Argus licked the last of the strawberry jam from the jar then guzzled a gallon of apple juice. He shrugged into his trench coat, mindless of the stained wifebeater underneath, smeared with the remnants of his blood and breakfast. The empty plastic juice jug rattled into the sink where he tossed it before he barged out the back door.
An hour later, Argus pushed his way through the crowds of departing passengers at Union Station and headed toward the wall of lockers near baggage claim. He scanned the numbers until he located number seventy-seven. With trembling fingers, he punched in the code. The human’s spirit rampaged in his head and a sharp twitch convulsed his neck. He mentally bitch-slapped his newly insane host and wished for the zillionth time he’d eradicated the cracker-ass mofo prior to possession.
After a roll of his shoulders and a loud crack from his joints, he finished punching in the numerical code and the locker hissed open. He squinted into the dark cavern and fished out a black briefcase. It fell to his feet with a heavy thud as the door slammed. He hoisted his bounty and took off out the revolving door. An electric surge spiked through him, jerking him to a stop. His head snapped around, searching for the immortal’s presence. No luck. He hailed a nearby cab and dove into the backseat. The weight of the heavy case hurled him sideways while he barked out the address to the driver. The taxi pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic on the busy street.
Once they were a safe distance from the station, he shifted to stare out the back window. A hulking silhouette stepped from the shadows, and Argus sank lower into his seat. The car turned a corner and moved further from the area. Relief flooded him when the electric buzz ceased. Argus brushed his fingertips over his black leather prize, a Grinch-worthy grin encompassing his face. Mine!
Chapter 5
Kagan and Mira climbed the creaky wooden stairs to her small studio above a corner liquor store. His nose wrinkled at the smell of musty damp and cheap cigarettes wafting from the graffiti-covered walls. Vaff! Why would the woman live in such a hellhole?
“Is he here?” Mira turned, staring at him while he searched the dim stairwell.
“What?” Kagan swiveled to face her. He took in her irritated expression and knew enough to tread lightly. Cristo, she was moody!
“Nothing.” Mira whipped around and continued toward her apartment.
He tossed up his hands. “Let’s just hurry, si? I don’t like you being out in the open. Too vulnerable.”
“You know, you’re a real . . . ” Her speech trailed off, only to be replaced by a resounding curse. “Shit!”
Kagan leaned around her and noticed the broken handle. He pushed the battered door open to reveal a war zone. Her furniture and belongings were strewn about like so much garbage. Clothing and dishes and memories all jumbled together to produce a life in shambles.
“I’m a real shit?” Kagan said over her shoulder before he glanced into the apartment. He yanked her behind him and drew his gun. “Stay here until I clear the area.”
He took a step forward then stopped abruptly to visually inspect the apartment. Mira ran smack into his back. “I told you to stay put! Let me do my job, Il Dottore.”
“Look, asshole. I can protect myself. Been doing it a long time. I don’t need you coming in and taking over.” She stepped around him and headed for the kitchen. “Besides, there’s one room and a bathroom. If you haven’t seen anybody by now, you’re not going to.”
Kagan pushed past her and finished checking the apartment for intruders before clicking the safety on and stuffing the gun into his waistband. He cut a swath through the debris to stand guard by the front door. As he waited, Mira plucked two daggers from the mess in the kitchen. She then climbed to the bed and grabbed a green canvas duffle bag from the assorted chaos.
“I have to say, your housekeeping skills are exemplary.” Mira provided him with a lovely middle finger in reply. Kagan grinned and glanced away. Behind a large punching bag, he spied various awards hung on the wall. “What’s your black belt in?”
“Krav Maga.” Mira looked up from her packing. “You familiar?”
He nodded, remembering her moves at the club. “I’m impressed, piccola. Not many women could handle themselves the way you do.”
“Damn straight! Don’t you forget it, either.” Her finger jabbed toward him for emphasis. Mira moved past him to remove the award and tuck it in her bag before slipping into the bathroom. He glanced into her duffle as she ducked around him. From the bag’s open top protruded pink boxing gloves, a yellow coffee mug, and purple fuzzy slippers with monster fangs and googly eyes. Not what he would’ve expected from the tough Ms. Herald, but he’d given up trying to decipher her puzzle.
