Scorched Fury: A SkinWalker Novel #5 (DarkWorld: SkinWalker) (4 page)

"I'm sure you'll all manage," I said as I pulled myself out of the past. I scooted forward on the seat and got to my feet. "I really have to go."

I gave him tight smile, realizing too late that moving from the chair had been a bad idea because I now stood an inch from Justin, hemmed in by his well-muscled thighs.

And he knew it. He moved his hands and rested them on my hips. Although I stiffened, they didn't fall away.

"Have you thought about my proposal?" asked Justin, his voice low as he watched me intently.

I nodded. "Yes. I have. And my answer is the same. I don't think it's a good idea. I'm in a relationship, and I don't believe in personal relationships for political reasons."

"You can't seriously be telling me that you don't feel what we have. You and I both know that a relationship between us would definitely not be for political reasons."

I let out a short laugh. "The last time we had anything going on between us I was seventeen, and very naive. Going to Chicago was the smartest thing I could have ever done. It taught me a lot about who I was."

"But I already knew who you were." His voice was soft, and I suspected he was right.

I'd been torn in so many different directions that I'd failed to see my own strengths, whereas to those around me they were obvious.

The silence hung between us.

When I didn't respond, he said, "A person's feelings don't change overnight, Kai. You found love again, but that didn't happen for me."

I let out a sharp laugh. "I may have been all the way in Chicago, but people still felt the need to inform me of your rampant love life."

"I never said I was a monk." Justin laughed, completely unaffected. "Look, all I want is for you to give it some serious consideration."

I raised my eyebrows. "Do you seriously think that I'm so fickle that I'd leave the man that I'm with while he's in a coma and probably dying, to run off and marry somebody else?" I shook my head. "I wouldn't think you'd want to be married to someone like that."

"That's not what I was asking you to do." Justin cupped my face with both of his hands. "We still have something special between us. That's something that can never die, no matter how hard you try to kill it. Right now, Logan is lying there in a coma. He may die. He may live. Either way you still need to make a decision. All I'm asking is for you to think about what we have together, to consider who it is you want spend the rest of your life with."

But I was already shaking my head. "You asked me this question before. When Logan was fine. And I told you then that I wasn't interested. What makes you think I'd be interested now?"

Justin didn't answer. He bent down and placed his lips on mine giving me a soft, tender kiss. Nothing passionate, just a gentle butterfly kiss. Then he took a step away and headed to the doorway. "Just think about it. And I mean really think about what you want out of life, who you want in life."

Before I could answer, he was gone, leaving me standing by the window, alone with my thoughts.

CHAPTER 5

T
HE
S
UPREME
H
IGH
C
OUNCIL
DID
THINGS
their own way. Likely due to centuries of doing just that. Their Chicago Elite headquarters was located in an old two-storied colonial home, its red-brick exterior, little white porch and black window shutters elegant and respectable to a fault.

Likewise, their forensics division was located nearby, in an equally regal residence, making my regular trips between the two divisions pleasant and short.

Fresh air was better than canned elevator music any day.

Elms and oaks guided me toward the forensics building, and I headed up stairs swept clean of the debris of shedding blooms from the ancient jacaranda that dominated the tiny courtyard. The beautiful purple blossoms gave the house a friendly and welcome feel.

I slipped my key card out of my pocket and swiped it through the reader. The door opened with a soft click, and I entered, quickly closing it behind me.

The tiny front hall was silent and claustrophobic, and I placed my helmet on the floor and swiped my card again, eager to get inside. The second level of security was important given the importance of evidence on site. Hence the need for keycards and fingerprint scanners.

The black square panel gleamed, backlit by a neon green light that intermittently scanned the panel from top to bottom. On the off-chance that both key cards and thumbprints were of the stolen variety, the cameras guarding the door were manned by twenty-four-seven security who were authorized to capture and contain any intruder.

Overkill, maybe. But you just never knew.

The reception desk, usually manned by stern-faced Gerda Charles, a level 1 Mind Mage, was empty, but the steaming mug confirmed she wasn't far off.

