It sounded like a gasp even to my ears. I had to clamp my hands over my mouth so I didn't start to cry. I hated crying. And I was horribly close to it. So close I could hear the tears in my tone.
He'd been toeing the pile of leather with a stormy look on his face, but when he saw me as I must have looked, terrified, with a stare the size of a goggle-eyed lemur, his hand balled up next to his thigh. He shoved it into his pocket and took a step toward me.
I had the horrible feeling he was about to crush me in a pitying hug.
I couldn't take that. I didn't want it.
"Don't," I said. "Don't you dare touch me."
Maddox blinked and I thought I saw his throat convulse. I might have decided he had a heart after all, one that could be broken by an unkind tone, but the cat streaked out from the crack in the doorway and launched herself at him with a hiss.
Like some sort of feline ninja, she bounced off the chair and propelled herself at his shoulders, reaching up with a paw and scratching him across the neck. Then she squalled and ran up the stairs to the empty apartment.
I watched her on the top tread, staring down at us with a glassy glare.
"Devil cat," he said and laid a palm against the scratch. I doubted it had drawn blood but it would at least smart.
"Maybe she recognizes a devil when she sees one," I said, grateful to the beast for distracting Maddox from my outburst.
"The sidhe warlord had quite a different effect on her," I told him, drawing out the distraction, knowing following a shift in conversation didn't just put distance around a regretful outburst, it pretty much buried it.
He murmured something in a language I didn't recognize and pulled his hand away to check for blood.
When he swung his gaze to mine, all trace of pity was gone. In its place was the guarded, composed expression, one I felt more comfortable with.
"Fae have an affinity for nature and all its creatures...what I am, not so much."
"And what are you?" I said.
He just smiled. "I'm someone you can trust, Isabella. Someone who needs you."
"Needs me?" I said, feeling spent after all that. I thought I liked the sound of it. "So that's the proposition?"
He nodded. "Well, I need what you have, honestly."
"And that is?"
"The Lilith Stone."
CHAPTER 2
The Lilith Stone.
There we were right back to the topic I didn't want to discuss. It had been the instrument of my descent to Hell, tossed blissfully at me by the sidhe, Colin, as a means to trick me into touching it. In catching it, I'd found myself transported by its magic to a copper tub the size of a pool in a realm I couldn't have taken a bus, ferry, or plane to. Lucifer's own bath, it turned out. So what I knew of the stone was painfully little: that it could transport its holder in and out of that hellish boudoir at a touch.
The only other thing I knew about it was that I didn't ever want to return.
I'd had a narrow escape. I didn't relish reminiscing about it, but that wasn't why I couldn't let on to Maddox that I knew about the stone. I'd given it to Scottie as insurance. He kept the valuable asset while I gathered necessary intel on how it could be used as a weapon by some powerful people I was working with.
At least, that's what I told him.
I was running a long con on a man who thought take-out pizza was too long a wait.
Letting on I knew about the stone to Maddox would risk my freedom, and I'd worked too hard—conned too hard for it.
I flicked a crumb from the counter the way someone might do if they were ignorant but curious. Stared casually out the window over my sink. I could see that the sun had already set behind the buildings and it was growing gloomy in the room. I flicked on the switch over the basin, and the LED light cast a blueish glow over the sink.
"This Lilith Stone?" I said. "Is it anything like Lilith Fair?" I dragged my gaze from the light switch to my wrist as though to check the time. "Because I think you're a decade too late for that."
His shoes squeaked as he headed toward me. "Don't be coy, Isabella," he said. "I know you have it."
I turned and crossed my arms over my chest. A waft of sleep sweat crept up my nose. I was weary again just thinking about what I'd gone through, the things I'd had to endure to survive.
I didn't think more than eight hours had passed since I'd escaped that place. The thought of just crawling into my bed in my T-shirt sounded about right. I wanted to sleep for days.
