I didn’t actually want the cops. I was too tired to want anything.
When nobody arrived and nothing else changed, except that the sky began to dull in preparation for night, I pulled myself upright and wiped clean the gun, then set it down again. I’d find a way to live again. I had to and so I would.
I stood and rearranged the sari.
My handbag was in their bedroom.
The gate opened and four men filed through – Grimm, Mavros, and two others.
That was when I learned that you can wish and wish and wish for something so often that your heart bleeds but when it does happen you can still be sorry. I was fatigued to the point that the shock made my legs wobble and I had to grab the nearest piece of timber or fall. I had no rage left, not for these men, though I already felt the force of their will, felt it wash over me. As their will and mere presence filled some of those empty spaces, I was afraid. If I gave in to them, afterward there might be nothing left of me except for bones and the flesh of my body.
I didn’t want them and I wished they were not here, even as I did a weird hybrid of a sob and a smile, for the sight of them had warmed my starved and withered heart. A little pathetic.
It was a few moments later that I wondered if they’d come to hurt me or help me. Last time I’d seen them, I’d shot Grimm in the chest and left Mavros possibly bleeding out from a wound in his throat.
That might be a small problem.
Chapter 8
Grimm
Did I imagine the fear in Zorie’s face, as well as the happiness?
I was close enough to see a quiver in the muscles around her pretty eyes, to see how tight a rein she kept on her expression. She was trying to give me nothing, but I saw. That fear gave me a strange satisfaction. After all my words, I wanted to see her hurt a little. That bullet had fucking hurt me, going in, and coming out. Guess my sainthood wasn’t such a dead-set certainty.
“Hello, Zorie,” I said softly, mounting the steps and hearing Mavros coming up soon after.
That she wasn’t running was good. I’d been ready for that. Ready to bring her down with a command.
Even though it would be wrong. And I’d wrestled with that one many times. Right and wrong had become so tossed around.
Could I do that? Make her stay? With Mavros here too, probably. Even if she’d overcome all those others, I doubted she’d ever handled two mesmers at a time. Not two like Mavros and me.
For months, she’d been by herself, murdering, but I smiled, finding myself filled with a confidence I’d lacked.
There was a mesmer inside, and an acquired woman. Mavros jerked his chin then followed our two security men, past me toward the front door. He’d lifted a brow as he passed and I knew he was giving me space, time, to be with her. Nice of him. What did he expect in return? He was harder to get feedback from than an encrypted piece of iTech.
Zorie swiveled on her sandaled feet as she spoke to Mavros, “Don’t hurt him, please. Good guy. Promise.”
Even that faint feminine hoarseness to her voice made me spring alert. I was a fucking hound dog that’d cornered a fox, a girl fox, one that was in heat, one that bit when she was stirred up.
I swear I could smell her. Not just sweat and grime – and she looked exhausted – her, I could smell her scent.
“Oh? Good?” Mavros paused, as did Security One, Grant I think was his tag – and he was poised half-way through the door. “Why?”
Zorie zeroed in. “Trust me.”
Whoah. I grinned. That was a definite growl in her voice.
“He’s on our side, otherwise he’d be dead.”
I approached until we were almost toe to toe, or chest to chest, amused at how her breasts were heaving. She took a step back.
Her hair was short, red, and impish, though a breeze made wriggly curls play across her face. The sari...I approved of the way the bright fabric wrapped her, pressed her best assets forward and made her lithe yet muscular body make my hands itch to hold her.
“Grimm. I’m up here.”
I let my gaze, that’d been meandering up her body, come to rest on her face. “A sari isn’t what I pictured you in.”
“Oh? Ass-hugging black leather pants and a harness bristling with guns and swords?”
“You know it.”
“If you give me notice, maybe next time. Leave a message –” She paused to clear her throat and I noticed a sway in her posture. “With my secretary.”
