Chapter 7
Adam reacted instantly, kicking the nearest gun and sending it spinning. Dage pivoted to take out a guy to the right, while Adam shoved Victoria behind him. A bullet whizzed by his head. He went into battle mode, sizing up his opponents.
Four-man attack team, armed, and shocked as hell to see them appear out of thin air in his own Seattle penthouse vestibule. The first guy reached for a knife in his pocket, and Adam tackled him into the wall. A couple of hard punches to the gut, one to the jaw, and the guy went down.
Cold metal pressed against Adam’s ear. He stilled, slowly turning around, grabbed the gun and punched for the temple. The guy dropped like a rock.
Dage stood to the side with an attacker in a headlock, while the fourth man held Victoria easily before him, his gun against her rib cage.
Fury swept through Adam, and he stilled, forcing control through his limbs. “Get that gun away from her, or I’ll rip off your fucking head.” His fangs dropped low. Witches had fangs just like vampires, but they rarely used them.
The attacker eyed him and then looked at the king.
Adam concentrated on the team, noting their signatures. The guys were witches. “Were you sent to attack us?” he snapped.
“No,” the guy in the headlock croaked.
Oh. “I’m still an Enforcer with the Coven Nine. Want to explain why you just attacked us . . . as well as making a move on the king of the Realm?” Adam demanded.
The guy holding Victoria slowly lowered his weapon and then released her. He paled. Yeah. Nobody messed with the king.
Victoria stumbled over the prone body, headed straight for Adam, her eyes wide, panic across her features. He held out an arm, and she ran right into it, snuggling into his side. Damn, if that didn’t feel good.
Adam nodded at the king, who had apparently tightened his hold, because his hostage was turning purple and kind of flopping while standing up. “Dage? I think you can let him go.”
Dage’s mouth turned down. “Oh, all right.” He shoved the guy toward his buddy.
“Explain,” Adam ordered.
“We were sent to investigate the penthouses and look for the traitors, Simone Brightston, Kellach Dunne, and Daire Dunne,” the first guy said slowly. “Then you appeared out of nowhere.”
“Those people aren’t traitors, you dumbass,” Adam shot back.
The guy lowered his chin. “According to the Council, they are, and they’ll be treated as such. If you have information pertaining to their locations, you must divulge that now or face your own treason charges.”
Adam pinned the guy with a hard look. “We’ve just arrived from Dublin, as you can see. I have no information.” He tightened his hold on Victoria. “And if you ever threaten me again, you’ll be eating through a straw for centuries.”
Dage looked around the foyer, pausing at one demolished and boarded-up door. “This must be where Daire lived? I heard your brother’s penthouse was attacked last week.”
“Aye,” Adam said, keeping his gaze on the two still-standing attackers. “Take your team and get out. Now.”
The men each lifted an unconscious witch over his shoulder and headed down the stairs.
Dage whistled, glancing at the scorch marks on the damaged walls before looking up at the cracked ceiling tiles. “This place looks like it was bombed. It’s shocking nobody got injured.”
“Everyone got injured,” Adam returned. “But we all lived.” A rogue demon had bombed his brother’s penthouse a couple of weeks previous.
Dage nodded. “Even so, you shouldn’t stay here. I have a couple of safe houses.”
“We’re covered. Just want to grab some things,” Adam said, his shoulder blades itching. “Thank you for the ride, Dage.”
“No problem.” Dage smiled at Victoria. “It was truly a pleasure.” With that, the king zipped out of the foyer.
“Wow,” Victoria murmured. She shook her head and pushed away from Adam. “That was exciting.”
Talk about an understatement. Adam ignored the shattered tile beneath his feet and moved toward his door, unlocking it by using the keypad.
Victoria followed behind him. “What happened to this place?”
“Bombing.” Adam stepped inside, closing his eyes to listen for threats. Nothing. He turned and gestured Victoria inside, locking the door after her.
She looked around the spacious main room. Only one of his walls showed damage. “You sure have an exciting life.”
“Not usually,” he said. Hell. That wasn’t true. Being an Enforcer, even during peacetime, rarely offered a peaceful moment. “I’ll keep you safe from the dangers of my job, Victoria.”
