Chapter Thirteen
Vaughn checked his watch for the tenth time. Nope, still too early to head upstairs.
“You okay, Captain? Is it Hadleigh?” Drum asked, lounging back on a sofa in Marcus’s office that was built for two people to sit comfortably but just managed to contain the width and breath of the Maat Warrior.
Vaughn grinned. “Date night, but I have another half hour before Hadleigh expects me back. So, let me get this straight. New York was a trap. You…” He flicked a glance Marcus’s way. “Have a dark web contract out on your ass. And we have no idea how many world-class supernatural assassins are currently tracking you in order to trick or torture you into giving up the whereabouts of the chaos rubies.”
“My team have been able to pinpoint four contractors who have expressed interest. First one to provide the information will collect ten million dollars. The Fire and Ice Demon combo have been dusted.” Marcus looked down at the list of IP addresses his team had compiled. “One of these has to be the Dream Vampire. The other two is anyone’s guess. My team are still back tracing, but these contractors are professionals, they know how to hide.”
“Are we any closer to destroying the rubies?” Vaughn enquired, running fingers through his tousled white blonde hair.
“No.” Marcus tried to keep the frustrated edge out of his voice. “And I’m running out of ideas.”
“Could we hide them?” Drum wanted to know.
Marcus shook his head. “Remember what happened when I dropped them into the volcano? The damn thing shook apart, then exploded, hurling out building sized chunks of ice and rivers of lava. Lucky the island was uninhabited… what there is left of it.”
“Can we keep them where they are? You said they’re safe.”
“Safe-ish. There’s always a chance something could go wrong; a power blackout, a hurricane. Long-term they aren’t something I want to keep around. Especially since I don’t think Sek and Mot will stop coming for them.”
“Safe-ish? And you expect me to sleep at night?” Drum growled.
“Hey, join the club. With a Dream Vampire on my ass if I want a nap I have to take a plane ride.”
“You need to tell us if that becomes a problem.” Vaughn advised. “The Flyboys always like an excuse to take the plane up.”
“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” Marcus nodded. “Back to the rubies. Anyone have any suggestions?”
“Maybe Daniel knows of a creature who can destroy them, or eat them or something.” Vaughn looked to Drum. “When is he back from Boston?”
“He requested three days off. The Imps are having a full moon religious celebration that he wants to document.”
“I’ll send him an email and see if he has any ideas.” Marcus volunteered.
“Good.” Vaughn got to his feet, looking at his watch again. “I’m off, I have a date with my lovely wife.”
“As do I.” Drum grinned, his black eyes sparkling. “Nell should be finishing her shift about now and I think I’ll take her to breakfast.” He referred to his wife based in the Southern Sanctuary located in Australia. “What about you?” Drum’s gaze shifted to Marcus.
“I got some sleep on the plane back from New York, so I’ll probably work through the night. Try and see if I can’t find anything about the assassins gunning for me. It would be nice to take the party to them rather than just sit around waiting for them to spring their trap.”
“Yeah, about that, you need to be careful. If you leave the Tower, don’t go out alone. That’s an order.” On that note Vaughn exited. His stride swift and sure as he headed for the elevator. His fellow Warriors thankfully understood that his current focus was his wife and the imminent arrival of their child. If they needed his help, they would ask for it.
Stopping by the canteen first, Vaughn picked up his surprise for Hadleigh before heading to the 85th Floor. Since they were officially on a date, at his own door he knocked and waited.
The door swung open, suddenly Vaughn felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Hadleigh stood there wearing a loose, flowing to the knees, gold sundress and matching sandals. The outfit reminded him of the gold jersey top she’d worn on their real official second date. “You look, gorgeous.” He leaned in, breathing in the scent of his meld mate before planting his lips on hers.
Hadleigh smiled, a warm golden glow igniting low in her body. Damn, her man was beautiful, and a great kisser. “Thanks. Riya made it. Said she had it in her luggage and suddenly just thought of me.” Hadleigh was amused, noting Vaughn’s burnished gold eyes dipping momentarily to her belly before he quickly and determinedly met her gaze once more. She chuffed a soft, resigned laugh. “Go on then, say hello to the baby.”
