“I could help you, though. Let me go and I’ll tell your father you weren’t here. That it was all just a trap.”
She laughed harshly. “Do I have the word ‘stupid’ tattooed across my forehead?”
Then again, today probably wasn’t the best of days to judge her intelligence by. She had gotten herself blood bound and then had rescued her captor…Isaac. She remembered the thug calling him that.
“Can’t blame me for trying,” the assailant said.
It was almost as if he could read her thoughts. “Nope. Guess I can’t.”
Bright light flooded the room, making her blink several times. The man on the floor moaned as he forced himself to sit. He looked well-built under the black turtleneck sweater and cargo pants, but the ski mask prevented her from making out any of his features.
“You don’t have a problem with him handin’ you over to your daddy?”
“Nope.” But only because she didn’t think he was really going to. “And if I were you, I’d be more concerned with what he’s planning on doing with you. Something tells me your interrogation’s going to be a bitch.”
“I’m not concerned. He’s not gonna get anything from me.” The assailant jumped up quickly and pulled his legs though his hollowed-out arms, allowing them to now be in front of him. She instinctually took a step back, but he wasn’t interested in her, only in a small pocket at his wrist. Before she could stop him, he’d managed to pull out a pill and pop it into his mouth. “There’s only one way to escape your daddy,” he said, the pill trapped between his teeth.
“Isaac!”
But as Isaac ran into the room, the assailant threw his head back and swallowed. Isaac managed to pull the man’s ski mask off just as thick white foam started to leak from the pyro’s mouth.
“Jesus, Mitch. I’d say I was disappointed, but…”
“Don’t act so god damned condescending. Everyone has their price. He just hasn’t found yours yet.” That was the last thing the man could say as his body was taken by seizures and then stilled altogether.
“Call your uncle.” Isaac knelt in front of the body, one hand searching out a pulse on his neck. “Tell him he’s going to need a new bartender.”
She turned and started for the door before she had time to think about it. But she wasn’t sure where he’d put her phone and, even if she had it, she didn’t know Gus’ number. Sudden pain exploded in her head, bringing her to her knees as her fingers found her temples of their own accord.
“Shit… Shit! What’s wrong?” The panic in his voice would be comforting if she wasn’t in so much pain.
“Can’t call,” she managed to say through her clasped jaw.
“Fuck. Nikki, stop. Don’t call Gus.”
Instantly, she froze and the pain was blissfully gone. “I don’t know where my phone is,” she said, not getting up. “And even if I did, I don’t have Gus’ number.”
One step brought him to her, and then he was kneeling next to her, his hand running over her hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll choose my words better, I promise.” His eyes swept down her body before he looked away from her. He looked almost sad—almost.
He cleared his throat softly before looking away from her. “If you’d like, there’s lasagna in the stove in the kitchen. I’ll be there as soon as I call Gus.” He looked around to the other dead, black-clad figures on the floor. “And after I get this mess cleaned up.”
She smiled softly at his attempted courtesy. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Not for this.” Guilt colored the sculpted lines of his jaw and worked its way up to his cheeks, leaving a soft red in its wake. He really did feel bad about holding her captive.
Good. That would make manipulating him that much easier.
With a nod, she stood and then set off in the general direction of the delicious smells wafting through the air. Before she could go another round with him, she needed to eat. The chaotic day had left her starving to the point of weakness.
Finding the massive, state of the art room he called a kitchen, she marveled at the man once more. She didn’t even realize real people had kitchens like this. It looked like a cooking show set. Maybe cooking was a passion?
The thought startled her almost to laughter. True, she knew very little about him. But what she did know didn’t exactly scream foodie. He was an enforcer. His name was Isaac. And he was somehow connected to Molly.
Nope, nothing she’d discovered made him out to be the next cooking reality show star.
But still, somehow that man was connected to this kitchen. There had to be some way to make the pieces of this puzzle fit. Once she figured it out, she’d be that much closer to figuring him out. And if she figured him out, she’d know which strings to pull to get him to do exactly what she wanted. The only other thing she’d learned, though, was that he couldn’t use his magic against their attacker.
She stopped to give that more thought. It was a mini-puzzle in its own right.
Why couldn’t he use his magic?
There were only three ways to prevent him from using his magic. Well, four if one counted abstinence. But Nikki was the only one who willingly abstained from using her magic. People tended to look at her like she was crazy when they found out. But she wasn’t. Ironically, the abstinence was what was keeping her sane.
Regardless, the attacker said Isaac couldn’t use his magic, so Isaac’s lack of magic wasn’t by choice. If he’d been blood bound to their attacker he would’ve handed her over, so that crossed that one off. And he hadn’t been wearing Sim cuffs. That only left ink bound.
Most magic wasn’t affected by the ink. It was just a permanent way to track family and alliances. But it was different if the magic manipulated the will and lives of others. For those rare individuals, putting another’s ink in their blood was to grant them immunity. Apparently Isaac belonged to that latter group. Just as Nikki did. Having another’s ink would render her powerless against that family. Even the thought made her shudder in horror. She’d never actually use her magic, but insinuating she would was a powerful threat. Might even be enough to get her out of a tight spot. But it was a bluff Isaac had apparently sacrificed. His beautifully inked torso suddenly didn’t seem like the status symbol she’d originally read it as.
The chiming of the doorbell chased away the troubling thoughts, though.
Awesome. More company. Just what she needed right now.
“That would be some of the enforcers assigned to the police department,” Isaac said as he popped his head through the doorway. She looked down at her calves and thought about asking for her clothes but, in typical guy fashion, he disappeared before she could.
Oh well, if they found her like this—in just his shirt—they’d be less prone to ask questions about why she was at his house in the middle of the night. She’d be nothing more than a seductress in seductive attire. And the fewer questions she had to answer the better, as far as she was concerned.