She hovered in the surroundings, seeming uncomfortable for the first time since he’d met her. “I’m not staying in your life. Surely you know that.”
“Considering your sister mated my brother, you are always going to be in my life.” How did she not understand the concept of family?
She cleared her throat and gingerly strode down the two steps to the plush living room. “We’re not mating. You get that, right?”
He scrubbed both hands down his face, his whiskers burning his palms. “Listen, I’ll try to figure something out. Right now, the entire witch nation is in flux, and I promise we won’t do anything without pursuing all avenues.” Yet, he had to tell her the truth. “But the Coven Nine, even fractured, is extremely dangerous. While the Enforcers are on our side, the Guard follows Coven dictates, and I’ve trained some of those soldiers. If the existing council members order our deaths, we’ll be running forever.”
She crossed her arms, looking small and fragile in the large room. “I am not mating you, damn it.”
“Some people think I’m a catch,” he murmured, gratified when her lips twitched. Oh, her smile was unwilling, but still. Making her smile spread pleasure through him. He nodded toward the kitchen. “I’m sure there’s something to eat in the kitchen. Why don’t you go rummage through the cupboards while I take a quick shower and change clothing?” He glanced down at the tattered remains of his outfit.
She swallowed and looked toward the wide expanse of windows. “I, ah, like you in casual wear.”
His attention was caught. “You do?”
She shuffled her feet. “Yes. You’re more approachable when you’re not dressed like a lawyer.”
A lawyer? She thought his dress pants and shirts made him look like a barrister? He frowned.
She shrugged. “I’ll go find food. Take your time with the shower. I may cook something.” Dodging him, she picked her way to the open kitchen, going right for the refrigerator.
* * *
Tori looked into a refrigerator bigger than her first apartment. Every once in a while, she forgot that Adam was completely loaded. How much did a penthouse in downtown Seattle go for, anyway? Probably for more money than she’d ever see. Ever.
The fridge was mainly empty save for a beer, a shrunken orange, and some ketchup. At least he was a normal bachelor.
She shut the fridge and returned to the great room. The apartment was silent. Was he in the shower yet? Probably. It was sweet that he hadn’t even questioned her willingness to stay in place, considering she’d already run from him once. Of course, he probably thought she’d been afraid of the plane crashing because of her motor issues.
She had more problems than her curse.
Glancing down at her borrowed clothing, she had to admit the witches had style. The long pants were top quality, as was the silk blouse. The boots were like butter against her skin. Good enough to meet with DEA Agent Franks.
She reached the door and took one last look around. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Duty calls.” Dodging outside the penthouse, she quickly reached the elevator and headed down.
The first floor of the building held a gathering area, sofas, and a long counter complete with a doorman. She nodded and kept walking, hurrying outside to a gray Seattle day. There were probably cameras everywhere, but she didn’t have time to change her clothing or find a hat. So she walked several blocks to a coffee shop. A cute kid of about eighteen sat in a corner, typing on his laptop. She approached him and smiled.
He looked up, his jaw going slack.
“Hi.”
“Um, hi.” He squinted from behind trendy glasses.
“You look like a decent guy. My phone was stolen while I was in Nordy’s, and I wondered if I could borrow yours. Just to call a friend of mine. She’s a cop.” She slid her smoothest smile into place. “She’s local. I promise.”
The kid fumbled to hand over his phone. “Of course.”
“Thanks.” She smiled again and quickly dialed.
“Franks,” the agent snapped, her voice ticked.
“Hi. It’s Tori.”
Franks huffed out air. “You still in Ireland?”
Tori rolled her eyes. “No. I’m in Seattle but lost my phone and purse. Let’s meet at Georgie’s, and I’ll give you a full report.”
“Ten minutes. If you’re not there, the deal is off.” Franks disconnected.
Tori kept her smile in place and handed the phone back to the kid just as it started to smoke. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“How about I buy you a latte for the road since you lost your purse.” The kid stood. “I insist.”
