Tempted by Fate (31 page)

“Your curves are delicious.”

“My curves are your fault.” Carrie shifted again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, running his hand along her leg. She’d been having backaches lately. Not that she’d admit as much to him, but he could tell from the way she moved. She claimed he was being overprotective. She hadn’t even seen protective yet. If it were up to him, he’d keep her cocooned in bed 24/7.

“I’m great. Really.” She squeezed his hand. “Do you think Rhys will be able to track down this mystery guy?”

“If anyone could, it’d be Rhys.” Rhys had connections that stretched even into the underworld.

“I wonder what Willow’s story is, and how she’s mixed up with this guy.”

Max had a suspicion, but he wasn’t ready to voice it—only because he didn’t want his wife getting involved doing any of her research.

“Maybe we should have called before barging in on them,” Carrie said as they pulled into Rhys’s long driveway.

“Because they always call before they barge in on us?” Max asked with a lift of his brow.

She laughed as she started to scoot out of the car. “You know you love them coming over all the time.”

Not like he’d ever admit that, even if it were true. He went around the car to help his wife to standing and led her to the front door.

Brian, Rhys’s majordomo, answered the door. He nodded at Max but greeted Carrie with a huge grin and a careful hug. “Hey, kid. You eating croissants every morning? You’re a little padded around the middle.”

She punched him playfully on his massive arm. “Not hardly. But if you’ve got any, I wouldn’t turn one down.”

“You got it.” He faced Max. “Assuming you’re here to see the boss? They’re in the workout room. You know the way.”

“As if we could miss it,” Max mumbled as he escorted Carrie down the hall. “His workout room is twice the size of mine. He’s compensating.”

“Play nice.”

“Compensating for his youth and growing up an orphan.” Max smiled slyly. “What did you think I meant?”

She shook her head. “You know what you meant.”

As they arrived in the doorway of the workout studio, they heard a grunt and a thud. Max paused in the
entrance, holding Carrie behind him to check the scene before letting her in. Rhys was probably just working out, but it was better to play it safe.

Sure enough, on the blue matted area in the middle of the room, there were two people. Rhys lay flat on his back, arms splayed like he was recently thrown. Above him stood Gabrielle, looking pleased with herself. Rhys’s arms swung in, grabbing her ankle and sweeping her onto the floor with an
oof.
Before she recovered, he rolled on top of her and pinned her down, wrists by her ears.

“Give up, love?” he asked, his British accent less crisp and more heated than usual.

“Never.”

“You sure?” He lowered his head and nuzzled her neck.

Arching her back, Gabrielle made a happy noise. Then she raised her arms, crossed her wrists, and broke his grip. Straightening his leg, she flipped them over so she was dominant.

She smiled down at him. “How do you feel, now that the tables are turned?”

“Actually, I feel good.” He tangled his hand in her hair and brought her mouth down to his.

Max felt a finger poke in his side, and he looked at his wife.

Her eyes lit bright as she nodded at the spectacle in the workout room. “If you taught me kung fu, we could have foreplay like that, too.”

“Our foreplay is fine the way it is.”

“Yeah.” She watched the other couple with avid interest. “But that looks fun, too.”

“Don’t make me blindfold you.”

“Promises, promises.” Carrie gave Max a sultry look that shot directly to his cock. Then she walked straight into the room. “Break it up, guys. We need your help.”

“Go away,” Gabrielle said, lifting her head for just a second before launching into another lip-lock.

“This is serious. It’s about the other Guardian.”

That got their attention. Still, they broke off their kiss reluctantly.

Gabrielle hopped to her feet with an unconcealed scowl at him. “This better be good.”

“Rick Ramirez brought the Guardian of the Book of Wood to our loft this afternoon.” He arched an eyebrow. “Is that good enough?”

Pursing her lips, Gabrielle nodded slowly. “I’d say that has some merit.”

Rhys stroked the scar bisecting the corner of his mouth. “Ramirez, of course, didn’t know who she was, correct?”

Carrie nodded her head. “He didn’t, but he knows something strange is going on. He said as much, the last time he and I got together.”

Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. “Why would the other Guardian want to hang with Ramirez?”

“Maybe because he’s hot,” Carrie replied with more emphasis than Max liked. She must have realized it, though, because she patted his chest reassuringly.

Max pressed her hand to his heart. “Ramirez and this Willow—”

Gabrielle chuckled.

They all looked at her.

“
Willow?
Guardian of the Book of Wood?” She chuckled some more. “I’m so happy my mom named me
something decent, even if it’s girly. Can you see me as a
Terra?
”

Max frowned. “Do you want to hear what they wanted or not?”

“Go ahead,” she said graciously.

“They’re looking for a man wanted for questioning in several murders.”

“This sounds familiar,” Gabrielle muttered.

He held out the picture to Rhys. “I went through my network, but I came up empty-handed. I thought you might check some of the other avenues you have open to you.”

Rhys’s brow furrowed as he stared at the photo.

“What?” Gabrielle asked. “Do you know this guy?”

