by Olivia Arran
“I thought... Shit. If you’d just listen.” He splayed his hands out, beseeching me.
“Go on then.”
His phone chimed, signaling a message. He snarled at the small screen, frustration pouring off him. “We don’t have time, not now. I’ll tell you everything after, and then you can decide. Will you hear me out after?”
After would be too late. I would be gone. But I nodded, pushing through his arms to grab a pair of pants off the chair. Tugging them on, I shrugged into a sweatshirt, zipping it up. “After what, exactly?”
Cole’s face had softened with relief. “You’ll see. Come on, you won’t want to miss this.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cole
Tasha had acted normally, well, as normally as could be expected given the circumstances. And she’d agreed to my request. On the surface, it all appeared good, but I was trained in this. Sniffing out lies and emotions—it was what I did. And I had the bond feeding me information. Tasha was lying to me.
I shoved the knowledge to the back of my mind. We were going to talk later, and I’d get to the bottom of whatever it was that was holding her back. We were true mates, and we could get through this, whatever this was. If we didn’t… then I would have to come to terms with the fact that I had destroyed my only chance at happiness.
I took a deep breath, filtering the simmering emotions and locking them away.
“In here,” I murmured, pushing open a door.
Tasha slipped past me, her continued silence since leaving the room unsettling me more than I’d like to admit.
Focus!
Following her inside the room, I clicked the door shut, sealing us in.
“What is this place?” she said, turning around slowly, taking it all in. The room was an armory, among other things, filled to the brim with every piece of equipment an operative could want. Tactical equipment, firearms, high-tech gadgets—it was a motherfucking playground enforced in triple-strength steel. It was a perfect lockbox that just happened to be the size of a large garage.
Greg swung around in his chair, his face glowing with barely constrained enthusiasm. “Welcome to the control center. This is where the magic happens.” He indicated the large spread of monitors on the desk.
“Is that—?”
Greg pointed at the monitor she’d indicated, double tapping the screen. “Abel, yes. And Vin’s out there too.”
“Why?”
“Ask your man. He’s the one orchestrating all of this.” Angel spoke up for the first time. He was sprawled on a couch in the far corner of the room, giving every indication of a man at ease. That was, if you didn’t know him. From here I could see that he was at about an eight out of ten on the scale of pissed off.
Scar leaned over and thumped him on the arm, flicking a grin at her sister in solidarity. “He can’t help being an ass. It’s written into his Alpha-hole genes.”
“What’s going on?” Tasha directed her question at me this time.
“Take a look at monitor two,” I murmured.
She leaned over Greg’s shoulder, her hair swinging loose in waves. “What am I looking for?”
I stifled an inappropriate groan at the sight of her denim-clad ass swaying right in front of my eyes. “Keep watching…”
Seconds passed, a frown creasing her forehead as she stared at the screen. Then she blinked, astonishment deepening the furrows. “Is that—?”
I nodded. “Hello, Jorge,” I murmured. “Welcome back.”
Natasha
I watched with mounting fascination as my co-star crept out of the bush clad head to toe in black, soft moonlight playing on his face and highlighting his look of grim determination. He exited off the screen and appeared on the next one.
“What’s he doing?” I watched him creep up the steps to the house, his shoulders hunched as he reached for the door.
Then he was inside.
Cole reached around me and tapped a screen, indicating where Jorge was now. He was crossing the dimly lit hall. He hesitated at the foot of the stairs, his face tilting as he glanced upward.
“Don’t even think about it. You haven’t got the guts, bottom-feeding maggot,” Cole growled behind me.
“Of course he won’t,” Angel scoffed, crowding around the desk. “Look, he’s on the move.”
“Will someone please explain what’s happening?” I asked again, my tone sharp with confusion.
“Jorge fell for the bait. He’s here to see Mr. No-Name Assassin.”
I glanced at Cole, then back at the screen. Jorge was heading straight for the basement door, his path not deviating.
“Why—?” My question died on my lips as reality stared me in the face. “No…” The denial came out as a whisper, lacking substance. Because I knew he was right. It had been Jorge. Everything from the threatening letters, to the poison and explosion, to the assassin trying to kill me, Jorge had set it up. “Why did he do it?”
An arm slid around my waist, hugging me against a firm, unyielding chest. “Don’t cry, Tasha. He’s not worth it.”
I looked up at Cole, soaking in his warmth. I felt cold, so damn cold. “I’m not crying...” His features swam before my eyes. “Dammit!” I swiped at my tears, brushing them away. “I don’t understand. Why would he do it? Before this job we’d never even met! Why would he hate me enough to have me killed?”
“I’m pretty sure I know why, but I’m hoping we can get it on tape for the police.” Cole’s voice was grim as he turned his attention back to the monitors.
Jorge had reached the prisoner’s cell and had paused, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.
“Poor chap looks like he’s about to have a heart attack,” Vin spoke from behind us, his British accent sounding even more clipped than usual.
“You’re meant to be outside.” Cole didn’t even bother to turn around, his gaze riveted on the screen.
“Abel’s got it under control. You know how he gets. I thought I’d shift back and wait in the hallway, give our uninvited guest a little surprise if he decides to run for it.”
