Rebel's Desire (Iron Portal Paranormal Romance Series) (Iron Portal Series Book 4)

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Tormented by a savage past and shattered by a bitter betrayal, Iron Guild warrior Toryn Flynn trusts no one and cares about nothing except the battle against their enemies. His target: a mobster who finances deadly missions into Cascadia.

Kicked out of the house by her puritanical father, Keely Weber and her sister run a bookstore and fortune-telling business in an underground district in New Seattle—until a powerful man who controls the area kidnaps Keely’s sister to sell her into the Talent sex-trade.

When a beautiful woman literally falls into his arms, Toryn realizes she holds the key to his success. Keely will do anything to rescue her sister…including taking risks with a dangerously sexy man who pushes all her buttons.

From the gritty streets of the city’s underbelly to a sexual-fantasy-themed island, passions ignite. But with evil surrounding them and time running out, Toryn must decide whether to sacrifice the woman he’s falling for or dare to trust his heart again.

I
f Keely Weber
hadn’t been in such a hurry to get back to the shop, she would’ve noticed the crowd gathered on the corner of First and Yesler and gone a different way.

In fact, she didn’t figure out it was an organized group and not just a bunch of people rushing home from work on a Friday afternoon until she was smack-dab in the middle and being jostled from side to side.

She hated being buffeted around like this but refrained from doing anything other than hunching her shoulders and tucking her hands deeper into the front pocket of her hoodie. She couldn’t be late with the money. Her sister would be waiting for her, and Becca wasn’t exactly patient.

“’Scuse me,” she mumbled, pulling out her earbuds.

That’s when she heard the chanting.

“Abominations.”

Clap clap clap.

“Satan’s spawn.”

Clap clap clap.

“Stop the lies.”

Her stomach twisted into knots, and a familiar revulsion rushed through her.

Protesters. She should’ve known. After all, this was the edge of the Circus District, a seedy part of New Seattle that was home to individuals with special ability Talents—either real or faked.

Davin Reaux, a powerful but shady businessman with high-up ties in the government, made sure the army turned a blind eye to this area of the city near the shipyards. He wasn’t always successful—there were still the occasional raids where the army came in and rounded up Talents they thought they could use in the war against Cascadia, a world hidden beyond secret portals whose barbarian people came over here to wreak havoc. They were responsible for random bombings and the deaths of innocent people.

But, for the most part, the army left the Circus District alone. Fueled, Keely was sure, by the hush money that small businesses like hers and Becca’s paid to Mr. Reaux each and every month.

Money that would be late if she didn’t make it back to the shop soon.

Keely spun around, looking for a way out of the crowd, but dozens of bodies pressed in around her. If anyone recognized her…

At least it had been drizzling lightly when she left the bank, so her hoodie was up, her long auburn hair covered.

“Aberration.”

“Mistake.”

“You’re not welcome here.”

The hateful words gnawed at her.

At one time, she’d been just like these people. Clutching her father’s hand, she’d held signs and shouted words. Words she didn’t fully understand.

Before his show became one of the most-watched channels on the Internet.

Before her Talent and Becca’s had manifested and they were kicked out of the house.

A man who preached that Talents were possessed by demons couldn’t exactly have two of them living under his roof, now could he? It wasn’t good for business.

She hated that people hated her for something she couldn’t change. Something she didn’t ask for. It was one thing if someone judged her because of her tattoos and piercings. Those were choices she’d consciously made. Most of them, that is. But being born a Talent? Yeah, right. As if she’d ever in a million years choose to be a freak.

Careful not to disturb the bandage covering her new tattoo, she shoved her hands up the opposite sleeves of her sweatshirt and dug her fingernails into her skin. She imagined the ten half-moon indentations she was making and welcomed the pain. It gave her clarity. Helped her focus.

Spotting a gap in the crowd, she turned to the side and shouldered her way through the people.

There. She was on the open sidewalk again. She breathed a sigh of relief.

If she hurried, she could make it back to the shop with a few minutes to spare. To say she was glad she hadn’t stopped at the street vendor selling coconut cream pie bites was an understatement. Those little desserts were a major weakness of hers, and the line had been short. But if she had stopped, she’d be running even later than she already was. Plus, Becca would’ve smelled the toasted coconut on her breath and flipped out that Keely hadn’t come straight back to the shop with all this money in her pocket. Caving to temptation seriously wasn’t worth her sister’s wrath.

