. Jana’s eyes came to me before going back to the men across the road. She gave a lazy shrug after reading the phone.

  She got another message a few seconds later and her response to it was far from lazy.

  Both she and Rogan was stiff-limbed as they stood up and retreated inside the parlor.

  I punched another message into Damon.

  Tell me you’ve got people close—too many to make it worth their while to do anything.

  Damon’s response was short.

  I’m on it. I don’t want you there.

  I bet he didn’t. Too bad. Instead of answering, I shoved my phone into my pocket and continued to glare across the street. One of them had come out and was slowly crossing the street. The other one was still on the phone.

  If he even thought about making a move toward
Jana—

  A long black car pulled up right in front of him, and arrowed its way into three spaces, taking up much of the parking room boasted by the massage parlor and effectively blocking it.

  At once, I felt better…and worse.

  The door opened and a familiar dark head appeared.

  Damon stared out over the hood of the car and unerringly, his gaze came my way, lingered for the briefest of moments.

  He must have been heading this way when I called. I had little doubt as to why, either. Jana had notified him.

  Slicking my palms down the sides of my pants, I hoped the mortals didn’t do anything to escalate this.

  “Jana, Rogan. Your presence is required at the Lair.” Damon said that statement flatly and without emotion, barely sparing a look. When the others from the parlor appeared in the doorway, looking confused, Damon nodded at them. “You too, ladies. Sorry. You’ll have to close up shop for a bit.”

  “But...”

  Jana raised a hand. “Of course.” Her smile was strained. “Whatever our Alpha wishes.”

  The others must have picked up on her tension, because they meekly agreed.

  “Excuse me, son.” The man came around the car, smiling a smarmy smile. “I had an…appointment.”

  “Son?” Damon rounded on them, big arms folding across his chest.

  The smile wobbled, then died entirely as he fell back a step.

  “Appointment has been canceled,” Damon said, his tone so condescending, even I felt the sting. “Get out of my town.”

  The man jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “How dare you—”

  Damon took two slow steps forward and dipped his head. “You’re in East Orlando. Know whose word is law here?” He raked him with a scathing look. “It’s mine. And I’m not your son…boy. I’m the Alpha here and I was fighting my way in this world while you still had your mama’s milk on your chin.”

  Now the human’s face was a mix of embarrassment and rage. “Now you listen here—”

  “It doesn’t work that way…son.” Damon smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “Again…I’m the Alpha and it’s my town. You want your words to matter, drive about ten miles west and find somebody who gives a damn. Here? I’m the law.”

  “I had an appointment,” the man said, his voice stiff.

  “That a fact.” Damon smiled. It was a smile that would have warned even the most foolish to get the hell back. “See that sign?”

  Owned and operated by a person of non-human blood. Proceed at your own risk.

  “I’m tempted to give you an appointment even though I know you’re lying. You reek of it. But if you want to go on record saying you’ve paid money…” He slanted a look at Jana as if questioning her sanity.

  “He hasn’t, Alpha.” She kept her chin up, eying the suited man as if he was the contagious one—not the other way around.

  “Nice to know. As it’s illegal for any NH to offer skin to skin services to a human—and it’s illegal for you to request them.” Damon lifted a straight black brow. “We are being recorded. Did you request them?”

  “It’s…this…” Now he was fuming, shooting a dark glare at Jana. “This is a massage parlor, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely.” Jana didn’t bat an eyelash. “But many humans think it’s possible to catch the virus simply through touch. Thus…we advertise our services as skin to skin.”

  Red in the face now, he backed up a step, but he wasn’t quite ready to back down.

  The arrival of his partner that ended the standoff.

  “Alpha.” The second man offered Damon a polite nod.

  The first one looked over at him, his mouth opened in outrage, but he was ignored.

  “My apologies. My partner doesn’t seem to understand the…intricacies involved here.” He gave a modified, stiff bow. “We’ll be on our way. We meant no offense.”

  “Offense has been taken.” Damon cracked his neck one way, then the other. “I don’t know why you’ve been watching the office across the street? But you should know…she’s part of the Clan.”

  “You—we—what are you implying?”

  “So noted.” Again, the second man spoke over the first. He all but dragged the other one to the car.

  As they retreated, Damon settled in, arms crossed over his chest and making it clear that he wasn’t going to leave until he saw their hides peeling out.

  They got the message.

  Once they were gone, Jana and Rogan breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Don’t go getting too relaxed,” Damon said. “You’re going to the Lair for the time being.”

  Rogan stiffened.

  “Argue with me and I’ll knock you senseless, Rogan.” His eyes flashed gold. “Don’t like it? Too bad. I don’t blame you. It sucks and you got caught up in some kind of mess, but you either go in or you get your ass left out to dry. FYI—there’s really no or here. You’re going in even if I have to take you in.”

