Diamonds (Den of Thieves Book 1) (18 page)

Holy shit. She was so screwed, and not in a good way.

Eva Tarrant sat in the expansive granite and chrome foyer of Kingwood Consolidated and did her best not to hyperventilate. She really did. Honest. It seemed her body hadn’t got the memo, though and was currently heading on its merry way into a full out panic attack.

Shit. Taking a deep breath, she used the breathing exercises her therapist taught her and tried to calm down. Calm down? Her lips twisted wryly at the thought. Until three weeks ago, she’d never had a problem with stress, and panic attacks were things that happened to other people. Eva had always been independent and self-sufficient; a woman making her own way in the world of business.

She looked around and winced. Okay, maybe not the world of big business, like Kingwood Consolidated, but she rocked the world of handmade cupcakes. Weddings, small conferences, parties… She was all over that shit like white on rice and her client list was growing nicely.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. And thanks to one stupid decision by her little brother it was all crashing down. She could lose everything. Business. House. Worse… It could cost Davie his life. Unless she did something about it today.

“Ms. Tarrant? Are you sure you have a meeting with Mr. Kingwood? I’ve checked his schedule and your name is not down.” The cultured voice of the receptionist behind the steel and glass desk in the middle of the floor broke through Eva’s musings. She opened her eyes to meet the woman’s gaze. Professional and disinterested, she’d assessed Eva with one glance when she’d arrived and apparently found her wanting. Eva didn’t blame her.

She didn’t fit in here. Not with her chain store dress—practical and hard-wearing, and her one pair of good shoes bought three years ago and still going strong. Her appearance was a far cry from the elegant sophistication of the perfectly groomed receptionist. She might not own designer clothes anymore, but she could spot them a mile off.

She lifted her chin, gaze hard and determined. “Yes, I’m sure. We have a one o’clock. Mr. Kingwood confirmed it himself.”

He hadn’t, of course. The last time Eva had seen Alex Kingwood had been ten years ago, when both were teenagers. Well, Eva was a teenager. He’d been about to hit his twentieth birthday when the relationship between her mother and his uncle broke down irretrievably. Somewhat of an understatement, considering they’d all been tossed out on their ears with little more than the clothes on their backs. Something her mother hadn’t stopped whining about since.

Outrageous, utterly outrageous… That Charles could treat me this way
, she was prone to whining, often into her fourth drink of the day, as though she was some wellborn socialite rather than a waitress the wealthy werewolf had picked up one evening.

And wealthy the Kingwoods were. Excessively so. During her mother’s marriage to Charles, money had been no object. Wardrobes filled with expensive clothes, foreign holidays, jewelry… Her mom had had it all. Before she’d thrown it all away for a quick screw with a handsome pool boy. 

That had been the last Eva had seen of any of the Kingwoods, in the flesh anyway. She’d followed them on the news like everyone else, but when her co-workers cooed over how handsome Alex, now the alpha of the Kingwood pack, was she’d always refused to give a comment. As nice looking as the man might be, looks didn’t help the fact that he was a ruthless SOB.

And one she had to charm into helping her. Shit. This was so not going to work.

“Really? One o’clock?” The receptionist pursed her perfectly glossed lips. Red gloss, really? Did Alex insist on his female staff looking like real-life sex dolls or did they dress that way on their own, hoping to snag the billionaire werewolf’s attention? “That’s funny because he has a one-fifteen with a client.”

“It’s a quick meeting.”

Yeah, like real quick. Probably about the amount of time it’d take for him to summon security and have her thrown out. Eva crossed her fingers and kept her expressions off her face. Mind you, if the woman in front of her were a werewolf, she’d smell the nerves leeching from Eva’s pores in a hot heartbeat. But while elegant, she didn’t move with the lethal fluidity that marked a werewolf so perhaps Eva was safe. For the moment.

Shit. Why couldn’t the woman have taken her word for it and shown her to Alex’s office? It would have been so much easier to waylay him then and get him to talk to her.

“Let me just ch—” The woman didn’t get to finish her sentence, cut off by a commotion at the doors. Eva shrank behind the line of potted plants as security guards swept through ahead of a small group. Unlike the girl at reception, these were lycan, their amber eyes and movements betraying them. A man walked behind them, and a slender brunette talking a mile a minute trotted after him in heels so high, Eva would have broken an ankle just taking a step.

She froze as recognition kicked in a moment before the man stopped, sliding his sunglasses down his nose as he turned to look at her.

Alex.

He’d grown up. 
Boy
 had he grown up.

All traces of the lean youth were gone. The body under the suit was broad-shouldered and powerful, despite the fact businessmen were known to push more paper than pump weights. His features had hardened, become stronger… more defined. The teenager he had been was the unformed version of the man who stood before her now.

The effect was devastating.

Taking the glasses off, he turned away, effectively dismissing her as he carried on across the floor. Eva was out of her chair and across the room like a shot.

“Alex? Alex, it’s me.” Dammit, she had to get him to talk to her. To help her.

He turned to spear her with a look, the amber ring offsetting the blue, just the way she remembered. For a moment, she quailed under the hard gaze and almost lost her nerve. Then she thought of Davie’s name on a headstone 
if
 the vamps he owed money to left enough of his body to be found. The steel in her spine returned.

“Eva Tennant? My mother, Naomi, was marri—”

“I know who you are.” He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. Asshole. 
Hot
 asshole. That thought didn’t make her feel any better. “I’m more interested in what you want.”

“She claims to have a one o’clock with you, Mr. Kingwood,” the receptionist simpered. The breathy note in her voice was a new addition since Eva had spoken with her minutes ago. Sex appeal and availability practically dripped from her and she might as well dry hump Alex’s leg, she was so obvious. Eva clenched her jaw to avoid making a comment.

Alex nodded to the woman, not taking his eyes from Eva.

“I need your help. Please. For Davie.” 

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About Mina Carter:

Mina was born and raised in the East Farthing of Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England) and spend her childhood learning all the sorts of things generally required of a professional adventurer. Able to ride, box, shoot, make and read maps, make chainmail and use a broadsword (with varying degrees of efficiency) she was disgusted to find that adventuring is not considered a suitable occupation these days.

So, instead of slaying dragons and hunting vampires and the like, Mina spends her days writing about hot shifters, government conspiracies and vampire lords with more than their fair share of RAWR. Turns out wanna-be adventurers have quite the turn of imagination after all…

(But she keeps that sword sharp, just in case the writing career is just a dream and she really *is* an adventurer.)

The boring part: A full time author and cover artist, Mina can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or graphics tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She’s addicted to coffee and would like to be addicted to chocolate, but unfortunately chocolate dislikes her.

www.http://mina-carter.com/