Savage Betrayal: Savage, Book 2 Page 6

  “Grace.”

  “Grace? Uh, one moment.” There was silence for nearly a minute, and then, “All right, stay where you and you’ll be brought up.”

  Grace didn’t bother to stop a derisive laugh, even though she knew he’d disconnected.

  The elevator doors whisked closed and the shaft eased upward in a slow, steady pace. It climbed the innards of the building until reaching the top floor.

  When the door slid open, Grace stepped outside into the hallway of the penthouse condo.

  “Grace?”

  She hadn’t seen the man practically hiding to the left of the elevator, and irritation pricked as she swung to address him.

  “Yes?”

  Jeez, he was young. Beautiful Abercrombie face and a chest to match. Had Jocelyn been trolling the community college for a new assistant?

  “I’m Ms. Feloray’s assistant.” His gaze slid over her. Quick. Appraising. A move he’d probably mastered at the local nightclubs and bars. “Come in, she’s expecting you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You look familiar. Have we met?” he asked lightly, his gaze intense as it searched hers.

  Really? Not so original with the pickup lines, if that’s what this was. Though she doubted she was anywhere near his type.

  “Trinity nightclub. Bathroom stall for, oh about, five minutes. Wow, I’m flattered you’d remember me.”

  He swung back around, disbelief and embarrassment reddening his face. “Labor Day Weekend? Wait, that was you?”

  Damn. She’d been spot-on about his type.

  “No.” She flashed him a hard smile. “Thanks for the escort in, but I can take it from here.”

  She moved past him, repulsed by his sleaze. Not to mention there was something else that was just off about him. She stepped out of the hallway and through the front door of the condo. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows revealed a view that must’ve cost millions. Beyond the handful of smaller buildings in front of them, white ferries glided across the choppy waves of Puget Sound.

  She wasn’t interested in the view from the penthouse, but more the owner of the condo.

  She crossed the opulent living room and followed the scent of some kind of tomato sauce simmering in the kitchen.

  The woman who stood next to the extravagant stove hardly looked a day over thirty, though she had to be pushing fifty now. Her slender body was attired in what looked like a designer dress—probably costing more than Grace’s monthly salary.

  “Well now, how domestic is this? Jocelyn Feloray doing her own cooking.” Grace’s voice dripped disdain as she moved into the other woman’s line of vision.

  “I enjoy cooking every now and then.” Jocelyn looked up and offered a slow, predatory smile. “It’s Grace, right?”

  If Jocelyn’s intent had been to goad her into anger, she’d be disappointed.

  Grace leaned back and braced her elbows on the marble countertops. “I’m sure it would be all too convenient for you to forget my existence, but I’m not that obliging to disappear so nicely.”

  “A bit of humor, darling. Forgive me. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you.”

  “Yes. What, probably about fourteen weeks now?” Grace’s jaw flexed, and she wasn’t quite able to hide the bitterness buried within her. “If I remember correctly, the last time I saw you, you were looking on as some disgusting pig shoved a needle in my thigh.”

  “Mmm. True. Except he wasn’t a pig, he was a wolf.” Jocelyn shrugged. “Or half, if we’re being technical. Not that there’s much of a difference between full-blooded and half any longer.”

  Jocelyn’s pleasant veneer cracked a bit as Grace spotted the flash of fury in her eyes. But then it was gone, and she was once again stirring her sauce and back into faux domestic goddess mode.

  “Yes, I really should thank you for that. It’s one thing you did right—creating a drug that gives all my half-shifter brother and sisters the ability to change into the wolf they were destined to be.”

  Jocelyn shuddered, obviously trying to suppress her anger now. “That is disgusting and was never my intention.”

  “I don’t know. I thought it was karma at its absolute finest.”

  Setting the spoon on a holder, Jocelyn turned to face her. “Is there a reason you’ve come here today?”

  “Oh, I think you know why I’m here. Did you have something to do with Thom Wilson’s death?”

