Deadlocked (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 3) (17 page)

Nash took a step towards me, setting his drink on the
counter. He grasped my elbow and tipped my head up to look at him with his
finger under my chin. “You could have told me, any time. I would have helped
you work through it. That’s what we should do for each other.”

I blinked, trying to keep my eyes from welling up. “I
know. I’m sorry.” I tried to look away, but Nash held my chin, searching my
face.

He held me like that for a moment, waiting, watching, until
I was finally able to stop trying to avoid his gaze and stared back at him. He
smiled. “We’re mates, Harry. We’re connected. We need to learn how to act
like a team, to be there for one another, no matter what. I did a shit-poor
job of it last night, I know. But this thing between us is new to me too.
I’ve been on my own even longer than you. It’s going to take us both some
time.” He smiled gently.

“This thing?” The corner of my mouth quirked up.

“Yeah, this thing.” Nash laughed, but then his face became
serious again. “I love you, Harry. I do.”

I blinked at him in surprise and then swallowed the knot in
my throat. “Even with my fucked up parents?”

Nash laughed again and pulled me into a tight hug. He
kissed the top of my head. “Yeah, even with your fucked up parents.”

He held me for a moment and I let myself lean into him,
finally feeling like the emptiness I had felt last night was gone. I sighed and
wiped a tear that had escaped down my cheek.

“I…”

I wanted to say I loved him back. That’s what I was
supposed to do, wasn’t it? But my feelings were so mixed up. How could I love
someone I barely knew?

“It’s okay, Harry,” Nash whispered, sensing my inner turmoil.
“I can wait.” He sighed contentedly and pulled me
closer.

“It’s not funny, old wolf,” I complained, stomping my foot
for effect. I scowled at the dress again. “There is no frigging way…”

We were back at the suite in Salvador’s penthouse. I was
supposed to be getting dressed for the banquet, but there was no way on heaven
or earth I was going to wear the dress that had been laid out for me.

Nash laughed again. “Come on, Harry, it’s not that bad.” I
scowled at him, but he continued on, oblivious. “It might be kind of sexy.
Look at all that leg you’re going to show off, and it’s off the shoulders.” He
came up behind me and nibbled at his mark on the back of my neck. “You know
how much I love your neck.”

I couldn’t help the little shiver of desire that ran down my
spine. I elbowed him in the stomach playfully and took a step away. “Easy for
you to say, you get to wear a tux, a normal looking tux.”

I looked at the offending dress again. It was, as far as I
could tell, a flamenco dress in black with red accents. And by accents I mean
ruffles! The neckline was a straight-cut, off the shoulders deal, with a big
ruffle. The hemline while it started at the ankle on one side, veered north so
that there was a deep slit over the thigh on the opposite side, pinned up with
a freaking big poof of material that I guess was supposed to be a flower of
some sort. And did I mention the ruffles? Row on row of ruffles lined the
bottom half of the dress. It was positively hideous.

“No. This is where I draw the line. I refuse to play dress
up doll any longer.” I grabbed the dress and stalked out of the room.

Downstairs in the penthouse, I found Salvador already
dressed and looking very elegant, lounging by the windows, sipping whiskey. He
turned, the smile falling from his face, as I approached. I noticed Isaac
sitting in the corner. His normally impassive face broke into a grin at the
sight of the dress in my hands. I shot him a dirty look.

“Harry, my dear, shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”
Salvador’s smile had returned, his eyes twinkling.

“Not in this monstrosity, I’m not.” I shook the dress at
him. “What exactly is the meaning of this?”

Salvador looked at the dress appraisingly. “Why it is the
traditional garb of Catalina’s homeland. You might have noticed how she
prefers to hold to the old traditions.”

“Yeah, so?” I frowned at him. “So we have to as well?” I
paced across the room. “Why are we kowtowing to this woman? Isn’t she the one
you believe is going to make a move on you? Are you planning on bending over
and handing her the lube?” I stopped, biting my lip. Me and my big mouth. I
just never knew when to quit. I flashed a glance at Isaac to where he sat,
his hand across his mouth, obviously trying not to laugh.

I looked at Salvador, holding my breath. He eyed me for a
moment, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. Suddenly, he barked out an amused
laugh, startling the hell out of me.