“No, it’s fine.” Vaughn straightened his shoulders. Tonight was about him and Hadleigh. The baby would be here soon enough.
“Seriously.” Hadleigh winced slightly as the baby stretched as if reaching out for Vaughn. “You know it goes bonkers the moment it hears your voice. Just say hello, so we can get on with our night.”
A grin lit up Vaughn’s face as he leaned over, placing his hand high on Hadleigh’s belly. “Hey, Lump. You be good for Mommy and Daddy. Tonight’s date night and I need you to be my… wingman? Wingbaby?” Laughing as he felt the baby nudge him. “Hey, I think Lump just fist bumped me.”
“No, that was more like a butt bump.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’ll take it.” Vaughn glanced past Hadleigh into their apartment, noting the coffee table in front of the oversized sofa facing the big screen TV was laden with snacks. His heart swelled a little, he could see apple slices, carrot sticks, soy crisps and a plate of carob muesli bars. Damn, Hadleigh undid him sometimes. She knew how he obsessed about her eating healthy for the sake of her and the baby and she was stepping up, showing that she was prepared to make an effort.
Well, he had made an effort also. Reaching down, Vaughn grabbed the basket he’d set by the door and handed it over. “An escort should always arrive bearing gifts. Here.”
Hadleigh glanced into the basket, her eyes widening in sheer surprise. “Where did you…” She grabbed the basket and started to look through the large array of Australian junk food that Vaughn had gathered together. “Twisties. Oh, Tim Tams, nice. FruChocs! Chicken Chips… you know I love you, right?”
Vaughn laughed, throwing his head back. “Come on, let date night begin. What movies did you decide on?” He watched on in amusement as Hadleigh dumped the carrots and apple slices into the soy crisps bowl and began to display the junk food to her satisfaction. Fanning out the chocolate Tim Tam biscuits as if they were an array of precious jewels. Only his wife.
“Okay.” Hadleigh sighed as she sat down next to Vaughn and picked up the remote. “We’ll start with Flash Gordon for some retro over the top action and then I have John Cusack’s Grosse Pointe Blank lined up for some laughs, romance and spy fun. How does that sound?” Hadleigh hit the button to start the movie, and another button to dim the lights.
Vaughn settled his arms around her. “Perfect. Now… you’re going to need to remind me.” He trailed a finger lightly down Hadleigh’s arm. “What are the rules again for a second date?”
“You’re the one who made them up, you should know.” Hadleigh smiled, watching as the credits began to roll but very aware of Vaughn’s heated warmth pressed up against her.
“But you know I love it when you lay down the law.”
Hadleigh laughed ruefully. “Damn, I forgot, the first movie is supposed to be a scary one so that I, the girl, will cling to you, the boy, for reassurance and protection.”
Vaughn picked up Hadleigh’s legs, placing them over his lap, flicking off her gold sandals. Planting a brief hot kiss on her lips when she glanced up at him in surprise. “There, we have the clinging covered. You’re practically a barnacle. What else?”
Hadleigh sighed but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “There’s supposed to be some snuggling, some smooching and if you play your cards right, which no doubt you intend to, a little under the sweater action.”
“Crap, it’s too warm for a sweater.” He glanced down at his pale blue t-shirt. “But you’re good at improvising.”
“I am.” Hadleigh patted Vaughn’s warm t-shirt covered chest. “Now shut up and watch the movie.”
“I think you’re forgetting something.”
Hadleigh glanced at the array of snacks, her current position practically sitting in Vaughn’s lap and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“What about the big finale?”
“Big finale?” Hadleigh’s heart began to speed up and things low in her body began to melt and liquefy.
“Hmmm, last time I believe we were interrupted but at the end of the evening there is supposed to be the hot goodnight make-out session at your front door when I take you home. Before your father storms out and breaks it up by frying my ass with a lightning bolt.”
“If you insist upon living out that little fantasy, I think my father could easily be persuaded to participate.”
Vaughn laughed heartily.
“And as for the first part, I’m totally on board.” Hadleigh turned slightly, leaning up to kiss her meld mate slowly and thoroughly. “I might even be willing to let big bad you, convince naïve innocent little me, to invite you inside.”