Her stomach clenched it was so hungry. “No, I really couldn’t impose. Thank you, though.” She turned and hustled into the rain, careful in her nice boots. It took her nearly ten minutes to reach the small diner, and the second she walked inside, the smell of cooked everything slammed into her. She nearly gasped.
DEA Agent Brenda Franks was a sleek tigress who favored silk clothing and stood to about five foot ten. Her eyes were blue, her hair brown, and her face always set in a pout with very red lipstick. She waited in a back booth, stirring a pound of sugar into her coffee. Her eyebrows lifted as Tori approached. “That’s a fancy outfit.”
“You have no idea.” Tori sat and grabbed a menu. “You’re buying me food, Franks. I’m starving.”
“Well, I figure zipping through time and space from Dublin to Seattle would make a gal hungry,” the agent said dryly.
Tori’s mouth dropped open. “What? How? Wait.” Then it hit her. Franks was joking. “You have no damn idea.” She returned to the menu. A waitress approached, and Tori looked up. “I’ll take number nine with bacon, eggs over easy, and wheat toast. And a Pepsi.” The waitress, an elderly woman with bright blue eyes, nodded and turned for the kitchen.
“You’d better have info for me,” Franks muttered over her coffee cup.
Well, not really. She scrambled to think of something. Anything. “I still have my ear to the ground.”
Franks lowered her cup. “That’s not promising.”
Tori cleared her throat. “I’ve been spending time with one of the Titans of Fire Enforcers. Adam Dunne? Well, we’re getting close. So far, I’m not sure Fire is really involved in the drug trade.” For some reason, Adam and his brothers had joined the motorcycle club about three months ago, right when Apollo was hitting the streets.
The drug had earned its name because it gave the taker a sense of being a god . . . powerful and strong. Well, until it burned the victim from the inside out. It was a killer, as were the people making and selling it. “Adam isn’t the type. I just know it.” Yet did she? His smoothness. All that money. Could it be from drugs?
“The Dunne boys were part of an MC club in Ireland that joined forces with Fire. They’re trading guns for drugs.” Franks snorted. “Titans of Fire is instrumental in the distribution of Apollo. We know that for sure. What we don’t know, what you’re supposed to be finding out, is who the damn manufacturer of the drug is. That’s why your friend isn’t in jail, and that’s why we haven’t brought Internal Affairs down on your sister.”
Tori met the agent’s gaze without flinching. She’d been recruited as an informant by the DEA when her good friend Malanie had been caught with Apollo. Tori was an ideal target because of her ties both to motorcycle clubs and to her sister. Franks was a bully, but her job definitely drove her. “Listen, Franks. My sister is a good cop. She can withstand any investigation.”
Franks sat back, her long fingers drumming the scarred table. “Your sister is dating an Enforcer for the Titans of Fire. They’re criminals, without question. Either give me something, or I’m taking her down. Now.”
Tori scrambled for something. Anything. “Fine. I may have something. Do you know about Bear? The leader of the Grizzly Motorcycle Club?” Oh, telling Franks this was a mistake.
Franks’s gaze sharpened. “Yeah. What about Bear?”
“Ah, well, he and the Dunnes are friends.” Kind of. Really, Bear had been kidnapped at the same time Tori had been. But still. He had met with the Dunnes in Ireland, right? And they’d allowed him to return to the States, unlike her.
Franks shook her head. “That’s crazy. The Grizzlies and Titans of Fire are enemies—rival motorcycle gangs. They barely tolerate each other.” She leaned back, her gaze turning thoughtful. “Although . . . I had heard the Grizzlies were looking to get into the drug trade.” She reached for her cup again. “One of our sources let us know that there is a party tonight at Grizzly headquarters. Are you still dating Lucas Bryant?”
“Clarke. He goes by Lucas Clarke now,” Tori said. “Something about dodging his past. Um, we haven’t talked in a while.” She’d been investigating him, not dating him. Lucas was Bear’s right-hand man, and if the Grizzlies were selling drugs, he’d be in the thick of things. “It’s complicated.”
“Good.” Franks smiled, looking more like a model than an ambitious DEA agent. “Then you won’t mind attending the party.”