Apparently, it wasn't an option as he closed the distance between us and laid his palm down on the sideboard, leaning in as though he wanted to cage me there until I got flustered and gave up my secrets.
He obviously misjudged me.
"I need a shot," I said. "Don't you?"
I edged away and pulled open a cupboard door. Several bags of opened chips grinned back at me. A jar of pickles.
No booze though. I knew better than to check my fridge. I didn't have a carton of milk or bottle of orange juice. I'd not been shopping in forever. My stomach gurgled thinking about how long it had been since I'd eaten.
"What I need is for you to answer me." His biceps flexed and moved, drawing my eye. "Tell the truth."
I pulled down a glass from the shelf so I could avoid his searing gaze and ran the tap till it was frigid before sticking the glass beneath.
"What makes you think I'd lie?"
I watched the water foam to the top and run over the rim into the basin where a small pile of dirty dishes had been left. I'd been in the middle of doing them, I remembered, when all the trouble with Scottie and the sidhe had begun. I hated doing dishes but in retrospect, that hellish duty would have been preferable to the suffering I'd endured at both their hands.
Maddox reached toward the top of the stove and plucked the pepper shaker from its spot. He spun it about to face forward with three deft fingers and swapped it out for the salt shaker. Then he lobbed an accusatory glance at me because the salt was all gobbed on the top. He thumbed the grains away and brushed them on his pants.
"Maybe you don't know what the Lilith stone is called, but you have it," he said.
"Never heard of it," I said and took a long draft of the cool water.
It braced me, lifting gooseflesh to the back of my neck, and I eyed him over the rim.
He pushed the spice shakers toward the back of the range and advanced on me to stand no more than an inch away. I had to look up at him and realized the back of my head hurt. Everything hurt, to be honest.
Just standing there felt like agony.
"I tripped over your bug out bag on my way in," he said. "Half empty can of pepper spray. Pistol. But no stone. So where did you stash it?"
He was close enough to me that he could track the back of his fingers along my arm to my elbow, and he did. I wondered if he'd sensed my earlier lust and was using it now to fluster me.
"You have it here somewhere, Isabella. You're not a good liar. It's not yours to keep. It was stolen from a sect of monks from the fifth world who would very much like it back"
"How many damn worlds are there, anyway?" I said, catching my breath at his touch. Damn, he was something. All danger and rugged good looks stuffed into a dress shirt and jacket that was groaning to be yanked open.
Just exactly the kind of man who got me into a world of hurt in the first place.
"Nine," he said and his palm whispered against my elbow. "As far as we know."
I edged away from him and backed into the sideboard.
"Don't—" I started to say until those fingers clamped down a little too roughly.
"I know you have it, Kitten," he said. "The smell of it is all over you. It's all over the apartment."
I shook him off. "That's sweat," I said. "A girl gets a little overheated when she has to fight for her life."
I put a safe distance between us. Close enough to the fridge, I yanked it open and noticed a heel of bagel sitting on the top shelf in its bag. The cream cheese container sat beside it
, bookended with an opened can of beer I must have left in there weeks earlier. I pulled out all three, hugging the bagel and cream cheese to my breast as I upended the can. With one eye on him I tossed the empty toward the trashcan.
It circled the lip before falling to the floor with a metallic thunk.
His gaze narrowed to two small slits.
"In Hell," he said, drawing both words out the way you do when you're finally putting two and two together.
"Yes," I admitted. "Hell.
He poked his tongue into the corner of his mouth, thinking.
"Well?" I said. "Cat got your tongue? I just told you I went to Hell. I almost died there. Almost ended up putting curtains on a cozy bedroom made of hellfire and brimstone. In fact, by my count, I told you twice and you don't seem the least concerned."
He reached down and plucked the can from the floor and dropped it where it belonged then shoved his hands into his pockets. His fists bulged against the material.
"To Hell," he said, narrowing his gaze to suspicious slits. "Literally?"
"Would I lie about something like that?" I said. "The sidhe warlord. Colin. He sent me."