Heat leapt in the burnished gold depths of Vaughn’s eyes, his cock stirring. “That sounds like a very good addition to the rules.”
“It does, doesn’t it.” Hadleigh grinned at him before turning to face the screen and snuggle back, sighing contentedly.
It was that soft sigh that stopped Vaughn from suggesting they skip all the small date stuff and head straight to the fantasy. Hadleigh had arranged tonight. Laid out a range of healthy snacks that she despised. Dressed up in a golden silky sundress that was far from her habitual black tactical pants, matching top and shit-kicker boots. Right at this moment, she was content and happy just to snuggle with him here on the sofa.
Fuck, that made him happy too. Happier still when a few minutes later Hadleigh’s hand slipped under his t-shirt and those talented fingers of hers began to explore his abs and chest in a teasing manner. What were those rules again? Oh, yes, he got to trade smooches with his wife. Damn, he was a lucky, lucky man.
* * *
Marcus sighed, it was well past eleven and he was antsy and unsettled. He wasn’t tired, he was frustrated.
He’d run out of ideas on how to destroy the chaos rubies. No progress had been made in the search for Sek and Mot. And his hacker team were hitting nothing but walls when it came to identifying the remaining two assassins.
Shifting on his chair, Marcus was forced to acknowledge that he wasn’t just frustrated mentally but physically. A night spent heating up the sheets with Riya should have quelled the hunger that simmered in his gut. Yet his hormones continued to spike while his cock kept twitching as hot flashback after even hotter flashback flickered through his head, making it hard to concentrate and even harder to sit still.
Damn, head in the game soldier. Returning his attention to the wall sized screen currently full of a series of graphs depicting the housing market in several cities worldwide, Marcus forced himself to study the spreadsheet. Maat Enterprises had a lot of their funds invested in the Paris, Sydney, San Francisco and New York housing markets. The question on the table was whether to expand their investments, diversify to new markets or off load existing holdings?
The numbers all but swam together and it was official, his ability to concentrate was shot, the soft, tentative knock on his office door was a welcome break. Marcus grinned, that had to be Riya, looking to make mistake number eight… or was that nine? Who cared, all that mattered was that his large desk was plenty sturdy and the perfect place for them to make their next mistake.
Raking fingers through his hair, Marcus counted slowly to ten, didn’t want to look too eager. Shit, he was acting like a teenager with a crush. Opening the office door, it took all of his Warrior training to mask his disappointment.
“Hi, I’m sorry to call around so late.” The voice, low and breathy, belonged to Belinda Forrest. “I spoke with a very helpful security guard in the lobby and he said it would be fine for me to come up and that you would probably still be working.” Eyelashes fluttered, big brown limpid eyes glancing up, tinged with just a hint of shyness, landing on Marcus briefly before shifting over his shoulder to scan the large empty office.
“Sure, come in.” Marcus invited begrudgingly. He would be having a long talk with security in the morning. No doubt they had taken one look at Belinda, all but falling out of her flimsy white dress, handed over a passkey and collapsed into a pool of drool.
With a flicker of an eye, Marcus scanned his visitor from head to toe. Strappy white stiletto sandals, flowing hemline that fell to her knees, the material parting as she walked, giving brief glimpses of toned creamy thighs. The dress was cinched in tight at the waistline, highlighting how thin Belinda was. And the neckline, which threatened to fall off her shoulders, drew attention to her perky full breasts and the pure expanse of white skin at her throat. Her light blonde hair was pulled back in a casual knot at the base of her skull, several long tendrils left loose, dancing around her slender neck and exposed shoulders.
Other men might have spent longer soaking in all of Belinda’s waifish charms, but not Marcus, who’d assessed and catalogued her in two nano-seconds. So he didn’t miss the way her gaze travelled around his office, scoping every surface, every object. From the fractal art on the walls, to the comfy leather couches off to one side, and the bar. Then her focus shifted to his desk before settling on the wall screen, full of graphs and numbers.
“You’re working. I’m sorry to interrupt.”
Marcus didn’t have a lot of avenues open to him. Belinda Forrest was currently acting co-director of Forrest Media. She could make life difficult for Maat Enterprises if she chose to wield that power. “It’s no problem.”