“Oh Harry, you are such a breath of fresh air. You continue
to delight me.” He laughed a deep, belly laugh. I turned to look at Nash, who
had come to stand partway down the stairs. He shrugged at me. I turned back to
Salvador. He had totally lost it. His eyes met mine again and he shook his
head. “You may wear whatever you wish,
Pequeña
. I’m sure you can find
something you like up there.” He waved me along. “Now you had better hurry.
I do not wish to be late to my own party.” He smiled like a Cheshire cat. I
turned to go, feeling a little shellshocked, but then stopped when Salvador
said my name again. “Oh, and Harry,” he said, his face now deadly serious, “I
have no intentions of bending over and taking it.” His eyes flashed.

I swallowed, feeling the sheer power of his gaze wash over
me. “G-g-good,” I managed to stutter and then turned and all but ran up the
stairs.

***

“You look beautiful, Angharad,” Salvador leaned over his arm
to speak to me quietly. “I commend your taste.” He led me through the big
double doors.

“Thanks,” I shrugged. “All I did was pick something you had
already bought.”

I was dressed in a very chic art deco style beaded gown.
Floor length, with the hem slightly trailing behind me, the dress was crafted from
pure silk in a sheer nude tulle. Black and silver beads and sequins were
arranged over the entire length of the dress giving it the illusion of a
plunging neckline and backless finish but offering me the modesty of covering
up all my important bits. I completed the look with a pair of sky-high, Dolce
and Gabbana, peep toe booties in a nude lace, an exact match for the
dress. They carried on the vintage feel I had going, with a dainty row of
button detailing up the front. I bet they would look killer with a pair of
skinny jeans, as it was you couldn’t really see much of them under my gown. But
that was okay, because it also meant that no one would see the dagger I had
strapped just above in a holster on my calf.

“And so we both have good taste,” Salvador purred, placing a
hand over mine, where it rested on his arm. He was escorting me into the
ballroom that I didn’t even know existed above Dante’s. He had held back,
letting all the other guests arrive and begin to mingle so that we could make
some sort of grand entrance. The Magister was nothing if not an expert in putting
on a good show.

Everyone was in their finery and not a soul was dressed in
ruffles. I gave Salvador a dirty look and he laughed as if reading my mind.
Of course, it had been some sort of test. Everything he did seemed to be part
of an overall plan to challenge me, evaluate me. For what, I had no clue. But
I was really getting tired of it.

“Would you have really let me wear that awful dress?” I
looked at him through narrowed eyes.

Salvador smiled and gave a Gallic shrug. “You have never
disappointed me yet,
Pequeña.
”
Little
one
, he called me.
I had asked Tess what it meant.

I snorted a little laugh. That wasn’t really an answer, but
it was all I was going to get. I pasted a fake smile on my face as we glided
through the room, Salvador nodding greetings to everyone we passed. I found it
odd that Tomas was nowhere to be found. He was usually glued to Salvador’s
side. I commented on his absence to Salvador but he merely gave me one of his
enigmatic smiles and said that Tomas was otherwise occupied. I looked at him
critically, but then decided against pursuing it further.

I scanned the room and found Nash looking devilishly
handsome in his dark, shawl collared tuxedo. I gave him a wink and he tugged
on his shirtsleeve with a little smirk.

“
You clean up nice, old wolf
.”

“
You’re not too shabby yourself, minx
.”

I smiled, loving the intimacy of being able to speak to him
mind-to-mind. Salvador looked at me, an eyebrow peaked in question. I smiled
back, giving him one of his own patented Cheshire grins in return.

He steered us towards where Nash was standing, acting as impromptu
bodyguard for his mother and the other members of the Triad. I seemed to have
picked up my own set of guards as well when we entered the ballroom, with
Isaac, looking dapper as ever in a tuxedo similar to Nash’s and Hilde, looking
very smart in the black jumpsuit she borrowed from Tess, trailing a few feet
behind us.

“Eleanor,” Salvador beamed throwing his arms wide in
greeting. “You look devine.” He took her offered hand and gave it a chaste
kiss. She was dressed very elegantly in a bright, tangerine coloured, pleated
chiffon gown. It had a modestly plunging, v-neckline and kimono sleeves, the
fitted high-waist flattering her more matronly shaped figure.

“Salvador,” Eleanor nodded her greeting, “you’re as
silver-tongued as ever.” She turned to look at me appraisingly. “And Harry,
you look truly timeless in that gorgeous dress.” She glanced from me to
Salvador, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know why I never noticed the
family resemblance before.” She reached out and patted my hand. “You are your
father’s daughter, Harry.” She gave me a pointed look. “Never forget that.”