"I'm sorry, Isabella," he said. "I'm being an obtuse bastard."
I lifted my eyebrow at the word.
"That better damn well mean you're being insensitive," I said and to show him I didn't really care what he thought, I plopped the stale bagel down into the toaster and plunged the lever.
He laid his palm down on the sideboard and tracked with his gaze the flush I knew was rising from my chest to my face.
"Tell me," he said and leaned one hip against the cupboards. "I want to hear about it."
"It was the sidhe warlord," I said, pulling the top off the creamed cheese and recoiling at the layer of mold on one side. I blinked at him. "Colin. He sent me to Hell to pull Kassie out. Just like we thought, she was in there, trapped."
In between scraping cheese from the untainted half of the tub, and spreading it over a burnt bagel, I explained how Kassie had re-assembled herself into the Morrigan long enough to rescue me, leaving out the part about the stone that she had used to do so, the stone I'd pawned off on Scottie because I knew fate would end up taking out the man I didn't have the power to finish.
At least I hoped so.
Maddox listened quietly, grimacing as I crunched down into the bagel. His eyes flicked toward the cream cheese tub and I thought I saw him swallow convulsively.
"See?" he said. "Your admission that you went to Hell for Kassie...That's how I know you have the stone," he said. "That's one of its powers."
"One?"
He nodded. "It's an amazing artifact, actually."
"Well, I don't have it," I said. I wasn't lying, and knowing I wasn't lent the confidence to stare him down, I headed toward the sofa. Standing there in a T-shirt and not much else was making me antsy.
"I'll pay you," he said, halting my steps mid journey.
"Not interested," I said around a mouthful of bagel. I chewed it while I flopped down on the cushions and threw one arm over the back of the sofa.
He canted his head at me, indicating he didn't believe me.
"It's not something a human should play with, Isabella," he said. "You're best to just give it to me. Scratch that," he said. "I'll pay you for it. Right now. I have a thousand dollars on me."
He dug through his pockets and I eyed him through narrow eyes at mention of payment. I had a tribute coming up for Scottie as part of my sabbatical deal, the only thing I could think of to keep him from dragging me off with him to a future that involved showing his goons how much control he had over me.
If the man didn't open the little velvet pouch out of curiosity, I'd need a good deal of cash to keep that hard bargained for independence.
"Just how valuable is it?" I said.
His search of his pockets stalled.
"I thought you didn't have it."
"I don't."
He waved his hand. "Like I said, its scent is all over you. There's no sense pretending. I'll pay. To keep you safe if nothing else. It's really nothing to mess with."
He hitched himself onto the counter and I watched the play of muscles in his chest work beneath his T-shirt as I chewed.
I ignored his mention of me smelling like magic because after I'd seen the things he could do, I didn't doubt he had some weird affinity for magical relics. It explained why he owned the Shadow Bazaar and why he had a network of pawn shops in his arsenal to fuel the sale and bargaining of those kinds of objects.
"So," I said, "How much will you pay for this artifact, assuming I can retrieve it for you?"
"Ah, there's my greedy kitten," he said.
Let him think greed motivated me. What did it matter to me? Except it did. I had already decided I wasn't going to run anymore. I was facing my demons head on. But it wasn't enough. My particular demon required cash to let me stay rooted.
I tossed the last half of the bagel onto a side counter when a hint of mold struck my palate.
He grimaced and turned away from it.
"I won't pay you to retrieve it," he said. "It's too dangerous. Just tell me where it is."
"Believe me," I said. "After that experience, I wouldn't touch the thing with a forty foot pole and a hand made of iron."
He grinned. "Not for all the tea in China?"
"Not for all the gold in El Dorado."
"There is no money in El Dorado," he said. "It's just a tale the mothmen tell to lure humans."
I had no idea what a mothman was, or that they lured humans at all and it intrigued me. "What do they lure them for?"
He lifted a hand. "Don't ask."