  She arched a brow. “Who?”

  “Don’t screw with me. You know exactly who I’m talking about. He was one of the victims of your horrific experiments.”

  “Victims? Oh, please. You all signed up willingly to be a part of the test phase of the drug, darling.”

  Grace let that little remark fly. For now. Willingly was stretching it. “He was found dead over the weekend. A suicide.”

  Though Jocelyn’s brows rose appropriately, Grace didn’t miss the flash of satisfaction in her eyes.

  “Well now, that really is tragic.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Such language,” Jocelyn mocked. “Your mother should’ve taught you some manners.”

  White-hot fury exploded inside Grace, and her fingers curled into fists as she felt the wolf demand to come out and draw blood. Her nails pricked the palm of her hand and she had to slow her breathing to restrain herself.

  “Had she lived long enough, I’m sure she would’ve. Not that I’d waste manners on a lowlife like yourself,” she ground out and pulled away from the counter, advancing on the older woman. “Did you send someone to try and kill me today?”

  Genuine shock flickered in Jocelyn’s eyes now. “Kill you? No. What happened?”

  Grace stared her down for a moment, and then turned away. So it was possible Jocelyn wasn’t behind the death-by-minivan attack this afternoon.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But, Grace—”

  “We’re done here.” She shook her head and headed out of the kitchen. In the doorway she paused and glanced back at the woman who’d made her life hell. “I’d better not hear about anymore suicides. Do we have an understanding?”

  Jocelyn just lifted a shoulder and gave another brief smile. “Ultimately, the choice was his? Was it not?”

  Grace turned and walked away. “I’m still waiting on the autopsy.”

  “Beer? Whiskey?”

  Darrius studied the two options on the table in front of him, then glanced back up at Larson.

  “You look like you could use one or the other,” Larson added.

  Reaching for the beer, Darrius gave a jerk of his head to mark his appreciation. “Thanks. I think I do, actually.”

  The bar they were in was dark, near empty, and filled with the tormented voice of Kurt Cobain from an old Nirvana album.

  The Doornail was an unspoken shifter hangout located in a hole in the wall in Pioneer Square. The building had to be over a century old, and the pub itself had resided on the first floor for nearly as long. It had been owned and operated for three generations by the Neilson shapeshifter family.

  “Good choice.” Larson tossed back the shot and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “It’s fucking weird not having Donovan here as much.”

  “The guy’s married now, has a wife to take care of, and all that jazz.”

  Larson’s mouth twitched. “Sienna can take care of herself pretty damn well, from what I understand.”

  “Yes. But there’s the love factor and being mated bit. Makes you all crazy and not want to be away from your significant other for any longer than necessary.”

  “Sienna works for the P.I.A. now. She’s right down the hall from him when he’s in the office.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not in the office all that much,” Darrius pointed out. “We’ve been in the field more often.”

  “Yeah. Speaking of. What happened today? The truth, not just what you wrote on the report.”

  Shit. Larson wasn’t just their team leader, but the alpha of their pack. Lying wasn’t
anywhere near an option.

  “Interviewed Thom’s widow. Spoke with the forensic guy for a bit. Then left.” Darrius paused to take a swig of cold beer. “And that’s when Gra— Masterson was nearly run down by some jackass in a minivan.”

  Larson cursed. “Did you catch the plates?”

  “I don’t think I’d be here right now if I had.” No. He’d be out pounding some guy’s face into the pavement.

  Darrius’s fingers tightened around the beer bottle until he felt the slight cracking of glass. He eased up, forgetting his strength.

  “You don’t think it was an accident.”

  “No. I don’t.” There was no point in lying to his alpha. “But Masterson would have my balls if she knew I was telling you this.”

  “Tough shit. It’s your goddamn duty to tell me these things, and I sure as fuck don’t want any of my agents getting hurt.”

