Deceptions: A Collection (19 page)

He shot up off the couch. He didn’t make it a foot before Damon was there, shoving him back down. “You’re going to talk to her, Marcus,” he said quietly. “And you’re going to be nice about it.”

The kid went white.

Sighing, I rubbed my hands over my face. “I hate this job,” I muttered. Lowering my hands, I looked at the kid. “Marcus, is that your name?”

That familiar sneer started to spread over his face. I heard a growl coming from somewhere over my head and I swore. “For crying out loud…damn it, kid, if you want to glare at me, I don’t give a flying fuck. I just want to know about Doyle. He’s missing. And if you know much about him, you know he’s probably going to be in trouble if he’s not found soon.”

Marcus swallowed. “He ran away,” the kid said. “The spike was scaring him. Nobody…”

He stopped talking, shooting Damon a look as he suddenly crowded in over my shoulder.

“You’re not helping, Damon,” I told him drily. Leaning forward, I touched the boy’s knee, drawing his gaze back to mine. “Ignore that jerk if you can. I’m trying my damnedest to do it, although it’s kind of hard.”

Something that might have been a smile danced in his eyes before it disappeared, gone all too quick.

“The spike was scaring him,” I prodded. “Did he run away? Was he trying to do something about it?”

Marcus shook his head. “You can’t stop the spiking,” he said. “All you can do is go with it. My brother went through it three years ago and it was hell. But Dad was with him, and both of them said they’ll be there with me when…”

He shrugged. “They’ll be there. Doyle was scared. And nobody cared.”

He flicked another look at Damon. For a second, the faintest glimmer of accusation lingered there. Then it was gone.

“Do you have any idea where he’d go?”

“Sometimes he talked about heading south. Down to the ‘glades.” Marcus smiled, a little sadly. “We always thought it would be fun, you know? Heading down there and doing a real hunt. Not this fake shit they’ve got set up here. But the real deal.”

The Everglades were a protected territory. Nobody can hunt there. Not humans. Not us. Why would the kid think to try? Yeah, there were plenty of wild animals, but still.

Although the forbidden aspect was probably part of the appeal.

Sitting out in the car, resting my head on the steering wheel, I tried to work that piece of information through my aching head.

It wasn’t exactly a quick hike, going to the ′glades, but if the kid was spiking, he’d already have some of the were traits, including speed and stamina. Eventually, even the carriers grew into some of that. They’d never have the full array of shifter gifts, but they’d be stronger than humans, faster. If he was spiking, he could make that trip pretty fast even if he was on foot. Depending on what breed of cat he was, it might even just be a quick jaunt in the park.

The door next to me slammed shut.

“Chang offers his apologies once more.”

I lifted my head and turned the key in the ignition. For the past ten minutes, Damon had been out there talking with the club’s owner—Chang, I assumed.
Yeah, yeah. I don’t care
.

“I feel like I should say I’m sorry, too,” he added.

I revved the engine and took off flying down the road. I needed to go by my office. Wouldn’t hurt to make a few phone calls. I had contacts with the police forces: mortal, Banner and ANH. More than likely, though, one of my ANH or Banner contacts would be the one who would have inside info on anything related to this.

“He asked me to give you this.”

Something white appeared in my line of vision.

And stayed there.

As I slowed for a light, I took the card and tore it into tiny little shreds. Dumping the bits and pieces in the cupholder that I used as a catchall, I shot Damon a look. “Do me a favor. You’re an asshole. Don’t pretend to be otherwise. You’re willing to throw my ass under the bus to find this kid. Fine—I get that. The Alpha is ready to murder to find him. Maybe if I had a nephew, I’d be willing to do the same. I don’t know. You’re willing to rough me up to make sure I understand the rules of your very fucked-up world. Fine. Don’t go getting all bent out of shape because some perverted bastard decided he’d grab my tits and shove his dick against my ass.”

I shot him a narrow look. He stared at me with a stony look on his face.

“You sent me in there as a target—they see me as human, and I had no weapons, nothing,” I said and the words sounded even more stark, thanks to the ruin of my voice. “They saw a target, that’s how I was treated. End of story. Don’t act all sorry about it when it happens.”

Silence fell in the car.

Finally.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, I couldn’t have been any more desperate to call it quits. The sun was still burning in the sky, there were still calls I could have made, but I had several irons in the fire and that was going to have to be enough for now.

I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, my throat was killing me and my head wasn’t much better. The ache in my arm had faded fast enough and the headache was stress-related. All in all, if it wasn’t for my throat, I guess I’d come through the day well enough.

Spinning around in my chair with my back to the bastard shadow, I took a moment to massage my temples and then I touched the skin of my neck. It felt hot—swollen and bruised, pretty much what I’d expected.

I’d already checked it out when I went to the bathroom earlier. One place he didn’t follow me, thank God. I’d taken some Motrin, hoping it would help with the inflammation, although it didn’t do much for the pain.