A hand clamped around her upper arm, the one with the new tattoo, and jerked her around.

She hissed in pain. “Hey, let g—”

Someone yanked down her hoodie, and a few people gasped. Glancing around the group, she cursed under her breath at her colossal bad luck.

A sandy-haired guy in a T-shirt that said “Don’t Be Fooled” stood in front of her, staring her up and down with no attempt to disguise the disgust on his face. “Keely Weber. I thought that was you.”

“Hey, Cole.” It was hard to believe that at one time back in high school, she’d actually had a crush on him, thought he was hot. Funny how when someone’s a jerk, they’re suddenly as ugly on the outside as they are on the inside. “You’re looking…as righteous as ever.”

Satisfaction flared momentarily in his eyes and the word
thanks
began to form on his lips before he realized she hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

Psych!

“What happened to you?” a young woman asked. She was rocking a baby in her arms, but the movement looked more like a nervous tic than infant-soothing. “You used to be so…so normal.”

Keely shrugged. “What can I say, Robin? Getting kicked out of the house and shunned by family and friends tends to change a person.”

Cole muttered something under his breath to the guy next to him who laughed. Unlike the seven or eight people in the crowd she recognized, he didn’t look familiar.

“What was that, Cole?” she asked sweetly. “Speak up.”

The group seemed to be closing in around her. Keely really should stop goading them, but she couldn’t help herself. It was like poking a hornets’ nest with a stick.

Cole looked her straight in the eye. “I said,
and not for the better.
”

She balled her hands into tight fists, wanting nothing more than to punch him right in the mouth. Then she’d donkey-kick the pimply guy behind her, roundhouse-kick the guy to her left who laughed like a horse, and elbow the skinny chick to her right who kept nodding. And if Robin put her baby down, she’d donkey-kick her, too.

A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

She couldn’t believe she used to be friends with some of these people.

Somebody shoved her from behind, sending her stumbling in Cole’s direction, but he stepped aside with the grace of a prizefighter. She fell to her knees, catching herself at the last minute with her hands, but as she did so, the bank envelope flipped out of her sweatshirt pocket and skidded along the ground.

She dove for it, but she wasn’t fast enough.

Cole scooped it up, peered inside and whistled. He elbowed the guy next to him. “Yo, check it out.”

“Whoa,” his friend said. “I thought everyone paid in credits now. Who even takes real money anymore?”

She rose to her feet. This couldn’t be happening. Please let this be a bad dream. “Give that to me. It doesn’t belong to you.”

“What is this?” Cole taunted, holding it just out of reach. “Blood money?”

If she weren’t so freaked out, she would’ve laughed. This suburban boy living in a gated community with private security and a monthly allowance from daddy had no clue what that even meant. He’d probably heard it in a movie and thought it sounded edgy.

“Cole, please. I need that.”

“What’s it for?”

None of your damn business.

She ground her teeth together, trying to hold her patience in check. “It’s to pay a bill. A very important one.”

As if on cue, the old clock in Pioneer Square began to chime. It was the top of the hour. Time had officially run out.

Panic surged through her like a drug. She stood on her tiptoes to see if she could spot the shiny black limousine heading toward the shop, but there were too many people crowding around her.

What would Mr. Reaux do if the payment was late? She’d heard stories about broken arms and hostage-taking. Everyone in the District had.

“A bill, huh?” Cole grinned. He wasn’t about to hand it over.

She lunged at the envelope and actually touched it, but Cole jerked it out of the way and the bills went flying.

“Noooo!”

The crowd surged forward, arms and hands scrabbling in the air.

Although she managed to snatch a few bills from people, it wasn’t nearly all of it, and the crowd quickly dispersed, leaving her on her hands and knees in the middle of the sidewalk.

Cole tossed a smile over his shoulder as he strolled away. “Thanks for your generous donation to the cause. Loser.”

“Screw you!” Keely shouted.

She pushed herself up, her hands and knees shaking. How had she lost all that money? What was she going to do now? Becca was going to kill her. Seriously kill her. That was more than a week’s income for the shop.

She’d never met Mr. Reaux before. He always waited out in the car when one of his men came inside to collect. But she was late. Would his car still be idling at the curb out front or would he come back later? She thought again about what would happen if he didn’t get his money and hoped to God those rumors weren’t true. Could they skip this month and pay twice as much next month?

