Black Collar Queen (Black Collar Syndicate Book 2) (14 page)

She lists a little to
the side as the elevator descends, and Seth tugs her upright. “Are you drunk,
Em?”
 

“I don’t have the
tolerance you do.” She pouts, and he laughs, wrapping an arm around her
shoulders as they wander out of the elevator and toward the private pool. It’s
deserted, the room warm and smelling of chlorine and memories.
 

Pool rooms always conjuror
memories of Caleb and high school. She slips out of the cover-up and he looks
away as she moves to the edge of the water, dipping a toe in hesitantly. A
smile turns her lips. He pulls out the bottle of rum, taking a thoughtful swig
as Emma eases her way into the warm water.
 

“Come on. Therapy.”

He rolls his eyes and
toes off his shoes. His button-down goes next, exposing his skinny torso and
tapering waist, and she flushes, swimming to the edge of the pool and reaching
for the rum as Seth slides his jeans down.
 

They spent too long
together on the island to not be comfortable together—and she saw him in less
when they were doing surgery before that—but it’s different watching him strip
now. She shakes her head and swallows some rum as Seth lowers himself into the
water. He winces as some of his weight hits his shoulder, and she reaches for
him instinctively. Then he’s submerged and Emma slides away, watching his face
as the strain eases.
 

They swim in silence for
a while, drinking until her stomach twists and she retreats to the edge of the
pool, lying on a chair while Seth swims and floats on memories.

“Why don’t you trust
him?” he asks, and she doesn’t need to ask whom. It irritates her that he keeps
bringing up Rama—she is content here, floating on the high and moment with him.
But the question is waiting, and she would never willingly disappoint Seth.

She shrugs, eyes closed
as she lolls on the chair. “Because he’s not us. And I don’t trust him not to
change his mind—what happens when he decides he doesn’t want me?”

There’s a splash, and
she opens her eyes and then he’s crouching next to her, water clinging to his
eyelashes as he stares at her. “Do you think he will?”

“It’s not that unusual,
Seth,” she says, her stomach twisting as her heart beats impossibly hard. She
forces a smile.
 

“Anyone who doesn’t want
you is blind. And an idiot,” he says, touching her cheek, eyes soft.
 

She moves before either
of them can react, pressing her lips to his in a fleeting kiss. His fingers are
still a searing heat against her cheek, and she can taste rum and chlorine and
pot on his lips, and a unique spicy flavor that is all Seth. His fingers curve,
slightly, holding her to him, and she catches his lip in her teeth, biting
lightly as she arches up to him.
 

He jerks away, and his
eyes are wide and stunned.
 

“What the fuck?” he
spits. His lips are glossy and red, and she can’t help but stare at them,
fascinated. His fingers twitch as she licks her own lips, catching the taste of
him.
 
She shrugs, a carefully careless
movement.
 

“You don’t want me. Why
should Rama?”
 

Seth doesn’t say
anything as she lies back down, and she closes her eyes, waiting for him to
yell or storm out. Instead, he sighs and reaches for the almost empty bottle of
rum, dropping into the chaise next to her. “Is this how your evenings with
Caleb went too?”

She snorts, a surprised
laugh escaping her, and Seth smirks. The expression fades too quickly, and he
says, softly, “Emma.”

“I know, Seth. I know.”
She closes her eyes, and they sit in silence, each lost in thought.
 

Chapter 19.
The Golden Buddha Thai Restaurant, Midtown, November 15
^th
 

Rama
Glances Over The Room Again
. Kai is in the back, managing the kitchen staff. The prince is
nervous, absurdly so. It’s a dinner—that is all. A dinner with the woman he
loves and the king he has chosen to serve. It's not a meeting to decide any
important details. Just a meal, a gathering of royals at court.

That's all. That is more
than enough.
 

He shakes his head,
trying to dislodge the thoughts. The guards at the front of the little
restaurant are stirring and Rama shifts, rising from his chair. He watches as
the Bentley glides to a stop and Dom slips out, scanning the street as he opens
the door. He helps Emma out and Rama pauses, staring at her, all red-gold hair
and warm smiles in a vintage green dress and fuck-me red heels.
 

For a moment, blue eyes
lazily look around and he can see Caleb, and his heart hurts. Then Seth steps
out of the car behind her, and she looks up at him. That is all Emma, the pure
adoration that she has always given him, as he places a hand at the small of
her back. She reaches up and adjusts his tie, patting it, a gesture so
comfortably thoughtless.

Seth ushers Emma inside,
and Rama straightens as they pause in the doorway, taking in the empty dining
room, assessing it for threats before moving deeper, to where he waits.
 

“Good day, Ratchaphure,”
Seth says formally, extending a hand. Rama shakes it and dips his head.
 