“Sure.” I checked her out again, couldn’t stop myself. “You’re breathtaking, Zorie. You always were, but you sound tired.”
A grimace came and went. “Fuck. Really? I’ve been learning how to be the grim reaper, which should be your job. Last I saw you, Grimm Heller...” I heard her long exhalation. “I shot you, because you killed someone I loved.”
Love. I tried not to frown and probably ended up looking as emotionally distant as Mavros. So many words came to me. I threw them all away.
“I know. First. I forgive you for shooting me.” Mostly.
Her mouth writhed into a skeptical expression.
I kept going. “And I’m sorry for what happened, for what I did.” We both knew I meant Cherie.
I had a moment of clarity where I saw this as a pivotal moment. The wrong move might doom me in her eyes, and yet I wasn’t sure which way to head.
A surge of desire pumped through me. It was dizzying, making my hands tremble. Blood sizzled, expanding my veins. I craved touching her, without leave, without consent. With zero consideration for what she might want.
Mouth open, caught by this maelstrom of lust, I struggled with myself. Similar riptides of emotion had hit me before, though never this hard. Not here, not now.
Yet, if ever a man could feel a woman was meant to be his, it was myself and Zorie. I’d done so much to bring us to this – to catch up with her despite her running and hunting, and killing...
Mavros had set this in motion. I was stopping it.
I didn’t know what was my best move. I feared to lose her even as I knew I’d never let her go again.
Slowly, I went to one knee and I took her hand. That she didn’t pull away gave me hope.
Those slender fingers were in mine again. “I’m sorry for what happened. If I could somehow go back and change it, I would, though at the time there was nothing that I could’ve done to stop them killing her.” Her mouth tightened at my words. I could imagine the memories I’d set off in her mind. They were cutting a trail through mine too.
Then she shut her eyes and I watched the flicker of movement in her eyelids and saw her teeth move on her lips, sinking in. The tension in her body ebbed.
“I guess. I guess, it’s time. Thank you for your apology.”
“I know it doesn’t change the past.”
“But you want it to change the future? I’m stopping, Grimm. This last one has wrecked me more than any other. You don’t need to be here anymore. Leave me be. Please.”
If she wasn’t killing anymore, then hallelujah. However, I wasn’t here just for that.
“Good. But you’re coming back to our hotel, to rest.” I released her hand and rose, done with my penance. “Where would you go from here? You’re lucky your illegal entries and exits from countries haven’t triggered any alerts. Mavros and I, we’ll help you.”
“Help? I don’t know.”
I’d kept my coercive powers on simmer and I decided they could stay there.
“You’re coming with us. After everything, you think we’d just let you go because you say you’re done. Uh-uh. No. We need to talk.”
Zorie didn’t ask me about what. She simply muttered something then nodded. “Fine. You are the only people I can talk to about this. And I do...I do need to talk.” A wistfulness infused her words. “What I did –”
“Hey, maybe not here. We’ve a car on the street.” I took her hand again, felt her flex her fingers, but not to escape. Maybe just to feel what mine felt like against hers, same as I was doing? Though encl
osing her hand was also my way of laying claim. “Come to the car. You’re looking paler by the second. I don’t want you fainting.”
Her eyes snapped wide. “I’m okay. I’m not some little flower blossom. Let me break these fingers a few times, if you need convincing.”
I grinned, chuckling. “Not today.”
“Who were those other men?”
“Employed bodyguards cross security. You’ve stirred up a lot of mesmers. There are whispers of retribution, or so Mavros tells me. He hears things. They aren’t many but they’re linking up, and they know what you’re doing.” I shrugged. “We’re taking precautions. These men are good at what they do.”
“Well, make sure they retrieve my bag and knife.”
“What about that?” I waved our clasped hands toward the lone revolver lying on the timber.
“It’s his. I wiped it clean.”