  He waited a beat to see if they understood. Then he nodded toward the building. “Pack up what you want to take with you.”

  While they were doing that, Damon turned and unerringly faced me, despite the fact that he couldn’t see me.

  “You sure as hell found a mess this time, didn’t you?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Are you trying to get me killed? Are you mad at me? Or are you just still jealous that I slept with Damon before you did?”

  Shanelle and Scott were standing side by side at my front door.

  “It’s not who he slept with first.” I gave her an easy smile. “It’s who he’s sleeping with now. And it ain’t you.”

  She rolled her eyes and leaned against the door jam. “Hurry it up. He put an all-eyes-out on the radio earlier and he had that snarl in his voice. That snarl only comes out for you, honey.”

  “I’m touched.” Damon hadn’t lingered long at the massage parlor. Doyle had shown up to take over escorting the shifters—and presumably, me—in.

  I’d told Doyle to pass the message to Damon that I’d be along very shortly. I was telling the truth. I would be along very shortly. But that didn’t mean I was going straight to the Lair.

  Since apparently whoever—mostly likely Whitmore or his possible impersonator—knew that I’d been in my office; there was no reason not to go by my house. It didn’t matter if it was being watched. I had things that couldn’t be left there unprotected.

  I’d gone to a diner right in the thick of shifter territory and called two people I figured would be useful to have with me. Shanelle had no reason to think Whitmore was up to anything. She still thought he was digging into all the evils behind Blackstone. Maybe he was. We had gotten some useful information on that hell, thanks to him. But maybe he wasn’t. Getting her to go with me served a dual purpose. He wouldn’t suspect me of taking her along if I no longer trusted him, I figured. Hoped.

  And Scott was one of Damon’s most highly trusted men—that translated to one of his most deadly pieces of work.

  My gut told me that something wasn’t sunny with the man who’d hired me, but the man was also crafty. He would have done his homework on the Alpha, and he’d know that Damon Lee wasn’t somebody to fuck with. He also wouldn’t want to show his hand to Shanelle—somebody he’d been cultivating for a long time.

  All that put together made me think I’d be safe enough to go to my place and grab few essentials that hadn’t already been taken to the Lair. With the exception of the apartment itself.

  It had been my home longer than anyplace else and leaving it ripped at me.

  Damon was home now, though.

  That was what I had to focus on. There was no reason to keep delaying the inevitable, so I had to move certain…items.

  I definitely didn’t want to leave those items alone since I had eyes watching my place.

  Scott had stared them down when we climbed out of the car and every so often, he made a display of looking back at them with a certain amount of contemptuous disdain
in his eyes.

  They hadn’t moved.

  They hadn’t even made a phone call.

  Shanelle had noticed the device planted near the doorframe and pulled it down, frowning as she pointed out, “This is high end—military issue. I’ve only seen the like a few times.”

  I didn’t ask her where. I had a good idea already. If she put two and two together and came to the same conclusion, then I’d answer her questions…should she ask them.

  For now, I had a weapons cache to unload.

  It was secreted away in my room, hidden from prying eyes by both man-made means and witch-made. Once I broke the charms that protected it, the power was enough to make my teeth ache but I ignored the gut-deep instinct to just pull back and leave these ugly treasures be.

  Weapons had once called to me, whether they were the kind of weapons I should use…or the kind I should hide.

  These were the kind that needed to be hidden.

  Once I had them all laid out on the floor, including a blade I knew only as Death, I swiped the back of my hand over my forehead. Sweat had formed there, a side effect of exposure to their power and from resisting the call some of them put out. It had nothing to do with my lost connection to weapons, and everything to do with their particular magic.

  These weapons were deadly—their power ranging from a dose of cyanide to that of a nuclear bomb…well, a bomb with a limited range. The spells that had kept them hidden had been crafted by Justin, subtle and quiet, refined over time, until nobody but those who knew these weapons were here would even know to look for them—or possibly a witch stronger than Justin looking to cause a lot of trouble.

  Since trouble didn’t typically run in a witch’s blood, I’d always felt safe leaving them here. There were a few bad eggs out there, but they were rarer than one might think.

  But then again, Chaundry had been quite a bit of trouble.

  The concealment spell simply kept the weapons hidden—but if anybody had managed to seek them out, the destructive spell would have made them wish they’d have left everything alone. It would incinerate anybody who triggered the spell, but the spell couldn’t be triggered without intent. Nasty business, true, but decent people wouldn’t want go trying to steal weapons like these. On a base level, they’d sense the first defensive spells and avoid going any closer. Decent people wouldn’t even want them existing, save for maybe the Druidic bow.