Stone Goddess (Isabella Hush Series Book 3)

by Thea Atkinson

  His advance on me was slow and languid and I had the feeling my feet were mired in tar. All those times I'd been in his shop, submitting myself to his revolting advances in order to unload ill-gotten gains, he'd been nothing but a disgusting man.

  Now he was something much more compelling. His every pore wafted pheromones that I registered as all the things I loved: strawberries, manly soap and sweat. I'd been a woman resisting revolting advances then. Now I was a human before a demon who fed on sexual energy. I needed to be wary.

  I managed to back up a step and he outright laughed.

  "You're a strong little thing," he said. "But how strong will you be when I'm back to full flush and find your home with no more than a thought? You all swaddled in your bedclothes, dreaming dreams of lust and adventure. Makes for a prime opportunity for a demon like me."

  He was right. I'd rather pay up with a chance of getting what I needed from the alchemist than pay up and get nothing.

  "What are the specifics?" I said and mentally noted that if I agreed, I'd have to reschedule Fayed and stall Maddox. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Things were getting too complicated already. Too many fingers in the safe.

  "You lure the target within reach of the Fire Gate. I don't need to explain how. You'll figure something out and I'm sure the circumstances will provide all the opportunity you need." He flashed me a lecherous grin.

  "How will I know the target?"

  He ran his hands down over his face with a sweeping motion that encompassed his entire body. Where his hand touched morphed with shivers of light and flesh into a different form. He grew taller. Older. What had once been a youngish Colin Farrel doppelgänger became more of a Sean Connery. At least the target was handsome. It might not be too difficult to show enough interest to lure him long enough to steal whatever it was Absalom wanted.

  "And the object?" I said. "What will I be lifting?"

  Tentacles of light played over him and he morphed slowly back into the Colin Farrel look alike. He propped his hands on his hips.

  "Once it's within reach of the gate, it reacts with the magic and lights up. You'll know it when you see it."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't have to go in?"

  He shook his head as the door cracked open about two inches. Cherise began stuffing my bag through the crack and I winced, thinking she was going to splinter the pepper spray can.

  "And then what?" I wasn't used to such vagueness and I didn't want to have to come back.

  "Who do I deliver it to? "And how do I get my pay?"

  "He said all you'll have to do is toss it through the gate. Don't worry," he said. "Your payment will be secured."

  "Not good enough," I said. "I want insurance."

  He nodded. "He thought you might. The stone will be ready upon entry to the soiree. I'll have Cherise pass it to you. The magic will be supplied on your delivery of the item."

  "Three nights from now," I repeated.

  He nodded and reached beneath his armpit to pull my bag through. He yanked the last bit of leather from Cherise's hand and tossed it to me.

  "Cherise has slipped a costume in your bag. Wear it. I like my pets to have a certain flair."

  He spun on his heel before throwing another command over his shoulder. "And make sure to wear the thigh high boots and the wig. I like the blonde one."

  Bastard, I thought as I slung the bag over my shoulder. He'd just guaranteed I'd do neither.

  It all seemed too easy. All except for the gate part. I didn't want to get within three feet of it at all. I'd had a bad experience with the Blood Gate and the Shadow Bazaar altogether. The last thing I wanted was to get sucked in to it. And although Maddox was the owner of the bazaar, it was a huge bit of property with stalls and buildings that stretched for a mile in every direction.

  There was no telling where I might land or end up and even if I could count on him to help me if I found myself in there.

  "Three nights. Midnight." Errol saluted me with a click of his heels then spun and disappeared through the crack in the door. It was only later that I realized he shouldn't have been able to fit.

  And it was only on my way home that I gathered that little detour to Errol's shop might have cost me my meeting with Fayed. It was already 1130. Time had warped and frayed and left me standing out on the front step of my apartment building.

  I climbed the steps with legs heavy from weariness. I'd lost time in Errol's shop, and I hoped Fayed was inside the porch waiting for me.

  Someone was waiting for me alright, but it wasn't Fayed.