Quietly, I shifted my hand from hers and slid my palm across her back, to come to rest on her opposite hip. God, the soft warmth of her...she felt so good. A moment later she lowered her head to my shoulder and I heard her sigh. She snuggled into me, just a little.
“I missed you, Grimm.” Her words were quiet, but they made me heady with what I could only call love.
“Me too.” I embraced her more fully with the arm that crossed her back and I turned to smell her hair, and breathe her in. The scent seemed to go straight to my heart. “I missed you too, Zorie, so much.”
At that very moment, at that flight of the doves, songbirds, and butterflies moment, Mavros stepped through the front door. His glare was hard enough to frighten reinforced concrete.
“Done?” I asked, mildly. He’d left me with Zorie but clearly hadn’t expected to return to find us embracing. “Did you get a handbag and knife?”
The seconds ticked past, with Mavros slowly winding down from a death stare to his usual serene demeanor. “We have those. I’m not done, Grimm. No. But we can leave.” He flicked his gaze to Zorie, who had straightened. “You’re coming.”
The fight in her reawakened. Her body tensed.
Without thinking, I used a tendril of will to calm her and realized Mavros had done the same.
“Leave off,” she muttered. “Both of you. I’ll come, but only because I want to.”
Perhaps that was true, but I couldn’t tell where her consent ended and our influence began.
Chapter 9
Nicholas
The text message alert sounded. Gingerly, I picked up the phone from the side table. My first message sat above the incoming one.
She’s been here. The one I told you about. What do you want me to do? Men came to get her. 2 collectors. 2 normals. One collector had signs like Wolfe. Tremors & that spaced out look. Might be drugs? I have footage from a pinhole security cam.
Johann’s reply was terse.
Send appropriate footage of both. I’m very interested in the male.
I hadn’t mentioned the text I’d received from the collector I knew as Thierry. He was more interested in the woman. I couldn’t survive without this insurance, not with my past, my condition. I needed to keep myself and Margot safe, and so I traded information for money and sometimes for protection.
*****
Grimm
In the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, with a terrible poverty that was worse than I’d ever seen before, with people who were living in cardboard shanty-towns for fuck’s sake, we’d found a hotel to cater to our every whim. The morality of being semi-rich in Mumbai escaped me when the woman I wanted in my bed was sleeping only a few yards away, in my king-size bed. Mavros had booked us a double room apartment at the Palace Residential, with two bedrooms, a spa, and a gorgeous view of the sea. Luxury beyond compare. Certainly beyond what I’d bothered with most of the past four months...but he’d neglected to get an extra room in case we caught up with Zorie.
I forgave him, thoroughly, as I watched her sleep. The brilliant sci-fi book in my hand, Ancillary Justice, was neglected and hanging from my fingers. I’d read the same sentence several times. I laid it on the table. Found the dog-eared novel at a market yesterday, but there were far better things to do.
She was curled up, half beneath the rich red, embroidered covers, and ivory sheets, wearing an old shirt of mine, and nothing else. The swell of her breasts peeking from the half-unbuttoned neck opening of my white shirt had given me a hard-on. I was content to let her sleep, though.
I figured she wasn’t leaving while she slept.
And when she woke?
Maybe I should rope her to the bedhead?
I scrubbed my hand through my hair and went back to trying to read the local English newspaper.
We’d not let Zorie go back to the apartment she’d hijacked, so all she had on arrival at this hotel was what she wore and carried. Sari, handbag, shoes, underwear. Mavros was downstairs purchasing clothes for her and I presumed underwear. I prayed he’d take his time before returning. Eternity might be too soon.
The talk we’d promised each other hadn’t really happened. Last night she’d been exhausted and the two of us had watched while she ate, drank, and almost fell into her plate. We’d urged her to shower and ended up tossing that coin after all, just to decide in whose bed she’d sleep.
Only I hadn’t had the tenacity, the fearsomeness, the guts maybe, to insist on climbing in with her. She’d fallen asleep before I had, and I’d watched her do so from the sofa.