He was right. I didn't want to know. Stick to the stone and the possibility of payment.
I did know where it was. At least, theoretically. That meant I had the upper hand. An easy score. Instead of telling him and letting him wrest it from Scottie's clutches himself for free, I could earn a tidy tribute and pay the bastard with his own insurance. If he was still on Terra Firma at all anyway.
"I know better than to mess with the stone, but if I can get my non-literal hands on it, I'd want at least 20K."
"I'll give you 20K just for telling me where it is," he countered.
It was generous and I knew it. It was safer than facing Scottie, and I could get at least one quarter's tribute. But if it was that easy, then I could do better. Besides: if Scottie was still on this earthly plain, then that stone was safe in its pouch.
"I can have it to you by tomorrow night. Forty thousand."
"I don't like it," he said. "But if you can have it in my hand by tomorrow midnight, I'll pay you. If you can't, you agree to tell me where it is."
"Will I have to go to the Shadow Bazaar?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I'll come to you. Just like now."
"But you'll knock this time, right?" I said, imagining finding him hovering over my bedside and fearing what I might do if he caught me half asleep.
He stuck his fingers in the air like a boy scout and he stiffened his back formally.
"I will only enter uninvited if I think you're being assaulted, beaten to a pulp, or eating another moldy bagel," he said.
I stuck my hand out.
"Deal." I gripped his hand with the kind of firm handshake I'd always imagined deal-makers used, but when his palm met mine two of his fingers trailed around to my wrist, tickling the skin there, turning it into something entirely different.
His gaze touched down on my mouth at the same time his fingers brushed the inside of my wrist.
I hated the way my cheeks flamed as he eyed me, obviously waiting to see what my reaction might be.
"That wasn't an invitation," I said and pulled my hand away before I ended up lassoed to his chest by a lust I couldn't seem to manage this close.
He grinned. "Guess that means I need to leave," he said.
I watched him spin on his heel and head for the door. He back-kicked the bug-out bag further into the room and deftly avoided
the cat's leap from the stairs. She landed with a soft thud on the tiles behind his back as the door closed.
She yowled at me.
"I agree," I said, but I felt a disquieting niggle of uncertainty.
It was one thing to agree to a heist, quite another to plan to steal from a mobster.
And stealing from Scottie was a death sentence.
CHAPTER 3
A foolish girl might decide to charm Scottie out of his wares. I'd certainly been a bit foolish in my day, but recent events had smartened me up a bit. At least, I hoped they had. I couldn't just stroll into Scottie's hotel room and steal the stone out from under his careful gaze.
No. I needed a ruse.
And I needed protection.
Fayed would provide both, if he was amenable. I had no reason to believe he'd help me, except for the guilt he might feel that his progeny, Isme the sociopathic vampire, had tried to kill me.
I dressed in my most comfortable yoga pants and a clean T-shirt, pulling a light jacket over my shoulders in case the overcast sky opened up to rain.
The cat eyed me with a baleful look. No doubt she was getting a bit of PTSD from being shuffled off unexpectedly to other realms whenever I left her alone.
I had no idea what had happened to her the first time, but I doubted she'd been hard-pressed in her visit to the fourth world with the sidhe. She had acted toward the warlord as though she wanted to become a living stole wrapped around his neck to keep him warm at nights.
Personally, I hoped the bastard froze to death.
"You'll be fine," I muttered to her when she followed me to the door. "Just go shred some socks. I left a new pair on the floor of my bedroom just for you."
I had indeed left a pair of socks to occupy her time, but they'd been old ones, not new. I wasn't about to lay out a pair of fresh white Mirena socks for her to tear to bits. I'd lost too many good ones already. Although how she managed to dig them out from my dresser drawer was a mystery. I figured if I baited her, she might leave my good ones alone.
She yowled at me and I stooped to rub her ears. She let me get one good pet in before she batted at my wrist, tired, already, of my attentions.
Stone Goddess (Isabella Hush Series Book 3) Page 2