  CHAPTER 8

  I knew just by looking at him that the man waiting for me wasn't one of the Kindred who had somehow spelled himself into my apartment. He was real. Mortal. A living and breathing human man who had picked my lock and was now stretched out on my sofa, ankles crossed, his filthy sneakers creating mud stains of epic proportions on the arm of the sofa.

  My first instinct should have been fear, but after meeting with Errol and nearly getting blasted by Kelly, just seeing those blotches of mud from God knew where in a city of asphalt, I felt more annoyed than anything.

  Really. It was getting to be too much. What did a chick have to do to keep her home sacrosanct? Kick some ass, that's what. Obviously, there was no substitute for brute force in this case.

  "I'm getting pretty sick of people breaking into my apartment," I said and slammed the door shut behind me.

  I jammed my hand into the gaping zipper of my workout bag and dug around.

  I didn't care what met my fingers first: pepper spray or pistol would do.

  He wanted to break in? He was going to pay the consequences.

  He unfolded himself from my sofa with such leisure, I suspected he wasn't just there for the crown jewels. I might not know who he was, but I knew who sent him. He was new, like Alvin had been, acquired by Scottie sometime after I'd left.

  "He's getting lax in his protocols," I said to the guy. "Doesn't seem to care who he hires now."

  A brief flash of confusion sullied his otherwise bland expression. He was long and wiry. His grey Metallica T-shirt stretched across pectoral muscles that flexed and squeezed beneath the fabric. He was impatient to show off that muscle, if the one-size too small for him T-shirt was any indication. Not just some scrawny wharf rat then. Someone lean but hard-bodied.

  Well, I was small and fast.

  I waited till he scuffed his running shoes against the carpet the way a bull does before charging, and then I pulled the pistol.

  He paused. Filthy skid marks bore into the pile of the area rug. The edge of his T-shirt pulled up at the navel and showed a glint of black metal.

  "Not the smartest move," he said, eyeing the muzzle.

  My eye went to the object tucked in his jeans. Not a gun, I knew, but what was it? Too big to be a phone. Too hard to be a notebook.

  He cracked his neck back and forth as if he'd got stiff lying on my half sized sofa.

  "I didn't break in," he said, going back to my original complaint.

  I waved the Ruger at him.

  "I don't give a flying fig whether you were teleported in from the Starship Enterprise. This is my damn house."

  He crossed his arms over his chest and flexed his pecs at me.

  "Your landlord was all too willing to believe I was another one of your johns."

  My landlord was happy to pretend I was a prostitute because it annoyed his neighbors, but I didn't really think he believed it.

  "Fuck you," I said.

  He pulled a cigarette package from the front pocket of his jeans. It was crumpled and squashed and I couldn't believe the cigarette he slipped from the fold was still as pristine as if it had just left the factory.

  "Just how many men do you have traipsing in and out of here?" he said, laying it on his bottom lip. He patted himself down, distracted. "Got a light, darlin?"

  I blinked at him. "No," I said. "No get the fuck out of here." For extra emphasis, I disengaged the safety. It wasn't loaded but
he'd not know that.

  He smiled, showing a cracked tooth in the front of his mouth. The cigarette rolled toward it.

  I could already feel my hand shaking as it wrapped around the pistol. My gun was for show, not use. I'd seen too much killing to want to do some of my own.

  "I have a hard time believing my landlord would let you in," I said and edged toward the kitchen counter. I wasn't comfortable with my back to the door now that I knew my apartment had been violated.

  "He would if he saw this," he said and started to reach behind his back.

  I stiffened and my finger tightened on the trigger, a reflex that told me had it really been loaded, he'd have been bleeding by now.

  He held his hands up in surrender.

  "No worries, darlin'," he said. "The only weapon I have is here in my crotch." He chuckled at that as my eye ran back to his waistband. "I promise I won't draw on you, pardner."

