Magick Rising (37 page)

for you?”

He feigned innocence. “Not for me personally.” A glimmer entered his

wide-eyes. “At least not too often. It’s a wise man who understands the fine

line between performing a quality check on his merchandise and getting too

caught up in his work.”

She bristled. “Merchandise? You think they’re nothing more than

that?”

Worth ignored her, turning his attention to Jon. “Forget the women.

You’re the one I want to talk to. You’re quite special, aren’t you?”

Jon wasn’t moved by the flattery. “So I’ve been told.” He was sitting up

now, in a better position to take action if needed.

The man persisted. “Do you know how many males have your talents?”

Jon said nothing.

“I’ll tell you how many. A handful. If that. There’s only one born into

each tribe, and the number of tribes is decreasing with every generation.

From my research, the last time anybody even mentioned meeting a male

shifter was six years ago, and that turned out to be a false alarm.” He leaned

forward in conspiracy. “You’re a dying breed, buddy. Come to work for me.

I can give you anything, everything. Women, drugs, money, you’ll be the

king of your own tribe. A different, perfect woman every night.”

Words failed Jon, so he simply glared at the man.

Worth persisted. “What’ll it take?” He shifted his gaze to Serenity,

running it almost carelessly over her body. “You want her? I can give you a

dozen hers, all willing and all much more talented.”

Serenity slapped her ex’s cheek, the sound ricocheting across the room

like a gunshot.

“You beat me to it,” Jon said, rising from the couch. “Only I wouldn’t

have used an open palm.”

Worth rubbed the red mark that was starting to form. “Brother, I

understand. You’re mad because you took a beating meant for me. I can

understand that. In fact, I respect your anger. Let me pay you back. I can

make sure . . .”

His voice trailed off as Jon snatched the papers from the coffee table

and shoved them into Worth’s mid-section. “Sign the damn papers and get

out.”

Worth held out his empty hands. “But you don’t understand. I can

make you a king.”

Jon reached out and grabbed the man’s shirt, pulling him closer. “No,

you don’t understand. I don’t like what you do.” Jon dragged him closer

until they were almost nose-to-nose. “You’re nothing more than a pimp,

getting these women hooked to drugs and selling their services.”

David’s posture changed. But instead of becoming threatening, he

straightened and managed to look almost noble. “Thank you,” he said in a

quiet voice. He glanced at Serenity. “I wasn’t sure I could trust him.”

“Trust him?” Serenity sputtered. “What makes you think we trust
you
?”

“I don’t expect you to trust me. Not anymore. But I need to be able to

trust you.”

Serenity shot Jon a confused glance but took a brave step closer. “You

have exactly one minute to explain, David.”

Worth nodded. “I’m everything you said I am. When I started working

at the club, it seemed like a reasonable risk for a good payoff. But now things

are different.”

The harsh light in Serenity’s eyes didn’t waver. “You have fifty seconds

left.”

“You don’t have to believe I’ve changed. But what you do need to

believe is that I regret I didn’t do anything to prevent the death of someone

I cared about.”

She narrowed her gaze and crossed her arms in the obvious belief that

there was not a single person in the world he actually cared about. “Who?”

Jon stared at Worth, seeing the answer in the man’s eyes.

“Laila’s dead, isn’t she?”

DAVID NODDED. “YES. Last night. After those two assholes beat the

crap out of you, thinking you were me. Laila was killed only a couple of

minutes later.”

“By the same two?”

He shook his head. “By one of them. He’d had the hots for her and

thought you—that
I
was moving in on ‘his’ girl. After someone interrupted

his assault of . . . me, he took out his rage on her.”

Serenity watched Jon pale.

“She’s dead,” he said in a low voice. “Because of me.”

David stroked his chin, a gesture he often used until the accident.

Somehow, she knew it was a calculated gesture, as if David was trying to

remind her of the “old days.”

“Honestly? If seeing you and Laila in conversation drove him to do

this, then it really didn’t matter if he saw you or me. He was simply a ticking

bomb, and he picked this particular time to go kaboom.”

David’s sudden . . . kindness surprised her. Normally, if anything went

wrong, his first reaction was to place the blame on anybody else but himself.

His unexpected generosity, coupled with his familiar gesture, meant only

one thing.

He was playing her.

She narrowed her gaze. “You want something, David. What?”

His smile haunted her with its familiarity. “You know me too well,

don’t you, Sere?” David turned toward Jon, gesturing with two empty

palms. “Cards on the table, okay, pal?”

Jon nodded.

“There’s nothing I can do now to help Laila.” His sigh had all the

hallmarks of a stage direction. Precise and artificial. “She’s gone. But what I

can
do is try to get the guys who killed her, not to mention help the other

girls who are left.” He glanced at Jon. “With your help.”

Jon appeared unmoved by David’s plea. “My help? Why should I help

you?”

“Because working together, the two us can free the girls.”

“How?”

“We get the Glue.”

Serenity stepped forward, wary of any plan hatched by her ex-husband.

He’d always had a way of making harebrained ideas sound plausible at first.

“You have the Glue already.”

David shook his head. “No, I don’t. That’s the problem. I have limited

access to the finished drug, plus I don’t know how to make it. I’m just as

dependent on my boss to furnish it to me for the girls.”

Serenity felt the muscles in her stomach tighten. “David, only
you
would

suggest that the drug dealer is just as much a victim as those people he gets

addicted to drugs.”

David looked more surprised than angry at being challenged. “That’s

not what I meant, Sere. The problem is I don’t know how to make the Glue.

But if I did, I’d give the stuff to the girls—whatever it took so they wouldn’t

have to work as slaves for the club anymore.”