I didn’t imagine for one second she’d been like this while on her own – crashing into sleep like some child after a big day out.
Sleep deprivation was probably mandatory when being a serial killer on a spree, which described her to a T.
Why had she felt comfortable enough to sleep like a baby? I’d decided on the answer. It was the same reason why I was still sitting at the table reading a paper with a half-naked Zorie in bed. She trusted us.
She shouldn’t.
But she did.
I’d already rehearsed how to molest her about a dozen times and not carried through.
I couldn’t bear to destroy that trust. Not after what I’d done when a prisoner of Einar and Kaage.
There might be another explanation for her sleeping so soundly. Were we somehow using our influence, subconsciously, to make her happy enough to stay? Whatever mesmers could do, I hadn’t yet completed the advanced course. Mavros would know, except he’d not said a word. And I...yeah, I didn’t give a damn if I was making her stay.
The sound of the door opening and a muted clatter made me check the little hallway. Mavros appeared, with a boy behind him pushing a trolley loaded with food. Silver domes covered the plates but from the scent, Mavros had ordered us a hot breakfast. He stalked toward the bed then halted and stood looking down at her until the boy drew his attention.
“Leave that. Thank you.”
After a good morning, sirs, and a small bow of his head, the boy exited. Mavros deposited a bag at the foot of the bed. Zorie stirred and stretched, with the bed clothes moving as she shifted her legs. The small smile on Mavros’s lips seemed far too predatory.
“Psst!” I beckoned.
The man deigned to look at me. Towing the trolley, he came over, placing two more shopping bags on the rug nearby before he sat in the armchair opposite.
Suit, immaculate tie, immaculate hair. Having half-lived with the guy for months off and on, I didn’t bother to ask why he dressed that way this early. It was him. He was allergic to denim and T-shirts.
“Losing the touch, Mister Grimm? Not in bed with her, fucking her?”
She must’ve heard, though perhaps she hadn’t caught the meaning. The covers stirred again, shifting even lower, exposing more of this tussled female. I held my breath.
“I decided I still have morals.”
“What are those? I brought breakfast, Zorie!” He clicked his fingers and she opened her eyes, peeking between pillow and sheet at us. He added quietly. “I didn’t chase her across this continent for half a ye
ar just to buy her clothes and send her on her way.”
Neither had I. I’d just wanted some time to convince her to be mine. And not to be his.
“Both of you,” she muttered sleepily. “Go away while I get dressed.”
“There’s a new sari and bra and underwear in the bag on the bed. I went by the sizes of what she wore.” Mavros sounded amused. He tinked a fork on one of the domes on the trolley. “We’ve both seen you without clothes and breakfast waits. I want to get out of Mumbai this afternoon, go to New Delhi, then finalize getting all of us out of India.”
Zorie propped herself up on her elbow. “Damn you. It does smell good. I agree, we need to leave. I don’t even know who that man was yesterday. It’s possible he will talk to someone.”
“Nicholas.” Mavros stretched out his legs. “That’s his name. I asked. Interrogated. I have his phone number, date of birth, driver’s license, and a promise from him that he won’t mind becoming dead if he communicates anything about us to anyone.”
“But you don’t trust him,” I murmured.
“Of course not.” He raised his voice. “The sari is a beautiful blue, Zorie. It will suit you.”
To my surprise, she slipped from under the sheets, like the languorous siren she resembled, stood, and began to unbutton the shirt.
“You’re right. You have seen all of me.”
No blinking, I voluntarily decided.
When she gave up on the buttons, reached up and stripped the shirt over her head, the air in the room grew thin. Seeing her curvaceous shape emerge, the bounce of her breasts as they were caught then freed by the fabric...and the jiggle of those pink-brown areolae...for a small eternity, my brain went on strike. “Jesus.”
Wicked Hunt (Dark Hearts Book 3) Page 4