Uh, okay, so that was weird. It was almost like she was
trying to tell me something but I was obviously too dense to get it. “Thank
you, Eleanor,” I said, “You do look lovely this evening.” I turned to James and
Charlie and gave them both a smile. “And you gentlemen certainly look dapper.”

James tugged at the collar of his shirt, shaking his head.
“Truthfully, I’d rather be wearing anything other than this monkey suit.” He
grimaced.

Eleanor patted his hand. “James Martin, don’t be such a
puppy. You’ll survive.”

The waiter came by just then with a tray of champagne and we
all helped ourselves. We chit chatted, making small talk. It was all very
normal and yet very strange, the feeling in the room that something big was
going to happen almost palpable.

A few minutes later, we were joined by Max Hart. He was
flanked by two mages I didn’t know, but I assumed they were his security
detail. We traded the niceties of conversation, idly waiting for the show,
whatever it was, to begin.

“Have you met Detective Nash?” I asked Max.

“No, I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity,” Max replied.

“Well, let me introduce you then.” I took Max by the arm
and led him over to Nash. “Maxwell Hart,” I tried to hide the little giggle
his name elicited, clearing my throat to cover it, “may I introduce Detective
Cian Nash?” I looked at Nash and added, “my mate.” Nash beamed at me and held
out his hand to Max. I looked at his outstretched hand wondering what Max
would do and then suddenly remembered myself. “Nash,” I continued in a rush, “this
is Maxwell Hart, newly elected Hammer of the Conclave.”

Max smiled and took Nash’s hand without hesitation. “Just
call me Max, and yes,” he added looking at me with a grin, “I often wonder what
my parents were thinking naming me Maxwell Hart at a time when the TV show
Get
Smart
was at its prime.”

I laughed along with him. “Please, you’re talking to
someone named Angharad. I can totally relate.”

A loud commotion at the ballroom entrance turned our heads. The
large double doors opened and what appeared to be an honour guard trooped in,
two by two. They were dressed in some sort of traditional uniform in the
Catalonian colours of red and yellow. The Mariposa and her sons entered next,
followed by Deirdre - I still wasn’t going to call her my mother. They were
all extravagantly attired in traditional Spanish garb, the Mariposa’s
mantilla
reaching record-breaking heights, the lace shawl covering her shoulders right
down to the middle of her back. It was like watching a walking museum
exhibit.

Next came the reprehensible Benecio, who held, not one, but
two leashes. The wolf from last night padded along at the end of one leash. I
followed the second leash to the end to see what, or rather who, was chained
there, my level of hatred for the man increasing tenfold at the sight. A
pretty, young woman – a werewolf, was bound by a familiar gold collar. She was
dressed in a skimpy flamenco style dress and was clearly unhappy to be
there. I threw a worried glance at Nash. He met my eyes and nodded. He had
seen her too. He balled his hands into fists at his sides, but otherwise gave
no clue to the outrage he was feeling.

Several other of the Mariposa’s entourage brought up the rear,
including another dozen guards. I looked at Salvador, but he seemed unconcerned
at this apparent show of force. The guards took up watch around the perimeter
of the ballroom. They were probably evenly matched by the number of werewolf
enforcers and vampire guards that Salvador had on duty.

I watched the procession finish filing in, starting in
surprise when I recognized one of their number. It was the creepy old guy that
had approached me at the hospital. I turned and caught Isaac’s eye, waving him
close. “That’s the guy. That’s the ancient guy that gave me the card at the hospital.”

Isaac’s gaze followed mine to the old man. He was dressed
all in black in an odd looking suit. “Yes, that’s who I thought you had
encountered. He is the Mariposa’s lifelong bonded servant, appropriately
called ‘The Undertaker’.”

I laughed in surprise. The nickname certainly suited the old guy.
“Lifelong servant? How old is he?”

“I doubt if anyone knows, but he has been with the Mariposa
since shortly after she turned.”

“What?” I looked at Isaac in shock. “But that would mean
he is hundreds of years old. How can that be when he’s human?”

“The human servant-vampire bond is not fully understood, but
it is thought that a part of the aura of the vampire that creates the bond
stays linked to the human thus contributing to their longevity.” He shrugged.
“It is very uncommon for a vampire to forge such a bond. This is only the
second such bond that I am aware of.”

“Really?” Nash asked. He had been following our
conversation with interest. “What happened to the other one?”