Kagan checked his watch. Xander was going to be less than overjoyed if they didn’t arrive soon, and he couldn’t stand another lecture. Not today. The momento with Mira had put him in a tailspin. He’d brought her here as a show of truce, an act of contrition after the way he’d pounced on her this morning.
Oca! He needed some time, some space from the situation before he lost his head. Maybe conferring with his Scion brothers was exactly what he needed right now.
Loud footsteps echoed on the stairs outside, breaking him out of his thoughts. He squinted into the dim hallway, sniffing the air and detecting a faint odor of sulfur. Magnifico. “You ready?”
Mira emerged from the bathroom, her expression murderous. “I’m going to kill the bastard who did this.”
“Let’s go.” Kagan grabbed Mira’s arm and pulled her tight against him.
The unknown intruder drew closer, ominous footfalls echoing louder.
Kagan prepared to flash, despite Mira’s continued fidgeting. He closed his eyes and pictured the location of Wyck’s apartment, zeroing his mind on the destination. A sudden, soft knock resounded, shattering his focus and snapping his attention to the door. He gripped Mira to his side and drew his Glock, aiming to kill. A statuesque brunette with huge, dark eyes lingered at the apartment’s entrance, her expression frozen in shock. Merda!
“Zoe!” Mira jerked from his grasp and ran to embrace the woman. “Thank God you’re okay! You got your stuff?”
Zoe lifted the bag slung over her shoulder, her attention fixed on Kagan. “Who’s he?”
Kagan’s muscles remained tense, his frame braced and ready for battle. “You know this person, Mira?”
Mira hooked her arm through the brunette’s. “Kagan, this is Zoe. Zoe, Kagan.” She elbowed the woman, who reluctantly extended a hand.
Kagan forced himself to relax and took her hand in a brief, firm shake before grabbing Mira. “We are leaving.”
“Zoe’s coming with us.” Mira’s firm tone defied argument.
“She’s not involved in this, Mira. She can’t come.”
“We’re a package deal, Kagan. No Zoe, no me. End of story.” Mira pulled Zoe closer. “Besides, your friend Argus has made her involved.”
Jaw set, he took a menacing step toward Zoe. “What’s she talking about?”
“The man you shot last night. McClaine. He was outside my apartment this morning.” Zoe’s voice wavered, but she held her ground. “He found me.”
“Why would he care?” Kagan scowled, his gaze darting between the two women. Mira’s death grip on the woman’s arm and the way Zoe kept fidgeting under his close inspection told him there was more to this story. “Tell me.”
“He’s our . . . ” Zoe flicked her eyes to Mira. Mira shook her head. Zoe dropped her eyes and shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
Basta! Xander was going to kill him anyway for being late. What was a little more ammo for the barrage? Sending up a silent prayer for patience, Kagan ushered the ladies out the door. “We’ll figure this mess out at Wyck’s. Now hurry up and go!”
• • •
One hour, two trains, and a six-block walk later, they arrived at their destination. Kagan’s dark scowl told Mira everything about his mood. He was unhappy about the public transport, but she’d insisted because of Zoe. Her ow
n first experience with Kagan’s preferred mode of travel hadn’t been good, and she wanted to ease Zoe’s introduction into this new world of crazy.
They stood outside a nondescript metal door in a brick-and-mortar warehouse hallway. The surfaces were well worn but clean and invitingly spacious after the heavy gray winter outside. Kagan knocked while a small security camera above captured their every move. The door slid open to reveal a less than amused Xander. Kagan entered, followed by Mira and Zoe.
Xander held the door open, his smile tight and his eyes trained on Zoe. “Who’s she?”
Kagan pulled Xander aside, giving Mira an opportunity to take in her surroundings. One half of the large room resembled a military command center, filled with multiple screens and stations. Along the wall behind them, metal shelves overflowed with bundles of wires and equipment. The other half was a normal warehouse apartment. The whole space was filled with the constant whirring white noise of computer terminal fans and digital beeps.
