by Jackie Ivie
“Yes?”
Her voice shook. That was embarrassing. But at least it worked. But nothing stopped the stupid tears. She blinked constantly and with efficiency. He was still blurred and indistinct.
“You will be taken care of. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Bram spoke for her.
“Anything else?”
“Wait.” Marielle’s heart was a solid throb of pain.
“Yes, my dear?”
“What is the punishment if...he doesn’t do what you want? What...exactly?”
Bram turned to her. Leaned down and placed his forehead against hers. Breathed each shuddering breath with her. The only difference was he had dry eyes.
“I will not kill another kid, Marielle. I can’t. The price of redemption is too high. It is the one thing I regret from my actual life. It has haunted me for decades. No level of penance can absolve it. Trust me.”
“Bramwell,” she beseeched.
“It’s all right, love. I promise.”
He looked from her over at the shadowed figure. Marielle did the same. The figure hadn’t moved, but he looked bigger somehow. More menacing.
“Are you going to kill him?” she whispered.
“Well. That is up to him, my dear. All these years, I thought your mate was a melancholy, reclusive sort. I didn’t know he was searching for redemption. He needs to atone. Pay a price. Perhaps I’m setting that price. Right here. And right now.”
His sword moved. The blade sent flashes of light. And then he placed it atop the table.
“Bramwell!” Marielle flung herself against him and started sobbing. After a moment, Bram’s arms went about her. She’d never felt anything as wondrous. Nor as painful.
“Is there life after death, Akron?” Bram asked from somewhere above her.
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure? But...you know everything, Sir.”
Akron chuckled. As if this was amusing. And he wasn’t killing the ability to laugh with every word.
“I can only know what I’ve experienced. Since I’ve never died, I cannot answer you. Quite frankly, I’m hoping the Hindus are correct, and that there is such a thing as reincarnation. And I wouldn’t like to go into particulars, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well. Marielle? You need to leave now.”
“No!” She clung tighter. “You can’t do this! You can’t leave me! I...I love you!”
His arms tightened at her declaration. Her feet left the floor with his hug. She loved him. Totally. Completely. Overwhelmingly. It wasn’t a wonderful feeling at all. It was heartbreak. Desolation. And absolute agony.
“Oh, Bramwell. And Miss O’Donnall. Before we proceed, can I get an opinion?”
“About what?”
The words came from both throats. Simultaneously. They turned toward Akron in a concurrent move, as well. Akron moved closer to the light source. It hit his chin. He was smiling. Marielle’s heart felt like it already had the sword point stabbing into it. Sending pain through every vein. Into every limb.
“My suit. I just picked it up in Milan. Unlike some of the associates, I do like to update my style. Often. Helps me...fit in.”
“You will never fit in, Akron.”
“Please don’t do this,” Marielle inserted.
“I have to. I have a date for drinks in about five minutes. At the Keno lounge. Downstairs.”
“Five minutes?” The word carried every bit of her agony.
“Well. I am cutting it short, but I can always bypass the elevator. I don’t think Missus Susan Stimson is the type you leave waiting. Extremely wealthy, beautiful divorcees usually aren’t.”
“You’re meeting—?”
“What did you just say?”
Marielle’s voice was faint as she interrupted Bram’s question. She was finding out that shock was a physical force, too. It hit like a huge wave of water. Chilling. Refreshing. Renewing.
“What did you just say?” she asked again, her voice stronger this time.
“I said I have an appointment with Missus Susan Stimson. For drinks. She has an appointment with death. This is what happens when you hire an attorney and try to extort more funds from your ex-husband. This is also what happens when your ex-husband is a billionaire with a link to our network. I would allow Bramwell to handle it once he comes out of his shock, but he is a bit... how shall I put it? Noticeable? Yes, that’s a good descriptor. There are some men who seem born to wear western fashion. Your mate is one of them. That does tend to create unnecessary attention where I don’t wish any. Or do I need to be more clear, you two?”
“Oh, no. No. I forgot.”
“What did you forget, my dear?’ Akron asked her.
“The third ex-Missus Stimson. Her name is Susan, too. Oh! Oh! Bramwell! How could I have been so stupid?”
“You were not stupid, Miss O’Donnall. You were a necessary part of this. Wasn’t she, Bramwell?”
Bram hadn’t moved. He had a thunderstruck look on his face. Shock must have affected him a lot differently.
“Don’t you see? Bramwell! He’s not going to execute you! The assignment is for a forty-two year-old woman. Not the Susan I know.”
“You knew?” Bram’s voice was low and rumbling as he addressed his boss. “You knew I had the wrong assumption? And you still put me through hell?”
“You were willing to die rather than hurt a child, Bramwell. Lose your newfound love. Leave her to a lifetime of loneliness. Cease existing. And why? Because you needed to. That is what you required for your redemption. So. I gave it to you.”
“I…don’t know what to say.”
“You are a beautiful couple. Congratulations. I’d take her shopping if I were you, Bramwell. You two really need to update your style. Now. If you will excuse me, I’ve got a little drink to spike. A death to oversee. And then a flight back to New York. Good bye.”
He didn’t leave. He just dematerialized. Or something close. Marielle was looking open-mouthed at the desk where he’d been one moment, and the next he was gone. She felt like she’d just gone through the wringer on an old washing machine. Over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Passed through a hurricane. And somehow survived all of it unscathed.
Physically.
“Marielle?”
“Yes?”
“I truly don’t know what to say.”
“Your boss is an asshole.”
“That works.”
He snorted. And then he was laughing. And then he was spinning with her in his arms. They left the floor. She didn’t miss it. He didn’t have to tell her to hold on this time, either. She wasn’t going anywhere but with him.
Period.
-o0o-
About the Author
Jackie Ivie lives in the enormous state of Alaska with her husband and three very spoiled pets. She started her writing career writing hot highland historical romances for Kensington Publishing. There are now ten “Clans series” books, available in seven languages. Keeping her head in the clouds most of the time, Jackie now spends her time researching, developing, and writing her paranormal series – the Vampire Assassin League, as well as her other historical line – the Brocade Collection.
Jackie loves hearing from fans, who can contact her at www.jackieivie.com or www.VampireAssassinLeague.com
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