A tentative coy smile pulled up the edges of full lips. “Thank you. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a drink? A gin and tonic, if you have it?” Belinda’s smile widened in appreciation as Marcus moved to the antique bar and began preparing her drink, the rear view was just as inviting as the front. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. Don’t get me wrong, the Penthouse suite at the St Regis is lovely but it’s kind of… lonely too.” Belinda floated around the room, finally perching on the arm of the nearest leather sofa, the hemline of her dress falling away to expose the length of one leg.
“Here.” Marcus met Belinda’s gaze, his eyes locked determinedly on hers.
“Oh, I hate to drink alone.” Eyelashes fluttered as Belinda leant forward to take the glass. Marcus was already turning back to the bar so he missed the slight flattening of those full sensual lips when he failed to appreciate the expanse of cleavage on display. “I was really young when I married Freddy. He was so determined to sweep me off my feet, I didn’t stand a chance.”
Marcus poured himself a glass of whiskey and turned, considering the most strategic position to sit. Not the leather sofa, that would put him at risk of being eye level with all that exposed thigh warring with the neckline that looked like any moment it would fall to reveal clearly unbound and perky breasts.
Marcus wisely chose higher ground.
Leaning back against the nearest wall, he crossed one leg over the other and sipped his drink. Nodding politely to show that he had been listening. The sooner he found out why she was here, the sooner he could kick Belinda Forrest out on her over-aerobicized skinny ass.
“Of course I wasn’t prepared to be an instant full-time mother, I’d barely left school myself and there was so much to do. Thank God for boarding schools. I’d always wanted to travel and Fred was eager to show me the world. And then he got sick, they were the three worse days of my life as he lay there in that hospital.” Belinda shuddered delicately.
“Fred was a great guy. Tough but fair. It took us all by surprise.”
“Yes.” Belinda’s lower lip trembled just ever so slightly and a glimmer of moisture sheened her eyes. Glancing up through thick lashes she managed a brave smile, straightening her shoulders. An action which sent the material barely clinging to her left shoulder slipping down another precarious inch. Marcus’s assessing dark blue eyes didn’t so much as twitch in response. A brief flicker of annoyance flashed through brown eyes, so quick if Marcus hadn’t been looking for it he would have missed it. Belinda was definitely here with an agenda. But was it seduction or for something else? “He was my rock. And then the lawyers couldn’t find his latest will, and we had to revert to the one written up before we were married, and then that had to go through the legal system and probate.”
“Tough.”
“Very. It was like I was frozen.”
“You mean his assets were frozen? And you had to live on a court appointed allowance?”
“Well, yes, but I was talking about me.” Belinda fisted her hand, placing it over her heart, drawing attention to the barely doing its job anymore neckline. “My heart. My body. To be a widow so young…” Belinda sighed heavily. “… so alone.” A faint shudder rippled down her spine, her whole body drooping slightly, breathing slightly jagged, as if she was holding back a sob.
Bloody Hell. Marcus remained glued to the wall in horror. What was he supposed to do? Shit, Belinda sent him a shy, pleading glance, obviously seeking comfort. Hell, no. You wouldn’t catch him within ten feet of this woman. The helpless sex kitten act didn’t fool him, Belinda Forrest was trouble, and nightmarish complications personified.
There were so many problems with this scenario, he didn’t know where to start. Marcus had liked and admired Fred Forrest for his fairness and business savvy. Defiling the man’s widow was not a fitting tribute. There was also the fact that Belinda, as acting co-director of Forrest Media, currently had a lot of sway over when and where their TV show was distributed. They needed that continuing high profile to act as a smokescreen for their supernatural hunts.
Getting involved with Belinda, no. On the other hand, as she released another soft, uneven breath, if he didn’t comfort the widow then he might get them into just as must trouble. Shit, complicated women. See, this was why Marcus avoided them like they were a cracked nuclear warhead.
Crap, on lead filled legs he moved forward, looming over her. Now what? Marcus raised a hand and then paused. Where exactly could he place his hand and still be considered respectful? Bloody hell, there was too much bare flesh exposed by the loose neckline of her dress, he was in serious trouble here. Shit, and Belinda was beginning to lean in to him, if Marcus didn’t make the first move this situation would spiral out of control fast.