  Colin, the pub’s owner, came over at that moment to say hi and grab their food order. Darrius asked for ribs, but wasn’t really hungry. He didn’t even want to be here right now. Everything inside him was coiled tight with the need to check on Grace. To see her again and make sure she was all right.

  “Now tell me. Who would want to hurt Agent Masterson?” Larson asked once Colin had left to deliver their orders to the cook.

  “I don’t know. Feloray Industries? Maybe they want to off all the survivors of the experiments.”

  “That’d make them pretty fucking stupid. And obvious.”

  Which was around the same lines of what he’d been thinking. “I don’t know who else it could be. Who else out there wants her dead?”

  “Maybe not dead. Maybe just messed up a little. Hell, who knows? But I think we’d better keep a closer eye on her.”

  “Already am,” he admitted, before thinking whether it was wise or not.

  “Is that so?” Larson paused as their food was delivered. “Are you going to tell me what’s up with you lately?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You seem a little…protective of Masterson.” He cut into his steak, then lifted his hard gaze again. “A little concerned—more than normal, really—with what’s going on with her.”

  He was, and there was no way he could deny it. He couldn’t explain it either. Not to himself, and sure as hell not to Larson.

  “She’s a fellow agent. Of course I’m concerned about her.”

  Not replying, Larson just crooked an eyebrow as he chewed his steak.

  “Look, if you’re thinking we’re sexually involved, you’re wrong. I’ve never crossed that line with Masterson.”

  Larson pointed the blade of his steak knife at him. “Maybe not yet, but you’d like to.”

  Hell yeah, he’d like to. Which was becoming an intensifying problem.

  “It’s probably not a good idea, you know.” Larson’s warning was a little too casual as he continued to eat.

  “Well, sleeping with a coworker is never a good idea.” Darrius forced his usual shit-eating grin and picked up his ribs. “Makes things messy as hell at the office if things go sour.”

  “To say the least. And Masterson is probably a bit vulnerable right now.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the word I’d pick for her.”

  “You know what I mean. After the shit she went through, she doesn’t need you seducing her for a quick fling. If anything, she needs to find her mate. Someone who will be there for her for the long term.”

  Ouch. But his alpha was right. And Darrius didn’t do long term. Why bother when he knew that none of the women would ever be his mate?

  Larson’s words were a sharp reminder that he wasn’t the only one feeling protective of Grace. The whole team had always kept a close watch on her. And Larson probably felt extra responsibility as her alpha.

  Mouth twisting into a hard smile, Darrius shook his head. “Look, the last thing I want to do is get into Masterson’s pants.” He couldn’t keep the terseness from his voice this time, maybe that came from the bitter taste of lying. “You seem awfully concerned with everyone’s love life, Larson.”

  “Are you questioning my right to be?” Larson gave a soft laugh, but there was a steel edge in it that reminded Darrius of his place.

  They might be friends and shoot the shit out at a bar, but at the end of the day, everyone on their team and pack answered to Nathan Larson.

  “No, I’m not that fucking stupid,” Darrius muttered and finished off his beer. “But since we’re on the subject, how’s all that romantic shit going in your life right now?”

  He watched the flicker of irritation and wariness in his alpha’s eyes. It was almost as if Darrius had asked about a bad case of hemorrhoids instead of his love life.

  “It’s fine.”

  It was common knowledge that Larson was recently engaged to the daughter of an alpha from another pack. A gorgeous, spoiled redhead who screamed high maintenance. The mating had been predicted for years, and would be good politics between the two packs when it ultimately happened.

  “When’s the wedding and mating? You’re the head honcho, Larson.” Darrius couldn’t resist fucking with him a little. “Your pack is getting eager for you to settle down and start producing the next generation.”

  “Fuck you, Hilliard.” Now Larson’s expression went completely sour. “I hear it enough from the elders, I don’t need it from you too. There’s plenty of time for that business.”

  “There is, and I was just giving you shit. Take your time and make sure she’s the right one.”