When Keely got back to Sisters Books and Fortunes, she had her answer.

The door was unlocked, and Becca was gone.

T
oryn Flynn ran
a cloth over the blade of his knife and wished he were cleaning off the blood of his enemies.

The night was a bust—which seemed to come as a complete surprise to everyone. Everyone, that is, except him. Maybe the other Iron Guild warriors didn’t have a problem relying on intel from someone who’d betrayed them in the past, but he sure as hell did.

The sky to the east, above the Cascade Mountains where the portal he’d come through was located, was inky black. Sunrise was still a long way off. Whoever said time stands still for no man had clearly never been on a stakeout.

“Damn,” Sean said, shaking his head as if he believed his own bullshit. “I thought for sure he would show tonight.”

Aye, I’ll bet you did.

Their target, Davin Reaux, was the head of a powerful organized crime ring and responsible for financing deadly raids into Cascadia. Unless they took the bloke out, Cascadians would continue to be in danger. Just recently, a raid that
Sean
had taken part in had killed several innocent Cascadians and shaken their entire region.

“I’m sure he’ll show up.” Vince, the newest member of the Iron Guild, kept his binoculars trained on the road below them.

Toryn made a sound of disgust, sheathed the knife and strode to another area of the parking garage roof. Sean was a Tracker-Talent—if anyone should know how to find the bastard, he should. So the fact that he couldn’t was just another red flag.

Until recently, Vince and Sean had been imprisoned together by the Pacifican army. For ten years, Vince refused to divulge the location of a secret portal—a decision that saved many innocent Cascadian lives, branded him a hero, and secured him a place on their elite team of warriors.

But Sean? At the first chance he got, he’d helped the enemy on their mission into Cascadia.

Toryn didn’t trust him. Not by a long shot.

He leaned against the cement barrier and looked out over the city. Street noises wafted up the six stories. The forlorn sound of a boat horn echoed from somewhere out on the dark bay. To the north, the Old Space Needle lit up the night. Although still the city’s iconic symbol, it had been damaged by a massive earthquake many years ago and was no longer safe inside.

Footsteps shuffled behind him, then a bottle of Irish whiskey was thrust in front of him.

“Here.” It was his best friend, Konal. “Need some liquid patience?”

“Patience isn’t my problem.” Toryn grabbed the bottle and knocked back a huge swig. The alcohol burned a welcome path down his throat.

“Says the guy who never relaxes.” Konal jerked his chin at the street below. “Maybe you need to pay a visit to one of the shops for a massage
and
a happy ending.”

“The thing I don’t understand is why everyone’s so willing to trust what the Professor says,” Toryn said, using Sean’s prison nickname. As far as he was concerned, betrayal was the ultimate trust-killer.

“Because without his intel,” Konal replied, “we wouldn’t have known who funded the last raid into Cascadia.”

“Don’t you find it a wee bit convenient that we got here only to find that the club employs a couple of Psychic-Talent bouncers?” Toryn growled. “So we’re forced to wait for the bloke and hope that he shows up sometime in the next millennia.”

Their original plan had been to wait inside Aphrodistic, a strip club that Reaux owned. Asher and Konal were going to scope out the place first and the rest of them would have followed a few minutes later. But when the first two warriors got to the front of the line, everything went south. One of the thug bouncers turned out to be a Psychic-Talent and came after them, wielding a knife and a really bad attitude.

Depending on how much the Talent had been able to sense, Reaux could very well know that warriors from Cascadia were after him, and he was probably, at this very moment, making arrangements to protect himself even further.

How bloody convenient was that?

Konal grabbed the bottle from Toryn, took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s not to love about an excuse to drink with the lads?”

The
lads
? So Konal trusted the Professor, too. He shoved past his friend.

“Where are you going?”

“I need some air.”

When would these guys realize that you couldn’t blindly put your faith in someone who wanted something in return? In the Professor’s case, his motives were clear. He wanted out of the jail pit, so he was willing to say and do anything to accomplish that. But with some people, their agendas weren’t so obvious. Not until you risked everything only to be betrayed in return.

Toryn had just made it to street level when an entourage of black Towncars sped past, heading in the direction of the club.

Could it be Reaux?