When he looks up, Emma
fills his view, and he sees the delicate necklace she's wearing—a thin gold
chain and four petal flower resting on the high neckline of her dress.
 

For a moment, it's like
meeting her again—ridiculous bows and a necklace of flowers and so much beauty
it's hard to breath. Will she ever not take his breath away? He stares long
enough that a flush rises in her cheeks. It pulls him from his thoughts, to
wave at the table.

"Sit, please."

They do, Seth holding
Emma’s chair as she sits down. She leans back, and despite the flower dangling
at her throat, she’s reserved, not looking at him.
 

His heart drops as they
arrange themselves, almost ignoring him. Seth leans down and murmurs something
in Emma’s ear and she nods slightly.
 

Anger blossoms. He snaps
an order in Thai, and it draws Emma’s gaze. She smirks, the first crack in her
reserve.
 

One of the kitchen staff
appears with a bottle of Mekong whiskey, tiny porcelain cups and a boat of
sushi and sashimi. He nods his thanks, and Emma frowns. She isn’t used to
seeing this brusque side of him, but then, she has only known Rama as a
lover.
 

Seth glances at Emma and
she leans forward, pouring three shots of whiskey. Both men watch her, the move
so feminine and domestic. As if she has been to a hundred sit-downs, and
defused a thousand tempers——like a geisha quietly owning the moment.

This
is how
, Rama thinks,
she is used
.
As a distraction and something to be underestimated. He makes a soft noise and
her blue gaze lifts, almost lazily. There’s danger lurking in her eyes, and his
mouth goes dry as she extends the shot.
 

Then her lips curve into
a smile and she says softly, “To the success of our joint venture.”
 

The scale flips. The
formal tension slides into sexual tension. The eye contact weights into flashes
of desire, and he swallows thickly. He looks away, at Seth, who makes the
tiniest one-sided smirk.

“
Chok dee
,” Rama says, and they drink.

He watches Emma grimace
with a reserved smile. She's used to less abrasive drinks, but here, in his
territory, they will do things his way, the Thai way. He thinks momentarily of
the girls in his bars at home, passing the whiskey and chattering about the
previous night's spoils. Then he shakes himself. There's no place for thoughts
like those now.

“So, how are things
within your syndicate? This move must be making waves among your people,” Seth
says.

Rama's eyebrows lift
before he can stop them. Seth never asks about the Ratchaphure's well-being.
Rama never considered that the Morgan would give a shit.

He says, “Perhaps. If
there are waves, they're waves of excitement. My people have been waiting for a
long time to make this step.”

Emma's eyes widen and
she glances at him. It's such a subtle hint at Caleb, but it stings none the
less. He ignores her attention, picking out a couple pieces of tuna, and a
couple from the Dragon Roll—eel, avocado, and cucumber. He continues.

“We're just waiting for
the green light from you.”

Seth's loading a few
pieces of sashimi, and sampling the Dragon Roll and the Imperial Roll. He waits
to reply, dipping a piece in his soy sauce and savoring the flavor. He moves
with such ease, and a patience that grates on Rama's nerves. Always, Seth ekes
out every bit of drama in every situation, draws out the moment with unerring
skill. It's not quite the seduction in which Rama is so practiced, but it falls
along the same vein. He takes a sip of water, then finally grants an answer.

“You'll have that green
light just as soon as I've discussed the matter with my Cuban colleagues.”

Rama chews his tuna
slowly, staring at the king with a careful mask. Seth is not the only one who
can manipulate the dynamic among them. Rama had to teach Caleb the same damn
thing. He dabs his lips with his cloth napkin, then folds it into his lap—a
flaunting show of western etiquette.
 

He says, “You haven’t
spoken to him?”
 

“For a venture like
this, after the regime change, I think it would be best for this meeting to
happen in person. A show of respect. And I would like him to meet Emma.”
 

Emma's head jerks toward
Seth, open surprise playing her features. So Seth didn't even tell her. Anger
makes a rise in Rama's gut.

He leans forward, that
apparent anger flashing in his eyes. “You will take her? She just came
home.”
 

“That isn’t up for
discussion,” Seth says sharply.
 

Rama opens his mouth to
say something and Emma stands abruptly. “Excuse me.”
 

The boys watch her go,
watch the frustration manifest in her movements. Of course she'd be mad that
Seth blindsided her in a formal setting. Or is the anger for him? It’s so hard
to read her these days.

“Taking her is
dangerous,” Rama says. “Why is this important? You are a king; why are you
asking permission for this?”

“I respect the Cubans. I
won’t betray that alliance, just like I wouldn’t betray an alliance with you,”
Seth says evenly. This is a king, quietly disapproving.
 

Rama flushes and Seth
leans back, studying his ally. “I know that you love her—she told me about the
tattoo. But she isn’t yours to protect.”
 