  “Right one? Sure. As if I have that luxury.” Larson gave a hard laugh and took a swig of beer. “Anyway, what about you? There are plenty of girls you could have fun with for a nice little distraction.” Larson glanced around the bar to where a group of women sat in the corner, watching them and giggling quietly. “See that? The girls love you. Bet you could take any one of then home tonight.”

  Oh, he didn’t doubt it. And some nights he’d done just that. But tonight the idea left him a little cold.

  “I could.”

  “You should. Usually you do. But now that I think of it, I can’t remember the last time you left this bar with a chick. Certainly had to be before that whole rescue op on the feral shifters.” Larson paused, his eyes narrowed. “When we freed Grace.”

  Shit, it hadn’t been that long. Had it? Dismay and unease had Darrius shifting in his seat.

  “I think whatever you’re feeling toward Masterson is probably just you needing to take the edge off.” Larson jerked his head to the right. “Look there. The pretty blonde seems like she’d be willing to help.”

  Darrius didn’t miss the way his alpha’s voice had lost its lightness, but now took on an edge. A warning that reiterated it would be a bad idea to get involved with Grace.

  Maybe Larson was right. Maybe if he spent the night with another woman, it’d ease up on this sudden need for Grace. Right now he felt like a shaken bottle of soda with the cap still on.

  Darrius glanced back at the table of girls, and sure enough the blonde was watching him with extra interest. She was his usual type. Why was he even hesitating? Any other time he would’ve been brushing up on his seduction skills in a heartbeat.

  You’ve got this. He forced himself to give her a slow smile and waited.

  She giggled, whispered something to her friends, and then stood up to make her way over to him.

  “You know, Larson,” Darrius muttered, feeling more confident by the moment, “I think you might just be on to something.”

  Chapter Seven

  Grace stared out the kitchen window into the evening darkness, replaying all aspects of her day. It took the whistling of the kettle to jerk her back to the present.

  She moved away from the counter she had been leaning against and plucked the kettle from the hot stove.

  Her first day back had been both cathartic and a complete nightmare.

  It had felt so good to be back into her normal routine. To be with her team and feel their love and suppo
rt—whether she deserved it or not. They’d invited her for drinks after work, something pretty common in the past. But she’d turned them down.

  She’d already planned to go see Jocelyn, but if she let herself admit it, she also wasn’t quite ready to face sitting across from any of the guys in a social setting. She wasn’t ready to shoot the shit or get back to normal. Did she even know what the hell normal was anymore?

  Stifling a yawn, she already envisioned the evening ahead of her. A book, a blanket and the couch. Perfect.

  She loaded her tea ball with leaves and set it steeping in a mug of hot water before making her way to the bathroom.

  Grace angled her body so she could lift her T-shirt and see her back in the mirror. The pale skin was unmarred. After Hilliard had tackled her out of the way of harm, pushing her against the car, she’d had a dark bruise running up her spine.

  Nodding, she allowed her shirt to fall back into place. That was another perk of being a shifter. Her body healed fast. So fast that scars were a rarity. Though some injuries took longer than others to heal.

  She flinched as she almost felt the sting of a whip against her back. Some images from her captivity during the experiments were easily remembered, some not quite as much. Which she realized she should probably be thankful for.

  As she left the bathroom, she froze, hearing the sound of the front door handle turning.

  Even knowing the only person who could easily get on her property and into her house, she still braced to fight. The tension didn’t ease until her sister stepped inside a moment later.

  “Oh, so you are here.” Aubree smiled tentatively and closed the door behind her. “I called several times, but there was no answer.”

  No, there wouldn’t have been, because she’d been avoiding all phone calls since this afternoon. Guilt pricked lightly, because she knew better than to cut her sister off that way—unintentional though it may have been.

  “I’m sorry, I put my phone on vibrate and it’s been in the bottom of my purse.”

  Aubree crossed the room to hang up her coat. Her slight limp was as much a part of who she was as the blue eyes they’d both inherited from their mother and the chestnut brown hair they attributed to their dad.