Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (98 page)

He rose and headed to the door, not bothering to cover himself up. It was just his assistant; she’d seen him like this before. “This better be important.”

“Oh, it is,” Iris said, breezing into the room with an efficient, no-nonsense clip to her step. Her chin-length silvery hair was pulled neatly off her face with a thin black headband. She glanced over at the two naked females near the window and the two passed out on the bed. One of them was finally stirring. “I wouldn't have bothered you if it wasn't important.”

“What is it then?” He grabbed a piece of bacon from a platter on the table.

“I just got off the phone with Freddy Ubinov.”

Again? The Russian billionaire had called him every day this week. “Did he not get the catalog? What did he think of the girls?”

“No, he got the catalog,” Iris replied, tapping a stylus on the edge of her tablet. “That’s not the problem. Seems he's looking for a certain kind of girl and didn't see her listed.”

Davin let out an exasperated sigh. “What the hell kind of girl is he looking for? We've got almost a dozen for him to choose from. All beautiful and all have a Talent.”

He’d specifically chosen the girls not just for their looks, but also for their particular Talents that could be used to heighten the sexual pleasure of their partners. He wasn’t the only one who ran a Talent sex trade club, but he was one of the best. No one put their girls through as much rigorous training as he did. And it paid off. His auctions attracted some of the biggest clients, and he made a helluva lot of money doing it.

He glanced at the beautiful sword mounted above the mantel, its jewel-encrusted hilt glinting in the light. A precious antiquity acquired during a recent raid he’d financed into Cascadia. One—no, two men had died bringing the thing back through the portal. There was a big market for Cascadian treasures, and at auction this sword would likely fetch as much, if not more, than one of these girls.

“He's looking for a female with a very specific look.” Pushing up her glasses, she consulted her tablet. “A redhead with big breasts.”

“Redhead? Did he not see Rita?”

“Too skinny. Not edgy enough. Said if that’s all we have, he and his boys aren’t coming.”

“Fuck.” He strode to the window. If Freddy didn’t come, it would be disastrous. They were some of the biggest whales on the guest list. If anyone else caught wind of it, they could change their minds, too.

Davin grabbed the glass of champagne and drained it. “A redhead with a Talent
and
huge tits? We don't have anyone like that.”

A blonde curled up on the sofa caught his attention. He’d forgotten she was there. Wasn’t she telling him something before about some redhead she knew?
A Talent
?

With his open robe streaming behind him like a cape, he strode over to her and patted her on the cheek. “Hey, Betty, wake up.”

The girl mumbled something and wrapped her blanket tightly around her.

“I’m talking to you.” He grabbed the edge of the blanket and jerked, and the naked girl spilled onto the floor with a clunk.

“Sir, careful,” Iris said. “She’s one of our most valuable girls. With her looks and her unusual Talent, we’re getting all sorts of interest. She’s going to fetch a very high price.”

“She’s a goddamn junkie is what she is,” he bit out, pinching the bridge of his nose. No one understood how hard his job was—finding the girls, making sure they were ready. He didn’t have a lot of time to make miracles happen. The VIP event was right around the corner.

He turned back to the blonde, who had pushed herself to a sitting position and was rubbing her head.

“Betty,” he said softly.

The girl looked at him, blinking a few times before she responded. “It’s Becca.”

Whatever. He leaned over and stroked her messy hair. “Tell me more about this sister of yours.”

Take over for me
.

Keely's simple statement replayed in Toryn’s head as he ran up the steep stairs of the hillclimb, sweat dripping in his eyes. She’d chosen to give him control last night, but he wondered at its broader meaning.

He’d woken early, thinking he would slip out for a run while Keely slept, but she was already awake. She’d nuzzled in close, her breasts pressed against his chest, which had been all the encouragement he’d needed. He’d pushed her onto her back, and they made love without a word, the only sounds were the rustle of the sheets and the soft moans she made when she came.