“Okay.”
At Cole’s affirmative, I heard Vin turn to leave. “Vin—” I broke off, heat flooding my cheeks when I found myself face-to-face with a very naked Vin. I gulped, not knowing where to look, finally settling on his nose.
“Wise choice,” Cole whispered in my ear, sending shivers racing down my spine.
“Thank you,” I eventually blurted out. It had been a while since I’d lived with a pack and I’d forgotten about their blasé attitude toward nudity.
Vin winked at me. “Don’t mention it,” he called over his shoulder as he left the room.
A loud sigh sounded from Scar’s corner of the room. “It would be a waste,” she murmured.
I considered her. “Okay, I’ll bite. What would be a waste?”
She turned in her chair to face me, her face all seriousness. “To not appreciate such a fine ass! That ass needs worshiping. I wouldn’t mind a bite…or two.”
Greg coughed, the sound suspiciously like a strangled growl.
Scar’s eye’s widened, her lips parting in what looked like shock. Then the corner of her mouth tilted up in a pleased smirk.
“He’s in.” Angel’s words tugged me back to the screen.
“Flick the sound on, Greg,” Cole ordered.
I realized belatedly that his arms were still locked loosely around my waist, and that he hadn’t let go.
And that I didn’t want him to.
Greg jabbed a switch and Jorge’s voice filled the room.
“You let yourself get caught. What kind of assassin are you?” he sneered, pacing back and forth in front of the prisoner.
The hunched-over man slowly lifted his head, one pale blue eye squinting in the shadowy light. The other eye was sealed shut, a bloody, puffy mess. Blood coated his cheeks, and his lips were swollen and cracked. He leaned forward, his shoulder straining against the ropes that bound him to the chair.
&nb
sp; “You shouldn’t have come here,” he hissed, spitting bloody phlegm onto the floor.
“I had to come here, to fix the mess that you’ve gotten us into. I can’t have you—”
“I haven’t talked, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m a professional,” the man snapped back.
Jorge stopped in front of the other man, his face hardening into a mask of self-pity. “I’ve got to protect myself. I’ve got too much to lose. If they offered you enough, you’d break, and God knows that bitch has enough money.” He paused, seemingly lost in thought. “I have a plan.”
“They know you’re here…”
“Be quiet, I’m thinking. They don’t know anything. They’re idiots, the whole lot of them. Just a bunch of thugs that probably don’t have more than one brain cell between them.”
“You’re underestimating them—”
“Muscle-bound idiots, all of them! You included! I was going to free you and let you finish the job, but on second thought, maybe that’s not a good idea…” He narrowed his eyes, his hand reaching inside his jacket to pull out a large knife.
The blade glinted in the glare of the flickering light. He turned it in his hand, face drawn in thought.
The other man leaned forward as far as his bindings allowed. “Free me then. I’ll finish what you paid me for.”
“No.” Jorge had barely uttered the word before he drove the knife into the man’s stomach. Pulling it out, he stabbed again.
A sickening wet sound filled the room. I flinched from the screen, burying my face against Cole’s chest. A hand stroked my back, moving in soothing circles.
“He’s on the move,” Greg snapped out.
“That wasn’t what I expected,” Cole murmured. He sounded concerned.
I tilted my head back. “What did you expect?”
“For him to try and free the assassin. I didn’t think he had it in him to do the dirty work himself.”
I pulled my shoulders back, pushing my squeamishness away. “So, what now?”
“He’s heading upstairs,” Greg reported.
I felt Cole tense against me.
I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “What do you need me to do?” No way was I letting Jorge get away with this.
“He needs you to be bait,” Scar eventually said, breaking the silence.
“He’s checking every room on the first floor,” Greg’s voice was filled with tension.
“I can do that.” At least, I think I can.
“We need his confession. He hasn’t mentioned your name yet. Without it, a lawyer might be able to get him off. On your charges, at least,” Greg said, glancing away from the monitor.
“No! I can get a confession out of him,” Cole ground out, his tone final.
“And how will that look to a jury?” I whispered. “Why do you want this to go to court anyway? I thought shifters dealt their own form of justice, an eye for an eye?”
“We do, most of the time. But Cole thought you’d prefer it this way.” Angel didn’t sound impressed.
“Making allowances for human squeamishness?” I mused.
Cole looked uncomfortable under my scrutiny. “Say the word and I’ll take him out. Put an end to this,” he murmured, his eyes glowing vivid green, a tic working in his jaw.
I searched my heart for guidance, for what was right. Jorge had tried to kill me, and had nearly succeeded. Cole had been hurt more than once. I wanted him to suffer, to pay for what he had done. Did I want him dead? Maybe, a little voice whispered in my ear.
“Tasha, what do you want me to do?” Cole asked again, his voice strained, his arms tightening around my waist.
“I’m thinking, give me a second. And, wait a second, you have a camera in my bedroom?” Heat flooded my face.
“He’s nearly finished with the first floor,” Greg warned. “Only two more rooms to go and then he’ll be moving up to the third floor. And don’t worry, it hasn’t been switched on since you arrived,” he added as an afterthought.