She rummaged around in the drawers until she found a couple of oven mitts and a trivet. The power outage, as brief as it’d been, had shut off the stove but it hadn’t been off long enough for its contents to cool. She pulled the lasagna out of the oven carefully before setting it on the waiting trivet. And, after grabbing a plate from a nearby cabinet, she dished herself a piece before making her way over to the small table to sit down and eat. She had to breathe through her first couple of bites to cool it. But it was worth it. It was perfection covered in cheese and dipped in sauce.
“Ms. Rathe.”
Startled, she looked up as two enforcer police types walked into the room.
“We need to get your statement before we go.”
Her upper lip twitched with restrained anger as she recognized one of the men. His once-black hair was gray and he now had a paunch and some wrinkles, but she would recognize those beady eyes and sharp nose anywhere. They’d been so distinct they’d garnered him the nickname Officer McRatrick back when he’d been investigating her mother’s death. If one could consider what he’d done an investigation. She sure as hell didn’t.
Okay, he’d brought in the killer. She’d give him that. Grudgingly. But that was where his investigation had ended. The evidence pointed to it being a contracted killing. As young as she was, even she had seen the connections. Everyone in the fucking Community had seen them. Everyone except Officer McRatrick, that is. He refused to budge. And when the investigating officer declares a case closed and the perp is tried and found guilty, everyone’s just ducky.
“Officer McPatrick, I’m surprised you still work for the police.”
He looked up from his pad of paper, his eyes blank with disinterest. “And I’m surprised to find you in a Marrow’s house in nothing but his shirt. Guess today’s just full of fucking surprises.”
She kept her expression as neutral as his and quirked an eyebrow. “Huh, we agree on something. Has someone told Satan to dress warmly today?”
“Can we just get this over with?”
As much as she’d love to make him squirm a little, she wanted to be out of his presence as much as he wanted out of hers. “It’d be my pleasure.”
“Good to hear. So, what the hell happened in there?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes at him, but immediately started recounting the events the best she could—without mentioning the bond, of course.
“And he implicated your father before committing suicide?” McRatrick asked as he jotted down a few more notes.
“Yep.”
“Awfully convenient.”
“Not for him.” She looked up to see Isaac standing in the doorway. He looked really good leaning up against the doorframe. He looked even better walking across the room to stand next to her, though. “Are we finished? My food’s getting cold.”
The younger officer looked through his notes and then nodded stiffly. “I’ve got everything I need. You good, McPatrick?”
“Yeah, we’ll let you get back to your evening.” He stood and then turned to leave but stopped abruptly. “I’m not saying I’m surprised at your choice in company, Marrow, but I had thought better of your judgment. Bringing a Rathe into your home? A seductress, no less. I’d have thought your momma would’ve taught you better.”
Nikki’s body stiffened with a combination of indignant anger and shame. It was mostly anger, and she took some comfort in that. But still, the shame was there. No matter what she did she’d always be a Rathe first, a seductress second, and a person third. A distant third at that.
“My mother taught me many things, McPatrick.” The smile Isaac shot at the other man was menacing. “But no. Avoiding Rathes didn’t make the list. She was too busy brokering alliances, I guess.” He wrapped a protective arm around Nikki’s shoulders. “I could probably learn a thing or two about it from your department, though. Nobody’s better at avoiding a Rathe than your men. Especially if said Rathe has outstanding warrants. I’d even go so far as to say it’s becoming a fucking art form.”
“That’s not true,” Officer McRatrick insisted. “My men are doing everything they can—”
“To stay alive,” Isaac finished. “I know.”
“Don’t you see what’s happening?” McRatrick asked. “That bitch has already started working on you.”
“If you’re referring to my mom, she’s been working on me from day one. If you mean Nikki, however, well…” He gaze worked its way down her body, setting each inch of her on fire with its open appreciation. “I could only be so lucky.”
“Officer Marrow—”
But whatever the man was about to say was lost as Isaac put his hand on McRatrick’s back and escorted him out of the room. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, Officer McPatrick, and you’re dangerously close to insulting an honored guest in my house.”
The laugh escaped Nikki’s lips before she even realized she found the situation amusing. “You have to value someone’s opinion of you before you can find it insulting,” she said to the closed door. “He was nowhere near insulting me.”
Great. Now she was talking to empty rooms. This evening just kept getting better and better. Wine. What she needed was a glass or two—or four—of good wine. And, seeing as there was a beautiful wine fridge in the kitchen, it appeared pretty easy to come by in this house.
Acquiring a glass, however, proved more difficult. They were at the top of one of the tall cabinets. Who would put glasses that high? A freaking giant of a man who didn’t have to worry about something as insignificant as arm span, that’s who.
She sighed to herself as she leaned against the countertop so she could stretch out another inch. Still, her fingertips barely brushed against the edge of the shelf she sought.
“Can I help?”
Warmth encapsulated her as she was trapped between the countertop at her front and the strong wall of Isaac’s chest at her back. For one moment, she allowed the sensation to bring her comfort. But then the moment was over. Turning in the prison of his strong arms, she faced his chest before hopping onto the countertop and spreading her thighs so he’d fall naturally between them.
Things were about to get interesting. “Not sure, what’d you have in mind?”
His gaze immediately fell to her naked thighs but he then shook his head and took a step away from her. “Not going to work, Nikki.”
She blinked in mock innocence. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His gaze followed her thighs until it reached the hem of his shirt. “You’re barely dressed, in my shirt I might add, which is sexy as hell. And, though I usually don’t mind having a bewitching woman straddling me at the kitchen counter, given our current relationship it does make me rather vulnerable.”