The Thai prince sits
forward, furious suddenly. “I took bullets for her, Morgan.”
 

Seth doesn’t react to
his anger and it dissipates, slows to fascination as he watches the Morgan king
pour two more shots.
 

“I understand and
respect that. I am grateful for that devotion. But Emma is my cousin,
my
queen. She is a Morgan first and
always.” He lifts one of the shots and extends it. His voice hardens, turns
frigid. “And I’ll kill anyone who threatens her. Don’t presume that I'd put her
in harm's way.”
  

Rama takes the shot and
stares hard at Seth. “Trusting anyone to protect Emma is difficult.”
 

Seth smiles, and the
king is gone, suddenly. “Believe me, friend. I know.”
 

Rama hesitates, and
then, “How do you deal with everything threatening her?”
 

Seth grins and shrugs.
“I try to trust her. If I could, I'd send guards to the bathroom with her. But
she's a Morgan—being safe is not in our nature. And she would never tolerate
it.”
 

“She doesn’t listen to
you?” Rama asks, eyes widening and tone raising in pitch.
 

Seth laughs, “No. Why do
you think she first went to your club?”
 

“I went because you
needed information,” Emma says tartly. Seth’s gaze lifts to her, and Rama
starts to turn.
 

And the world
explodes.
 

Gunfire fills the air,
and the front window shatters into a rain of glass. Seth shouts—her name—and
Rama shields his face with his arm.
 

Guards are yelling,
returning fire, and Rama shouts an order. He flips the heavy wood table on its
side to shield them. Then he drops down to where Emma is crouched. Her arm is
bleeding, her dress splattered with bits of glass and blood. Her eyes are
furious.
 

There’s a lull in the
gunfire and then, a mocking voice. “Come out, little Morgan whore!” Seth stands
suddenly, his guns drawn.
 

“No,” Rama shouts,
jerking the gun down. Seth wheels on him, his eyes furious as Rama calls an
order in Thai.
 

There’s another spatter
of gunfire and Emma jerks hard on Seth’s leg.
 

“Get down, you idiot,”
she snaps.
 

“What the hell are you
doing, Rama?” Seth snarls. His eyes are wild, and it occurs to Rama that he has
never seen Seth like this—furious and out of control, driven to protect the
person who means the most to him.
 

“I want them alive,”
Rama says softly. “And my men will bring them.”
 
Seth meets his eyes and smiles.
 

“It’s clear,” Dom yells,
and Emma springs to her feet. She’s shaking, and for a moment, Rama wonders if
she is hurt more than he believes. But then she curses, and the knot of fear
relaxes a little.
 

“Kai,” he calls. There’s
a shuffle and the large Thai guard drags a man into the destroyed
restaurant.
 
He’s unconscious but Seth’s
eyes narrow.
 

“He doesn’t work with
Oliver—I don’t know who he is.
Fuck
!”

Rama has heard of the
outrageous tantrums Seth is so renowned for, and he wonders if he's about to
see one. He waits, quietly, like the good Buddhist he is, but it doesn't come.
Instead, Seth stills, and the only evidence of his rage is in his eyes.
 

“You have a truce with
them,” Emma says, her voice shaking. Dom comes up on one side of her, and she
takes the wet towel from him absently. She swipes at her arm and hisses.
 

“I do.” Seth glances at
her, and his eyes widen. “What the fuck is that?”
 

“It grazed me,” she says
absently. “If we have a truce, than why the hell did he just order a hit?”
 

“Emma. Sit down and let
Tinney wrap that up—you just got shot for fuck’s sake.” Seth says, exasperation
leaking into his tone.
 

“I will get your
answers,” Rama says coldly. “Leave the
yet
mae
to me.”

“Rama,” Emma
starts.
 

“He attacked my
territory,” Rama says, looking at Seth, ignoring Emma completely. “And he
attacked her while she wore my mark. By rights, he is mine to deal with. I will
get the answers you want before I kill him.”
 

Emma gasps softly but
neither of them look at her. Seth stares at Rama for a long moment, and then
nods. “We leave for Cuba tomorrow. Deal with this shit,” he says, his tone
hard.
 

Rama gives him a cold
smile, and Seth pulls Emma closer. She’s swaying, the ugly gash on her arm
trailing blood down her elbow and forearm to drip down her fingers. Tinney
appears from nowhere, his hands utterly gentle as he cleans and wraps the
wound. She whimpers once, but her face remains blank as he tends to her.
Finally the assassin steps back and Seth shifts.
 

“Emma, let’s go.” He
nods once at the Thai prince, standing too still and quiet in the dining room.

Rama inclines his head
slightly. Tinney and Dom usher the Morgans to their waiting Bentley, and Rama
is left standing in the wreckage of his restaurant, the would-be assassin at
his feet.