It had been incredible to wake up next to that beautiful redhead, her heart beating inches away from his. And after they made love, she’d molded her soft curves to his hard edges again. He’d assumed she would fall back asleep, but she got up, too, and asked him to drop her off down at the rowing club. Then they could come back and have breakfast.

He took the stairs two at a time, arms and legs pumping until he reached the top where he turned around and came back down. When he called Sean last night and told him he was staying here, the man hadn’t asked any questions, which Toryn appreciated. He hated having anyone up in his business. Sean left the Jeep near the shop and was going to have one of the other warriors pick him up.

Over and over Toryn ran the stairs, his mind working as hard as his body. He thought about the hint of sadness in Keely’s eyes and how he ached to chase the shadows away.

Not only was she strong, compassionate and smart, but her body, with its luscious curves, seemed so finely tuned to his. Every look from her, every touch, made him want to bury himself inside her again. He was getting aroused right now just thinking about it, which wasn’t good when all he was wearing was a pair of thin gym shorts.

Take over for me
, she’d said.

He cursed under his breath.

Would she still have said that if she knew who he really was? A barbarian soldier from the other side of a portal?

Guilt sliced through him like a blade of hand-forged Balkirk steel at this deception of his. If she knew the truth, would she still feel the same way about him? Would she still have said that? Or would she cast him out, angry to have shared her bed with a man she thought was a terrorist?

Or worse still—would she be afraid of him?

Hell. If he were being honest with himself, was he even capable of trusting another human being with his heart? He’d been too naive once, trusting someone who broke his heart, so he’d vowed never to let that happen again.

When he was finished, he headed back to the rowing club located on a narrow channel of water near the Fremont Bridge. The bridge wasn’t used for cars any longer—it had been too badly damaged in the earthquake years ago—but evidently the city engineers thought it was safe enough for the rowing club and some industrial buildings.

He arrived in time to see Keely carrying the scull in from the water, her long red hair blowing in the wind from the lake.

“How was your workout?” he asked, helping her lift the lightweight boat onto the rack.

Her cheeks were rosy from the cool morning air. “It was good. I haven’t felt like coming down here for a long time. My parents keep their boat moored on the other side of the Locks.” She pointed down the channel to her left. “What about your run?”

“Grueling,” he admitted, redoing the knot of hair at his nape as they walked to his car. The cool morning air felt good on the back of his neck.

“I can only imagine. You couldn’t pay me enough to run that hill.”

“Really?” One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “You wouldn’t run it for a hundred credits?”

Stepping in front of him, she turned around and walked backwards. “Nope.”

“How about five hundred?”

“Let me think about it.” She put her finger to her cheek. “Nope. That’s not enough either.”

He chuckled. “That’s too bad, because I’d really like to see you sweaty and out of breath.”

“I can think of a few other activities I’d rather do to get me sweaty.” She lifted an elegant brow and gave him a sultry look, but she wasn’t watching where she was going and almost tripped on a crack in the pavement.

His arm shot out, pulling her close. “Careful,” he warned, staring at her luscious lips. “You could hurt yourself.” They continued walking—him forward, her backward.

The tip of her tongue darted out. “Not if you’re here to catch me.”

He felt himself growing hard. Again. When they got back to her place, he’d make love to her in the shower, he decided—her hands splayed against the tile and that sweet ass in front of him.

Guilt that was never far from the surface clawed at him again. He needed to tell her the truth about who he was. He couldn’t keep dragging it out. It wasn’t fair to her. She deserved to know. Plus, he was proud of what he did—it was a big part of his identity, and he wanted to share that part of himself with her. Not that he was falling for her or anything. No, it wasn’t that. It just seemed right for her to know.

Something behind him drew her attention and she frowned.

He turned, following the direction of her gaze.

Two men in dark clothing were behind a bridge piling near the rowing club. One slipped off what looked to be a heavy backpack, while the other man paced and glanced around nervously in the thin morning light.

“What do you think they’re doing?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t look good.”