Thank God for that! I banished memories of naked skin and Cole rising above me to the back of my mind.
Dragging my mind back on task, I considered my options. I wanted Jorge to suffer, and if I let Cole kill him, it would be over too quickly. But dragging him through a big public trial would mean more publicity, something I had planned to avoid. Was Jorge’s humiliation and shame worth it?
“Tasha, we need an answer…”
I shrugged off Angel’s gentle prod.
He would be ruined, never able to work again. We had him on murder, but was it enough? I wanted him to pay for what he had done to me. If he hadn’t tried to kill you, you’d never have met Cole… Okay, I wanted answers then. Strange as it might seem, someone wanting to kill me for no reason grated on me.
“I’ll do it. I want him to go to prison for a long time. He deserves to rot in jail.” The words had barely left my mouth before Cole was dragging me out of the room.
“We have minutes until he reaches the third floor. We can talk once we’re in your room,” he growled.
Something tipped me off to the fact that he wasn’t completely happy with my decision. Maybe it was the fact that his face was set in a grim scowl, his muscles strained and bunching under his shirt?
We dashed down the corridor. Pushing open the door to my bedroom, we slid inside.
Cole tapped his ear, then turned to me. “He’s five doors away. We need a plan.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cole
She was shaking, her face pale and her eyes wide, but she was standing strong. She hadn’t broken, or given up. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had crumpled into a pile of tears. It had been brutal; a man had died. Not a good man, but I couldn’t find it in myself to blame him. He had been the instrument, Jorge’s blade to wield. And now he was dead.
“You don’t have to do this—”
She was virtually jumping in her skin, her eyes darting around. “I do. He can’t get away with this, and I can’t let you kill him. I couldn’t live with it.”
I pulled her into my arms. “I understand. Which is why we need a plan. We need him to confess to his part in all of this, but you can’t let him get too close. You’ve got to promise me that.”
She squeezed me back, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can do this. I might not be a world-class actress, but I can play a part. Just let me try. If it seems like it’s not working, then you can step in.”
She was trusting me to keep her safe. Trusting me with her life.
“I need you to know something…” I dug deep, trying to muster the courage.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Tasha…I want this. Us. I fell head over heels with you right back there at the beginning. I was a fool not to grab you with both hands and not let go. I just wanted you to know I’m not letting you go again. Ever.” I blurted it all out, not stopping for breath.
Her mouth parted—in surprise or shock I didn’t know—but I didn’t waste the chance. Leaning down, I kissed her, trying to put everything into it so that she knew without a doubt I meant it.
Greg’s voice whispered in my ear, “He’s one door away. Put her down and move into position.” He chuckled, but it sounded strained.
“Go,” I hissed, giving her a shove toward the far side of the room.
On silent feet she ran over to the couch, grabbed a book, and curled up. Moonlight pooled around her, surrounding her in silver warmth.
Glancing around, I searched for somewhere to hide. The door handle started to turn. I ducked into the wardrobe, sliding the door partially shut behind me.
Please, don’t let this be a mistake…
Natasha
My heart was thundering in my chest, the noise deafening to my ears. Breathe… I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, my chest expanding, my rib cage spreading until I couldn’t take anymore. I held it for a second, then expelled it out through my mouth. They were breathing exercises I hadn’t used in years, but
had used every day when I had first started modeling to survive the pressure and constant scrutiny.
Cole slid into the closet, a silent shadow gliding through the room. Just knowing he was there gave me strength.
The door slid open and Jorge peered inside.
I feigned reading, my eyes scanning the page but not taking in a damn thing. I turned the page, sliding my finger along the cover. I glanced up, rearranging my face into one of pleasant surprise. “Jorge! What are you doing here?” I rested the book on my lap. Just like playing a part.
He looked surprised to see me awake, but quickly rearranged his face into a smile. “Natasha, darling. I just had to check on you to make sure you’re really okay after everything that happened today.”
As if it was completely normal to sneak into my bedroom uninvited.
He walked forward, one arm stretched out, the other tucked behind his back.
Holding a really big knife. How could I stop him from coming over and stabbing me in the stomach, like he had done to the man in the basement?
Inspiration hit.
“Achoo!” I covered my nose and mouth, leaping up and skirting around the crazy guy for a tissue. Wiping my nose, I thrust out a hand. “Don’t come any closer, Jorge. I have the most dreadful cold brewing and I don’t want you to catch it.”
He hesitated, indecision flashing across his face.
Yeah, it was one thing to stab a man in the stomach who couldn’t run away, another to chase a screaming woman around a room.
Continuing my stroll around the bedroom, I paused by the dresser, picking up a comb and twirling it in my hand. Time to cut the crap. “Why did you do it, Jorge? You have everything—fame, money, a successful career.” I rounded the bed, putting it between us.
“What are you talking about, Natasha?” Jorge tried for a confused look, failing miserably.
I never thought he was that good of an actor.
“You trying to kill me.” Straight for the jugular, don’t give him chance to dance around it. “Why? I’m not a threat to your career. Our paths have never crossed before. We don’t even get offered the same kind of jobs, until this one…” My voice trailed off, an earlier conversation with Cole replaying in my head.