It looked just as bad as I’d figure it would

Angry red marks and ugly black bruises stood out against pale flesh. I now looked like somebody had tried to smash my throat in—imagine that. There was also bruising along the right side of my face where he’d slammed me down against the trunk, but that wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.

Shutting down my computer, I pushed back from my desk and started shoving files into my bag. There were various police reports and Banner reports I still needed to work through and I might try to do a little more work in the privacy of my own home, away from this bastard, but for now? I was done.

Checking the time, I thought I should probably go ahead and pop another dose of the anti-inflammatories, so I headed into the small bathroom. I hit the light after I’d shut the door and stared at my reflection.

I don’t look like much. Light blonde hair that I kept short. Pale skin. Dark eyes.

Right now the circles under my eyes made them look bruised…rather matched the line of bruises along the left side of my throat where his forearm had smashed against me, the mottled discoloration on my cheek where my face had a close, personal encounter with the car.

Thanks to my sleepless nights, I was color-coordinated with my bruising.

Grimacing, I opened the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Motrin, popped the cap and shook out triple the dose a human would take. Bad thing about my bloodline was that although I healed a little quicker than humans, it took more for human meds to affect me. I was hoping that would also mean it would take more for the meds to damage my liver, because at the rate I was going, I’d be tearing the hell out of it, otherwise.

I had to chew the damn things up and damn, were they nasty, but swallowing them whole just wasn’t an option. Swallowing felt like I was chugging down chopped-up razor blades. It would be better in a few days, I knew. Sadly, from experience. Until then, well, things were just going to suck while my body dealt with the damage. That’s all there was to it.

Once I’d dosed myself back up, I slid back out of the bathroom and found Damon standing just outside the doorway.

Those gray eyes dropped to linger on my throat. I turned away.

“I’m calling it a day,” I told him.

“About time.”

It had been five hours since we’d left the rec club. The contrite Damon from outside the club had disappeared, and his asshole side had returned, leaving me to deal with it all afternoon. I’d been able to think more clearly when he was quiet, but I was on more even ground when he was being an asshole. Didn’t know which was the better option yet.

“I’m starving,” he said, trailing after me and watching as I slid my sword into the sheath slung around my hips. “Wherever we go to eat, are they going to let you take that in?”

In the middle of slinging my bag onto my shoulder, I paused. “We?” Then I shook my head. “Sorry. You’re on your own.”

I headed to the door.

A long arm barred my way.

“You seem to forget, kitten…the job and me, we’re a package deal.” He dipped his head and whispered against my hair, “You’re stuck with me, around the clock, until we find the boy.”

No.
Hell. No
.

Clenching my jaw, I backed away from him. “No. I have to tolerate you at my back during the day, that’s fine. But I’m not putting up with you around the clock.” Each word was like forcing glass out, but there was no way I was doing this.

Damon shrugged. “You don’t have a choice. If you leave without me, I’ll just follow, and I warn you, I’ll be mad enough to do something nasty to that car of yours. If you try to lock me out of the house, I’ll bust the door down.”

While rage sounded an alarm in my ears, I flexed my hand. I didn’t need this job that badly. Did I? Shit. I needed this like I needed a damned hole in the head. “I’ll call the cops. Tell them you’re hassling me,” I said. “What then?”

“You can’t.” He winked at me.

The asshole
winked
at me.

“You see, you accepted the money. Remember that part where that’s pretty much just like signing a contract? You agreed to the terms…including the part where I’m a package deal. You call the cops, I’ll just explain that I was concerned for your safety and I was doing what I had to do to make sure you stayed under my direct supervision. Face it, kitten. You’re stuck with me.”

“Cyanide sounds so very appealing right now.”

“You can’t poison me with cyanide.” He shrugged. “Would take a tankload.”

“Not for you. For me. Probably the easiest way out of this mess.”

If he thought I was going to actually sit down in a fucking restaurant with him, he was out of his mind. As long as I was driving, he’d get what I damned well felt like feeding him. And it turned out to be Arby’s.

I sat in the drive-thru while he glared at me. “I’m fucking hungry,” he snarled. “You did fast food earlier and you didn’t eat a damn thing. We need a real meal.”

The Motrin had actually helped this time. I could speak a little easier.

“You want to eat, you get it here. I’m tired and I want to go home,” I said, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

“I need real food.”

“Then you’re going to have to figure out some other way to get it. This is the only place I’m stopping.”

“And if I decide to haul you elsewhere?”

“Try it.” I smiled. “Please, try it. The only way you’ll get me into a restaurant with you is if you drag me in there kicking and screaming.”

I cracked one eye to look over at him. “I’m pretty sure your beloved Alpha frowns on that.”

I’d heard a couple of her cats had gotten a little tanked a year ago. Shifters couldn’t get drunk–they just burned through the alcohol. But they get high. The drugs had to be made specifically for their bloodline; do it right, though and it could work. These two had gotten very, very wasted.

It wasn’t the drugs that had been the problem. They’d behaved…badly.

Shifters didn’t like it when other shifters misbehaved in public. They could go as crazy as they wanted on their own turf—it didn’t matter if they tore each other to ribbons for
looking
at each other wrong, but in public? Even an argument wasn’t nice. These two hadn’t argued—they’d tried to get naked and horizontal.