There’d been a car bombing a few weeks ago. The authorities blamed it on Cascadians, of course, but there were those within the Iron Guild who believed the army was actually behind it. After all, it benefitted them to keep the tension high between the two worlds. You couldn’t exactly justify a big military presence without an imminent threat.

“Wait here. I’ll go see.”

She scoffed. “I’m coming with you.”

Jaw set sternly, he placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her in an iron grip. “No, you’re not, Keely. Not this time.”

The men were now hunched over a small black box with wires sticking out. As the Guild’s explosive expert, he had no doubt what this was.

“Fuck. It’s a bomb.” He shoved her in the opposite direction. “Run.”

***

Keely thought Toryn was right behind her until she got to the corner, threw a glance over her shoulder and saw that he was halfway back to the bridge. He’d run
toward
the men who were setting the bomb, not away.

She came to a screeching halt, sheer terror racing through her body. What was he thinking? It was two against one, and they were most likely armed. The authorities should be handling this, not Toryn.

She patted the pocket of her sweatshirt and remembered she’d left her cell phone in his Jeep. She’d once lost a phone in the lake while rowing, so she’d stopped taking it with her when she went out.

Damn it. She needed to call the police.

She spun around, looking for someone—
anyone
——and gasped with relief when she spotted an elderly man walking a tiny dog. Dashing over to him, she asked if he had a phone.

He frowned, his bushy gray eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“A phone! Do you have a phone?”

“You want to use my phone? Well, yes. I have one back at my apartment.”

Oh my God, could he talk any slower?

He pointed a gnarled finger in the general vicinity behind him. All she could see were empty warehouses. He must live a few blocks away. But she didn’t want Toryn out of her sight.

A maroon sedan was pulling into the rowing club parking lot. They had to have a cell phone, but in case they didn’t, she needed to have all her bases covered.

“Can you call the police?” she asked the old man. “Tell them there are two men down at the base of the bridge. My…my boyfriend thinks they’re planting a bomb.”

“A bomb? Oh my gosh. That’s terrible! Yes, yes, of course.” The man hurried off.

She turned to sprint toward the car but hesitated when she saw Toryn. He was crouched behind a stack of pallets about thirty feet from the men and was reaching out a hand in their direction.

What was he—?

Suddenly, both men jumped back from the box as if they’d been hit by something, but she couldn’t tell what.

Had Toryn done that? Used his Talent, maybe?

One man was covering his head with his arms as if he were expecting an explosion. She froze, holding her breath in horror. Toryn was too close. If it exploded, he’d be seriously injured…or worse.

When nothing happened, the men stepped back to the box. Then one of them reached down and jerked something out. Looked like wires. The other man shoved him and gestured wildly. He was clearly angry with his partner about this.

She glanced at the car. Crap. It wasn’t pulling into the rowing club. It was driving back out of the lot on the far side.

It was then that Toryn chose to step out from his hiding place and sprint toward the men.

They jerked their heads up in unison, but Toryn was lightning fast. One man swung a fist at him, but he easily dodged the punch and sent the guy skidding back on his haunches.

The other man reached into his coat, drew a weapon and pointed it straight at Toryn.

“Noooooo!” she screamed, anguish ripping a hole in her chest. This couldn’t be happening.

She braced herself against the coming bloodshed, but…wait. It looked like the assassin was saying something to Toryn. Then, a moment later, the gun flew from his hands, the trajectory arching upward as if it had been thrown, and it flew into the water about thirty feet from shore.

The man looked down, dumbfounded at his empty hand. It appeared as though he might charge Toryn. There was a flash as Toryn pulled out his blade.

And then she heard it. Sirens. Dozens of them.

Looking to the left, she could see the flashing lights on the other side of the channel. The bombers heard it too and took off running in the opposite direction. Her knees felt suddenly boneless, and she grabbed the chain link fence to steady herself.

It was over. Toryn had confronted the men and scared them off. But more importantly, he was unharmed.

A moment later, he was at her side. “Come on,” he commanded roughly, his hand enclosing around her upper arm and pulling her in the direction of his Jeep.