He didn’t answer, but Max knew him well enough to know his former best friend knew exactly who this guy was—and it wasn’t good. “Can you pull some information together for Ramirez?”

Rhys nodded and headed for the door. “And perhaps we can arrange a little chat with his Guardian. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

“She’s staying with him,” Carrie said to fill Rhys’s absence.

Gabrielle gasped. “No way.”

“Seriously.” Carrie grinned like an imp. “I think he likes her quite a lot. He was almost drooling over her. Of course she
did
have leather pants on. Any guy would drool over a woman in leather pants. But I think he
likes
her.”

“Yeah, but you’re also knocked up, and you know how they say pregnant women are totally insane because of their hormones.”

Carrie looked at Max. “Am I insane?”

“Less so than some people,” he assured her.

Gabrielle laughed. “That’s not saying much.”

As Gabrielle and Carrie chatted, he wandered over to the weapons mounted on the wall. He ignored the variety of knives and sticks, focusing on one sword in particular. The sword he’d forged for Rhys back at the monastery, where they learned how to be Guardians, when they were brothers in every way but blood. He ran a finger along the well-cared-for blade. The metal whispered in pleasure, and he heard the echo deep inside him.

“I have the information.”

Max turned around to find Rhys studying him, only several inches behind. It bothered the hell out of him that he hadn’t heard his approach. Max glanced at the women, still engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. Just as well. He had a bad feeling.

Rhys held out a portfolio. “I thought I recognized him. It’s been a long time, and I’d only met him briefly, but he’s who I thought. I opted out of dealing with him once, years ago.”

“That bad?” Max whispered so the women couldn’t hear as he took the folder.

“Worse,” Rhys replied, equally hushed. “Tell Ramirez to watch his back, because based on the information in that dossier, if the man wants Willow, she’s as good as his.”

Max opened the file and skimmed it, his bad feeling increasing with each word. For once, he couldn’t argue with Rhys.

E
dward cut into his rack of lamb, aware of the large presence standing over his shoulder. Anger inflated his chest, and his knife screeched on the plate.

He stopped, exhaled, and calmly took a bite of the meat. Perfection. Boulevard’s chef obviously took the same kind of thorough pride in his work as Edward did in his.

Too bad his employees didn’t understand the importance of quality work. All he asked was for them to bring him one lone woman. How was that difficult? He’d delivered her to them practically on a plate.

He savored another bite and took a sip of the Château Margaux. He set the glass down and cut another piece. “You had better have tracked her down.”

“I did.”

Ah, it was Frank behind him. Frank was marginally less lacking than the rest of his bodyguards. “Where is she?”

“She’s staying here.”

A piece of paper appeared in front of him. Edward took his time with another mouthful before he plucked the paper from Frank’s fingers. An address. He refolded it and slipped it inside his shirt’s pocket before taking up his fork and knife. “I take it that’s a residence.”

“Yes.”

“And who lives there?”

“Ricardo Ramirez.” Frank paused. “He’s a cop. In Homicide.”

The fork slipped out of his hand with a clatter. A Homicide policeman. A slow smile crossed his face as he waved his employee into the empty seat across from him. “Isn’t that interesting?”

Frank unbuttoned his suit coat as he sat down and took out an envelope from his inside pocket. “Not as interesting as what they’re doing together.”

Pictures. Excitement shivered through him as he held his hand out. That night at the club he’d caught a glimpse of her distinctive hair—the same as Lani’s—but he hadn’t seen her face. He hadn’t looked upon her in years. The last time one of his employees had managed to photograph her, she’d barely been a teenager.

He touched the cheap white paper of the standard envelope. Her pictures deserved something finer. Vellum. Handmade and fine. Should he open it now or wait? He ran a finger along the open flap. He couldn’t wait—he needed to see her face. Opening the envelope, he pulled out the first photo, a telephoto close-up. She took his breath away. High, royal cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. Full lips. The perfect melding of Lani and himself, made into something unique and exquisite. The only thing on her that belonged completely to Lani was her hair.

Her pale gray eyes, however, were all his. He stared into those eyes. Even flat on a piece of paper, they sparked with intelligence and cunning. He felt a thrill of pride and anticipation. He was going to enjoy making her bend to his will.

Edward flipped to the next picture. She sat on the kitchen counter, a dark-haired man in front of her. Not only a bitch like her mother, but a whore, too. He clenched his fist, wrinkling the picture. Edward knew without a doubt that this was the man coming between him and his daughter.

He scanned through the rest of the batch. The policeman was featured in most of them, in various states of undress. He studied one particularly provocative one of them staring at each other. Edward slipped the photos back into the envelope and set them next to his plate.

Clever of her to take up with a cop. But if she thought she was going to circumvent his plan, she didn’t give him enough credit. Nothing was going to keep him from claiming her powers.

Picking up his wineglass, he held it up to the light to inspect the deep ruby color. “Continue to watch her.”

“Yes, sir.” Frank pushed back from the table.

“And, Frank?”

“Sir?”

“I want the police officer out of the picture. Understand?”

His employee nodded. “Yes, sir.”