  Without waiting for me to assent or not, he reached behind his back to pull out a pair of panties and my long blonde wig, which no doubt had been tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

  I knew my landlord had seen me in the wig on more than on occasion. He'd been happy about it, in fact, believing the neighbors would be infuriated by a prostitute doing business in their district. And since he was an older man, curmudgeon or not, he no doubt he took one look at the panties and bolted for the door, embarrassment riding his heels like a cockroach running for cover.

  I jerked my chin at my intruder's crotch.

  "You must not have much in those pants if you can jam all that in there," I said.

  The guy flicked the cigarette to the floor and closed the distance between us in less than four strides.

  I stabbed the muzzle toward him and he chuckled.

  "It's not a knife, darlin'," he said. "The boss forget to give you lessons when he gave you that pea shooter?"

  He drilled into me with his gaze, no doubt trying to decide whether or not I had the stuffing to pull the trigger.

  I knew what was going on behind that crystal blue gaze. I'd seen it play out plenty of times with Scottie. Will a criminal take the chance of having the police poke about if they fired a weapon and scared the locals with the noise? If the answer was yes, was there a chance of survival afterwards?

  I did some quick calculations, and I watched as he saw me add up the obvious: I didn't have a silencer. I couldn't heft him if I shot him and had to dispose of his body.

  And I couldn't call the cops.

  The fact that it wasn't loaded meant nothing to that equation.

  He put his hand down on my wrist. Two fingers curled toward my pulse. I felt it hammer against the fleshy pad of his index finger.

  "Let's talk like civilized robbers," he said.

  "I've got nothing to say to a piss ant like you," I said. "You touch me, and Scottie will hear."

  "Who do you think sent me?" he said.

  "Scottie and I have an agreement," I said but I lowered the Ruger. "Now get out."

  "Scottie won't be happy if I return without bringing him what he sent me to fetch."

  "Fuck you." I wrenched away from him, and shoved the pistol back into the workout bag. So maybe that was useless and he knew it. I still had the pepper spray. I rummaged around inside, searching for the can.

  I had it in my hand and was pulling it toward the zipper when a jolt of pain shot through my arm. His fingers dug into the inside of my triceps with his thumb. I gasped and fell backwards, my body trying to escape the pain, but he twisted my wrist and punched into the muscle.

  I sagged forward. He danced away before I could recover and the spray can fizzled out into the interior of the bag, sending a waft of spicy heat up through the zipper.

  I coughed and dropped the bag. Whatever threat he posed, it wasn't as great as the incapacitation of pepper spray misting my bare eyes. I ran for the sink to wash my hands and lave out my eyelids. My throat burned like hell fire.

  I half expected him to take advantage of my vulnerability to grab me from behind, which he did. I didn't truly care until his forearm blocked my throat.

  "You're gonna be a good girl, now, eh?" he said. "Do what you're told?"

  His free hand roamed down my ribcage to find my buttocks. He cupped one cheek and slapped it playfully. I might have thought that was all he'd do, but then I felt that same hand slip between my legs. He kicked my feet apart with his.

  "At first, I wasn't so sure why he was willing to wait," he said. "But then, I can see you might be worth it after all."

  Water ran down my face to pool at my clavicle. I told my heartbeat to calm the hell down. He wouldn't rape me. He couldn't. Because if he did, he'd have to kill me. And even then, Scottie would hunt him till he could enjoy a long week's leisure of making him pay.

  "Too bad," I said with more calm in my voice than I felt. "Waiting was what he signed up for."

  I felt something press into the tender spot between my legs.

  "You know what this is, darlin'?" he whispered against my ear as he pressed the object deeper into my flesh. "Top of the line stunner. Multiple settings. No reloading."

  My entire body went cold. I didn't even dare swallow for Pete's sake. I'd never been Tasered, but I'd seen it plenty. The thought of a jolt of electricity riding my nerves like a filthy hobo on a freight car was bad enough, but the idea of multiple barbs sticking into my crotch?

  I near fainted from the thought.

  He flung me sideways and I fell against the wall and sank onto the floor in an awkward splay of arms and legs. The garbage can skittered out from its place when I knocked it with my hand and a beer can leaked its last yeasty fluid.