Fuck. He settled for patting her on the head. Pat. Pat. And he should say something. “There.” Pat. “There.” Pat.
Riya walked into Marcus’s office, expecting to find him hard at work, instead she was witness to one of the most awkward physical encounters between a man and a woman, ever. Marcus awkwardly patting Belinda Forrest’s head like she was an unhappy puppy. And Belinda, wraith like and pale, leaning damsel in distress like against Marcus, seeking comfort and by the look of that neckline, something a lot more physical.
Riya dumped the basket of snacks she was carrying and feigned surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company.” The looks that were shot her way were such extremes that she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Sheer relief on Marcus’s gorgeous face and thwarted annoyance on Belinda’s. “Is everything okay?”
“Belinda just stopped by to…” Marcus frowned, Belinda really hadn’t stated a reason for her presence.
“To check on Dimity? See how we went in New York?” Riya queried in a sugary tone.
Belinda straightened, smoothing back a tendril of blonde hair. “Yes. Dimity. I believe there was an incident?” Belinda’s brown eyes were filled suddenly with concern and worry.
Huh, too little too late. Riya ground her teeth together, the gall of this woman. Flouncing in here, wearing a dress that was all but falling off, and seriously, the sheer fabric more than hinted at the size and colour of her nipples. Talk about redundant. The young widow had clearly come here tonight with seduction on her mind, intending to hit Marcus with a double whammy.
Of course. Breathy Belinda hadn’t realised what a control freak Marcus was. That he wouldn’t be blinded by some bouncing unbound breasts. He would have assessed all the pros and cons of getting involved with Belinda and run a mile. If they weren’t in his office, that was.
Grrr, Riya was surprised to find her stomach was flooded with a red-hot burning sensation. This brazen bitch had thought she could just sashay in here and hit on Marcus? Her Marcus? Well, not her Marcus. But the man she was currently not in a relationship with. The man to whom she had absolutely no emotional attachments. But on the physical side of things, that was different. They had an agreement, didn’t they?
Not a spoken one. A kind of mutual non-verbal, unspoken, unacknowledged, sexual agreement.
Riya glanced at Marcus to double check she hadn’t misread his relief at her presence. Ocean blue eyes met hers, and a small welcoming smile tugged up the corner of those sensual lips, just for her.
Yeah, that settled it. The bitch had invaded her territory. It was a dragon thing. Even as she made the connection, Riya realised that she was being overly territorial, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. Historically, trespassers were usually set alight and left to burn for days with magical dragon fire as a warning to others.
But Riya wasn’t just half-dragon, she was also her mother’s daughter.
“And you came personally to check up on Dimity? That’s so nice. Oh, but look at your gorgeous dress, it must have gotten caught on something.” Riya was across the room in three seconds flat, hauling up the neckline of Belinda’s dress. “Lucky for you I always carry an emergency sewing kit on me at all times.”
Belinda tried to get away, but Riya was too strong. “I… no…”
“Careful.” Riya warned. “You don’t want to get stuck by a pin, do you?” She kept her voice light and sweet, even as she yanked on the neckline of the dress once more, hiking it up even higher, again causing Belinda to squawk with barely suppressed outrage.
“This is a Michael Kors!”
“I know Michael.” Riya supplied in an overly cheerful tone. “And he’d be appalled at how easily this seam has come apart. Why, it’s almost like someone took some scissors to it. Don’t you worry, I’ll have it fixed in no time. To think, you might have completely spilled out the top without me, talk about a double nip slip faux pas.”
Marcus, who had returned to lean against the wall, choked on his whisky slightly. Riya was handling Belinda with all the gentleness of a rambunctious toddler patting a baby chick. Belinda was definitely going to have some bruises come the morning.
“I… you… stop... ouch, did you just stick me?”
“Sorry.” Riya sing-songed. “But I warned you about staying still.”
“You mentioned hearing about an incident in New York concerning Dimity?” Marcus picked up on Belinda’s earlier statement. Something about it bothering him.