A man Mira didn’t recognize peeked from around the side of a computer station and grinned. His hair was tousled, his clothing haphazard, and the stubble on his chin glinted in the light from the screen. Great. One more crazy friend. A hand touched the small of her back. She jumped. Kagan and Xander loomed behind her. Her gaze slipped sideways to Zoe, who seemed to be taking things in relative stride.
“Glad you decided to come, Mira.” Xander flashed her a guarded smile then extended a hand to Zoe. “I’m Xander.”
Zoe gave him a once-over before clasping his hand. She frowned at the contact then released him like toxic waste, her arms crossed and her face pale. Xander took a step toward her before Kagan blocked him.
Mira exchanged an intrigued look with Kagan and pushed Zoe to the sofa. “C’mon, let’s sit down.”
Xander kept a watchful eye on Zoe while he played the gracious host and offered the girls drinks. Mira accepted water on behalf of her now mute friend. Moments later, Xander returned with their beverages. His tone betrayed more than a hint of underlying tension. “I was beginning to worry something happened to you.”
Kagan crossed his arms and shot his commander an acerbic stare. “Oh, nothing for me, grazie. I’ll get my own.”
“They’re guests,” Xander said, his tone spinster schoolmarm with a hint of defense. He shoved Kagan out of the way, lingering a bit too long when handing Zoe her water. Then he strode to the computer station and waved the girls over.
Mira grabbed Zoe’s arm and pulled her along. The guy behind the screen stood at their approach. His build was similar to Kagan and Xander’s, but his appearance was less GI Joe and more hipsterish Silicon Valley. He sported sparkling, green-gold eyes and an infectious grin beneath his scruffy, dark blond shag.
Xander made the introductions. “Ladies, this is Wyck. He’s our resident tech guru. Wyck, this is Mira Herald and Zoe . . . ” He paused, looking at Zoe with an expectant smile, waiting for her to supply a last name.
Zoe extended her hand, her quiet tone as tight as her smile. “Just Zoe.”
Wyck chuckled, jerking his head in Xander’s direction, his voice infused with a heavy dose of proper British. “Don’t mind him. Bloody tosser’s always been too damn nosy for his own good, eh?”
Mira held out a hand. Wyck clasped it in an enthusiastic shake. He inadvertently brushed against her burn from earlier and she bit back a yelp. Kagan shot to her side.
“What’s wrong?” He yanked her hand from Wyck’s and enclosed it with his own. Wyck observed the exchange with a silent, arch stare. Kagan ignored the silent challenge in favor of explanation. “She burned herself earlier.”
Xander snorted, leaning one shoulder against the nearby exposed brick wall. “Overprotective much?”
The two fought a battle of dueling glares for a moment before Xander pushed off the wall and transferred his attention to Mira. “I’m hoping Wyck can answer some of your questions, Mira. Maybe you can help us too.”
Kagan’s thumb stroked absently over the sensitive skin of her wrist. Mira’s toes curled inside her combat boots despite her situation. She tugged at their joined hands. His grip tightened. She yelped again, this time because her birthmark flared. Shit.
Kagan frowned. “Now what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Mira snapped, her composure shot. “Jeez! My shoulder hurts, okay?”
“More injuries?” Xander’s compressed lips and rigid stance only reinforced the stinging accusation behind his scornful tone. “Is that why you were late?”
“Are you implying I’m not doing the job, Xan?” Kagan stiffened, his expression dark.
Mira pushed between the two men and headed to the living room. “My birthmark is nobody’s damn business, anyway.”
Xander’s attention snapped back to her. “Birthmark?”
Mira ignored his question. The three warriors followed her into the other room, crowding around her in a suffocating circle. Mira’s Bitchy Meter went berserk. “Forget it!”
“What does the mark look like?” Xander asked. He and Wyck wore identical expressions of curiosity. Kagan, however, looked ready to murder his two friends.
Mira surveyed her opponents, searching for weaknesses. She found none. Dammit. Unable to beat them, but not ready to join them either, she decided to gain as much information as she could while she was here. She hesitated before answering. “Like a bow and crown.”
No one moved. Mira frowned at her invading warriors. They watched her, their expressions blank. She used charade-like hand gestures to demonstrate. “You know, a bow and crown.”
“And how is the mark bothering you?” Xander stood directly in front of her, his stance unmovable and every inch the commander.