Jon crossed his arms. “No, they’d simply have to work for you.”

David released an exasperated sigh. “Not anymore. I want out.

Completely. Hell, I’ll give you the formula if you want. You can use it, give it

away, mass-produce it, whatever. Just help me save the girls.”

“Such nobility, David.” Serenity walked over to the mantle of the

fireplace, where she’d kept the only other picture of him that she hadn’t torn

up or thrown away. It’d been a candid snapshot, taken on their honeymoon

to Florida, a sunny time when he’d still been her David, full of love, warmth,

and understanding.

“C’mon,” she said, picking up the photo. “Even . . . before, you didn’t

have a noble streak that wide.”

He colored slightly. “It’s not nobility. It’s self-protection. The club is

about to be bought up by an investment group that I refuse to work with.

These new guys won’t respect the relationship we have with the girls or

understand the high burn-out rate for shapeshifters. If you don’t use them,

then rest them, you’ll kill out the entire community of shifters in a matter of

months.” He turned to Jon. “You’d be the last of your kind. Maybe in the

whole world.”

When Jon glanced at her for confirmation, she shook her head. “I

doubt he’s telling the truth.”

Jon turned his searing gaze back toward David and stared for almost a

full minute before drawing a deep breath. “But there’s a chance he is.” He

lifted an eyebrow. “A remote one, but a chance, nonetheless.”

Serenity saw the decision in his eyes as easily as if he’d spoken it aloud.

Just as long as he knew they couldn’t trust David. She nodded, and together

they faced David.

“So what do we do?”

IT WASN’T QUITE midnight when they drove into the alley behind the

club. Worth coasted to a stop in a shadowy spot sandwiched between pools

from light from two street lamps. For some reason, the lone security light by

the club’s back door wasn’t working. Jon glanced down and saw a telltale

pile of glass shards beneath the light pole.

He nodded toward the broken glass. “Your work?”

“I came by earlier.” Worth turned around to face them from the

driver’s seat. “You two ready?”

Jon nodded.

The man held out a small pill bottle and shook it slightly. “Take it. It’ll

make the changes smoother and stick longer.”

Jon studiously ignored the white tablet rolling around the bottom of the

bottle. “I told you. I don’t need it.”

Worth shrugged. “Okay, so don’t take it now. But keep it for a backup,

in case something goes wrong and you need some extra juice. Trust

me—you won’t get addicted, and afterwards, I can help you come down a

lot easier than before.”

Jon studied the pill bottle. Despite his lack of trust in David Worth, the

man’s logic was somewhat persuasive. After all, Jon was playing a pivotal

role in this gambit, going in alone with no communication, no weapons. If

he needed an edge, if he needed to change faster, longer, the Glue might be

the easiest, if not the only answer. He reached out, only to feel Serenity’s

fingers curling around his wrist.

“Please. Don’t.”

Power poured through her touch, spreading up his arm in waves. If he

had the luxury of time, he would have savored the sensation and whatever

feeling it might develop into. His imagination provided several worthy

avenues of possibility, each becoming more personal and more pleasurable

than the one before. Their gazes locked, hers sliding from concern into

compassion and maybe something more.

He pulled free from her touch, expecting an instant sense of loss from

the broken contact. But something continued to connect them. It was only

when she turned away that the sensations of closeness and desire faded

away. Jon looked up and realized Worth had been observing them the entire

time.

“You two wanna get a hotel room?”

Serenity leveled her ex-husband with a glacial stare. “Shut up, David.”

When Worth turned back in his seat, she covered a small smile of

triumph with her hand. That’s when Jon realized that whoever she had been

before, she had survived it and had built a new, better life for herself.

His admiration of her strength grew even more when she turned to him

and said in a low voice, “Then why don’t we take this pill to your friend?

That way you don’t have to go through all this.”

Before he could answer, Worth released an exasperated sigh. “I’m not

deaf, Sere. Or stupid. I’ve tried to get the stuff analyzed, but they say it’s too

complex. Takes some sort of fancy equipment that nobody around here has.

We have to get the formula. And I know Iceman has a copy of it in his safe.”

As an expert in the study of facial anatomy, Jon frequently uncovered

the truth by observing expressions alone. No matter whatever other facts

Worth was sidestepping, he
was
telling the truth about the Glue.

Worth sighed again. “Okay. Let’s go over it again. The guard on the

first floor . . .”

Jon closed his eyes and repeated what he’d been instructed. “That’s

Stan. Has a scar between his eyes. Always listening to sports radio. I’m

supposed to ask him who’s winning. Guard on the second floor is Winston,

a smart ass but bright. If he asks me anything, I tell him I don’t have time to

mess around, that the boss wants to know who screwed with the kegs.

That’ll shut him up since he’s always stealing beer.”

“Good. And the boss’s office?” Worth prompted.

“Third floor. No guard on that level. Fourth door on the right. Cypher

lock on the door. Code is 4-7-9-0-8.”

The man nodded. “Good. Give me five minutes to get around front

and through the door, and then I’ll draw the heat off of you.” He offered his

hand. “Go for it.”

Jon reached out and grabbed Worth’s wrist, feeling the man’s essence

flow toward him, and his own skin and muscles responding to the challenge

of a new form. He released the filters that protected him from inadvertent

contact and allowed, even welcomed the change, something he seldom did.

It was both a pleasure and a pain to change forms, but this time, he ignored

the more pleasurable aspects of the transition in order to maintain the

barriers preventing Worth’s personality from tagging along.

As the pain leveled off and the afterglow kicked in, he leaned back and

allowed himself a moment to savor the lingering sensations.

“Let’s get going,” Worth commanded.

Jon tested his voice, repeating, “Let’s get going.”