Somehow, I didn’t think Damon wanted to drag me into a restaurant kicking and screaming.

“Fine,” he growled.

It was a low, angry sound that filled the entire car. If I hadn’t been so pleased about finally getting the better of him, I might have been a little scared. Okay, so what if my heart slammed up into my abused throat and I could all but taste the panic crashing through my veins?

I’d won something. So what if it was a piddly little pissing contest. It was something.

“Ma’am…I need your order…” a voice said uncertainly as several people behind us started to lay on their horns.

I said, “Diet Coke.”

Then I looked pointed at Damon. He glared at me. “You need to eat.”

I groaned and banged my head against the seat’s headrest again.

Snarling filled the car and then he finally growled out an order. One that would have probably fed about four humans. I wasn’t surprised. Shifters ate a lot. Earlier at Burger King, I’d watched as he’d wolfed down three Whoppers.

Even when my throat didn’t feel like it had been battered into bits, I couldn’t eat a quarter of what he did. And I’m not one of those wilting females who didn’t like to eat. I was actually pretty damned hungry, but there was nothing here I could eat and I wasn’t going to torture myself by trying.

Ten minutes later, we were pulling out of the driveway. He tore into the food and I sipped at my drink, wincing at the sting of it. Home. Maybe a drink laced with whiskey. That would feel good. Then bed.

I’d hide out in my bedroom with my files, maybe a book in case I couldn’t concentrate—

A foil-wrapped sandwich got dumped in my lap. “You need to eat.”

I lowered my drink to the cupholder. A red light was coming up. After I’d stopped, I unwrapped the gooey mess and dropped the foil onto the console. Then, once I’d taken off, I threw the sandwich out the window.

“Hey!”

I smiled. “Not interested in eating that, thanks.”

Yes. I needed to eat, but anything I ate right now would
hurt
and I wasn’t about to let this son-of-a-bitch see that.

“Are you always this immature?”

I shrugged and licked some of the cheddar cheese of my fingers. “Depends on the company. When I’m around abusive, arrogant assholes, I tend to get very immature.” The pain in my throat was going to be an issue for a few days. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t deal with, I knew, but I also couldn’t keep avoiding eating for the next twenty-four or forty-eight hours, however long it took my body to deal with the swelling.

So I could either suffer and starve for the next couple of days…or I could hit up a friend. It seemed silly to suffer and starve when I had a friend who could do something about the pain.

Decision made, I headed out of town.

I hadn’t seen Colleen in a few months, but I figured she wouldn’t mind if I swung by this late in the evening.

“Where are you going?”

Drumming my nails on the steering wheel, I said, “You know…I’d really planned on being able to enjoy the silence tonight. After the shit day I’ve had, I’d really, really needed a quiet night.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly enjoying your company, either.”

My friend was in her garden.

Colleen spent a lot of evenings there, and even more nights, especially since Mandy’s death.

Once upon a time, she’d tried to pretend to live a nice, mortal life, but after her daughter had passed away, Colleen Antrim had given up that pretense. Mortal medicine hadn’t saved her kid. Witchery wouldn’t have saved the girl, either, but at least witchery wouldn’t have made the suffering worse.

Mortal medicine had.

The poor girl had lost so much weight, her hair, her strength…everything. All because they kept holding out hope.

In the end, leukemia had gotten her anyway.

Colleen didn’t bother coming out to greet me and I wasn’t surprised.

I’d tried to convince the asshole bodyguard to wait in the car, but he didn’t. He was polishing up the fourth order of fries and standing three feet away as I lowered myself to sit in the dirt next to Colleen.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said absently, stripping away the dead leaves from a plant I couldn’t name. I knew my way around herbs and such, but Colleen liked the really exotic ones. I thought maybe this one was some sort of poppy. I couldn’t be sure, but the leaves looked right.

“Hi, Leenie.”

She frowned at the sound of my voice. I reached over at touched her hand, focusing hard. Witches were as different from one to another as shifters were. Different abilities, different gifts. Colleen had a gift for healing and empathy—it had made it that much harder on her when she hadn’t been able to heal her daughter. She caught the intensity of my thoughts, though, thank God, and didn’t speak out loud.

What is wrong with your throat, Kitasa
?

Her question came more in images and feelings than actual words, but I picked it up well enough.

Don’t ask right now. But can you help
?

She went to reach up and I caught her wrist, shaking my head.

Sighing, she just stared into my eyes.
There is a lot of damage. A lot of swelling. The bruising is just the beginning. I’m surprised you can talk. How is your breathing
?

I shrugged.
Hurts to swallow. Hurts to talk. Haven’t eaten a damn thing and it’s making me cranky
.

A husky laugh escaped her. “Imagine that. Come along.”

As we walked by Damon, she gave him an ugly look.

He snarled at her only to have the sound trapped in his throat. Literally. I felt the prickle of Colleen’s magic and it made something inside me feel all warm and fuzzy.