Mira rolled her eyes and leaned around him to click on the TV, channel surfing to deflect the unwelcome intrusion. “It burns sometimes.”
Silence. Powerless to stand the suspense any longer, she glanced up. The trio eyed her like a wonky third-grade science experiment. Temper overflowing, Mira placed a finger on her chin and struck a deep-thinker pose. “Hmm. Let’s see. Maybe the mark hurts because of the way you manhandled me last night. You remember, Kagan. When you shoved me into the booth and deprived me of oxygen?”
“Oca! I was protecting you.” Kagan’s jaw clenched. Wyck sniggered.
“Can I see the mark?” Xander leaned toward her.
“Like hell!” Kagan grabbed his arm. “You’ll not touch her!”
Xander’s gaze narrowed on Kagan, his face a mask of lethal calm. “First of all”—he jerked out of Kagan’s grip—“I will do what I want. Second, as your commander, I need to see the mark. It could be important.” He stepped closer, his quicksilver eyes blazing in sharp contrast to the lethal calm in his voice. “And you’d do well to remember your priorities, Kagan, instead of thinking with your damn cock all the time.”
Kagan leaned nose-to-nose. “Maybe if you used your cock once in a while, you wouldn’t be such a cold-hearted bastard, Xander.”
“Leave it to the Roman troia to sniff at every crotch that walks by.” Xander glared, unflinching.
“And leave it to the Greek malakas to not even respond to one.” Kagan’s smile was paper-thin and decidedly unpleasant.
“Pane gamisou!” A muscle ticked under Xander’s cheek.
“You first, segarsi!” Kagan’s fists squeezed.
Mira didn’t need an interpreter to gauge the insults flying. There was definitely something to be said for alpha male entertainment. She settled in to enjoy the show, glad the spotlight was finally directed elsewhere.
Zoe leaned close and whispered, “You didn’t tell me you had a birthmark.”
Wyck slouched into the chair beside Mira’s. He winked at the ladies before crossing his arms. “Hey, mates? If you’re going to get all Greco-Roman, could you take it outside? Lots of expensive stuff in here I’d like to keep using.” Wyck grinned and shrugged. “You know, to save the world and all.”
“Fine!” Kagan maintained his position in Xander’s face.
“Fine!” Xander’s brow quirked into “fuck you” mode.
“Or I have an even better idea,” Wyck piped in again. “One of you—I’m guessing Kagan—can snap a few photos with this disposable camera, and we can all take a look-see.”
Mira eyed the small device in Wyck’s palm. If it would keep these guys at a safe distance, she’d play along. “Okay.”
The two fuming warriors looked in their direction, as if only then realizing others were present. Xander looked at Mira, then at Zoe before striding back toward the computer. Wyck twiddled the camera at Kagan. “Camera, picture, shoulder?”
“Basta!” Kagan grabbed the camera and stormed toward the bathroom.
“Hey, wait for me!” Mira trailed behind.
• • •
Kagan slumped on the side of the tub, his shoulders drooping while he fiddled with the tiny plastic camera. Mira moved in front of him, fighting a smile. She’d never seen him angry. And on her account too.
He looked up, his eyes focused on her twitching lips. “You think this is funny? I’m sworn to protect you, even from my stupido friends, if necessary.”
“Calm down.” Mira lifted her hands in surrender. “No one touches me. Now, let’s do this.”
She attempted to pull the sleeve of her shirt both up and down to reveal the mark. No good. She tugged the collar. Still nothing. Shit. No way was her top coming off in front of this guy, no matter how charming and cute. Not happening. His hands landed on her shoulders, and she jumped.
“I think you’re going to have to take this off, piccola.” Kagan’s voice was low, soothing, his heat permeating her space. She met his gaze in the mirror, and posed a silent question. His hands rubbed her arms, warmed her chilled flesh. “Don’t worry. I won’t peek.”
Heat flooded her cheeks and her head dropped. Great. With trembling hands, she lifted the tee from the waistband of her jeans as images of their morning encounter flooded her mind. What the hell was she thinking to come in here with him? Why hadn’t she insisted Zoe take the pictures? His hands covered hers, and her eyes flew to his reflection.
Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2 Page 7