“No.” Belinda’s lips were pressed in a flat white line as she sat there quietly steaming as Riya sewed up her dress. “I asked if the New York visit went without incident?”
“No problems. Everything went like clockwork.” Marcus advised calmly, lying between his teeth. “Dimity shows a lot of promise.”
“Oh, that’s strange. Heath’s friend on the board of the Montague redevelopment mentioned some fire damage. A bathroom destroyed and a few other problems.”
Behind Belinda’s back, Riya shot Marcus a grin. Between the two of them they’d been pretty much responsible for all the damage.
Marcus shrugged. “In the course of our investigation into poltergeist activity onsite, we might have disturbed a few squatters who had moved in. We scared them off, so I guess we kind of did the owners a favour.”
Riya winced, remembering the state they’d left the bathroom after their fight with the Fire and then the Ice Demon. Yeah, a favour. “So, did you want to visit with Dimity? It’s a little late, but she might still be up.”
“No. I won’t disturb her.”
“There, all done. You are fit to appear in public once more.” Riya snapped the thread and admired her handiwork.
Belinda glanced down at her dress. The neckline was snug against her collarbone and somehow Riya had managed to drape the material so that all her assets were hidden now by layers of material. “Quite the little seamstress, aren’t you?”
There was an arrogant dismissive edge to Belinda’s voice that Marcus found himself intensely disliking. Riya was much more than a woman who wielded a needle and thread. It kind of made him uncomfortable to realise how often and how loudly he himself had contemptuously looked down on Riya’s occupation and skill set. She was so much more than both her occupation and her magic.
“Okay then.” Marcus pushed off the wall. “I’m assuming you are here so we can go over those figures we talked about earlier?”
Riya shot Marcus a confused look, which cleared up the instant Marcus shot a meaningful glance in Belinda’s direction. “Sure.” She took a few steps back to pick up the basket she’d walked in with. “And I brought wine… for the discussion.” She winked at Belinda. “About the figures.”
Belinda issued a small huffing sound. Standing up she tugged absently at the now unfamiliar high and tight neckline. “It’s late. I shall leave you to it.” She shot Riya a death look, before turning to face Marcus and giving him a warm, sexy smile. “Thank you for the drink.” Somehow her tone seemed to imply that much more had gone on here this evening than a mere drink. With a swish of her hips, Belinda was gone.
Riya leaned over to shut the door behind their visitor.
“My hero.” Dark blue eyes sparkled with amusement.
“You’re welcome. Though I get the feeling it should be Belinda who is the one thanking me. I’m not sure how much more of your well meaning comfort she could have taken without having her vertebra dislocated.”
Marcus laughed, a warm rich sound that made things tighten and liquefy at the same time between Riya’s legs. “Funny you should mention my brand of roughness.” Marcus closed the distance between them, looming over her, backing Riya up slowly, deliberately. “When Belinda knocked, I thought it was you.” A few steps more. “And my very first thought was of us, doing it, here on my desk. Wondering if it would take our combined weight or not.”
Riya came to an abrupt halt as her butt hit the edge of Marcus’s huge desk. “This desk?”
“The very one.” There was a sexy predatory smile on Marcus’s gorgeous face that all but melted Riya’s knees.
She let go of the basket of wine and snacks, ignoring it as it hit the plush carpet with a muffled thud, gripping the edge of the desk in anticipation. “So you’re up for another mistake? I wasn’t sure.” She stopped talking as Marcus took one big step forward, pressing against her, their body heat intermingling.
Marcus leaned down, lips travelling over the sensitive skin at the side of Riya’s throat. “Definitely.” He placed a hot kiss just below her ear. “Always.” Another kiss. “What do they say?” Another kiss. “… the best lessons learnt in life come from the mistakes you make.”
Riya reached up, sinking her fingers into his thick black hair. “Here’s to many more mistakes.” Pressing her lips hard against his. Fire danced in her veins, and she wanted, needed to be with Marcus right at this moment. Not to claim her territory, no, nothing so dramatic, she just wanted to remind him… brand him, so that he would remember just who he was in a non-relationship with currently. Yes, that was all, just one more little, hot, naked, mistake… maybe two.