  He loomed over me, the stunner in his hand.

  "He just wants to remind you how important it is for you to get the information you agreed on."

  So Scottie was still on the mortal plane, then. At least I knew now he hadn't touched the stone. But he wasn't happy having to wait. I should have known a man like Scottie wouldn't just sit idly by twiddling his thumbs while I searched out Intel that could change his life for the better.

  He would try to prod me into doing it faster. Six months sabbatical? If Scottie counted time at all, it was in dog years. I added up that I probably only really had six days.

  He leaned over and touched the stunner to my thigh. No barbs punctured my skin but the jolt slammed up my back. I arched backward painfully. I gasped.

  "Lowest setting," he said and moved to touch my chest.

  "Alright, alright." I tried to hold up my hands in surrender, but snapping bits of pain cracked into my shoulder muscles. I ended up being able to do no more than lift them waist tight.

  "You got some sort of hard on for that device?" I grit out from between clenched teeth.

  I finally managed enough strength to push myself onto my knees, but as if to prove me correct, he jammed the stunner into my rib cage.

  My legs shot out from beneath me and I fell on my opposite side. I kicked at the air, unable to stop the muscle spasms for several moments while he stood there watching me. My teeth closed over my tongue, sending biting tears to my eyes.

  He pulled another cigarette from the package and laid it on his lip, canted his head to the side. He was enjoying the torture, the bastard. Alvin had been a brute but he'd not taken such cold and calculated interest in my harm.

  I knew right then what I should have already known. I couldn't trust Scottie. He'd agreed to let me loose for a short time because it suited him, but he was not keen on waiting.

  All of the things I thought I'd known about my ex, shivered down my spine.

  I'd been too complacent. Too kind. Far too willing to believe that he would feel some shred of decency because it was me he was cowing and not one of his goons or a stranger who owed him money.

  I'd wanted to let Scottie choose his own fate and that was a mistake born of the young Isabella.

  I couldn't make that mistake again.

  The guy delivered one final jolt and waited until I fi
nished spasming on the floor. I didn't realize I had drooled onto my chest until he leaned over me and wiped at the spittle from my chin. He cupped me behind my head and lifted me almost gingerly to my feet. I staggered, weaving back and forth as the room came into focus. All of my muscles were nothing but sopping wet teabags.

  He held me aloft by my waist as he dragged me toward the sofa. Whispered words of what should have been comfort fell from his lips, but they had the opposite effect, making my nerves jangle and my skin tremble against the muscles.

  I couldn't do much more than whimper as he threw me onto the cushions.

  I sank into the arm of the sofa. I felt more like a cloth doll than a human being. I watched him strip off his shirt and saw exactly how lean muscled he was. Whatever he did to work out built sinew and flexibility instead of hard boned muscle.

  He wiped his face with his shirt, obviously sweating from the exertion of bringing me to heel.

  His expression was lecherous and the thought that he might actually rape me fleeted across my mind.

  "Touch me and Scottie will know all about it," I said.

  "Touch you?" He said. "I wouldn't dream of it. My tastes lend to a little more masculine. But you do make a man hot."

  A second shadow moved from somewhere past his shoulder and my eyes went automatically to seek out its source. It shifted and moved and grew into a shape that was far more massive than he was.

  Someone else was in the room.

  And that someone looked pissed.

  CHAPTER 9

  Maddox came out of the shadows as though he had been lit by a movie camera. One broad arm snaked around the back of the thug's throat and yanked the man, kicking, backwards off his feet.

  His foot hit the lamp and sent it sailing cord's length across the floor where stuttered out sheets of light for two seconds before the lightbulb smashed into a noisy pop.

  I threw myself forward, landing on the floor with my cheek grazing the filthy area rug just out of reach of splinters of glass. I caught sight of the thug's dirty sneakers and had enough time to ascertain that the mud he'd tracked in was a nice mix of fine sand and potting soil. His left foot spasmed against the floor as Maddox crouched over him.