The inner hall was silent, and smelled overpoweringly of lilies and furniture polish. Furniture wax I could handle, but a mere whiff of the pungent fragrance of lilies was always enough to give me a headache. I held my breath as I scurried across the entryway and up the stairs, making a quick left at the landing. Two doors down I opened the glass door to Dr Archana Gupta's office without knocking.

With her rich copper skin, black hair that hung to her waist and exotically shaped, almost feline eyes, she looked more like she belonged on the big screen than behind a microscope.

Ash looked at me as I entered, excitement flashing in her black eyes despite both being distorted by a pair of thick goggles. She slid the protective eyewear up, and rested them in the dark hair that framed her heart-shaped face.

"Perfect timing." She crooked a finger at me, then rose and walk to a microscope on a long table against the back wall. She pointed at the eyepiece and said, "Take a look."

I obeyed, unsure of what I was supposed to see.

When I straightened and frowned at her she clicked her tongue in annoyance. I'd known the technician only a few weeks, and been unapologetically impressed with her supernatural forensics skills. She used more than just her expensive equipment to study the samples I sent her.

Often she'd insist on checking out the scene herself, and I'd accompany her just to see if her extra sensory skills were as good as I thought. We'd passed the early friendship stage almost instantly, moving on to relaxed sibling bickering within seconds.

"That is a sample of your black gunk, and if you look closely-"

"Nice to see
you
gracing us with your presence, Odel." An icy voice drifted toward me from the open doorway and I stiffened.

"I do work here, Sean." I murmured without turning. One of the reasons I'd always preferred to work alone was I never had the need to deal with people like Sean Martin. I had no time to entertain overly ambitious backstabbers either inside or outside of my job.

Sean snorted. "If what you do can be called work."

Sean was a Level 6 Air Mage – I'd learned quickly the rankings of supernaturals, with 1 being lowest and 10 being unclassifiable - who, as far as I knew, had been recruited two months prior to me, when the Elders had decided it was time to up the ante.

They'd selected Sean for his air magic, and I was fine with that. He, on the other hand wasn't fine with me. My very presence had irked him from the moment we'd met. His strawberry-blond hair was pulled back into a tight, low ponytail, giving him a deceptively casual air. Not a hair was out of place, not a thread marred the surface of his dark suit.

For some odd reason Sean seemed to think that belonging to the Elite meant he was required to dress like an FBI agent, all tailored black pants and jacket left open to reveal a crisp white shirt. Right on cue, his gaze drifted over me, taking in my low-heeled leather boots, black skinny jeans and white tank. He even spent a moment studying the leather jacket I held on my arm.

I very much regretted having left my helmet in the front hall. That at least would have gotten a much higher lift to his currently curved left eyebrow.

He gave a long sigh. "You know, I'm kind of glad you don't care much for image. Means I have less competition in that department."

I shrugged. "Image doesn't matter jack if you can't get the job done."

His black eyes flashed, as if I was criticizing his case successes. I knew very little about his cases, or whether or not he'd achieved a one hundred percent success rate.

"I'll have you know the only reason I don't have one hundr- "

"Look Sean, this isn't a race for me. If you want to compete against me, go right ahead. Just know that I'm not running."

He sniffed, then tugged the edges of his suit jacket before smoothing down the front seams of his pants. "Doesn't make much a difference does it?" His mouth curled, the bitter sneer so slight I would have missed it had I blinked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He was finally beginning to piss me off.

"What it means is being favored by the higher-ups gives you an edge. Only the best of the best are selected for the Elite. And somehow you made it on board. I wonder why that is? Maybe it's your Alpha status, because you certainly don't have the track record to prove your merit. Or maybe there are other reasons." His gaze settled pointedly at my chest.

The nerve of the guy.

I bit back a much-deserved selection of profanity and said, "I think you're deluded. There is no favoring."

Sexist bastard.

Then I stopped speaking. Trying to reason with Sean was like trying to coax a starving lion from devouring a fresh kill. That, and I didn't care for office politics. Sean's brother Tate had missed out on a place with the Elite and he'd held it against me from the moment we'd met.

Seems he's holding it against my boobs too.

I bit back a laugh. I'd have to keep one eye on my back at all times when it came to Sean.

Now, I met his gaze steadily. "I have work to do. If you want something, do tell."

This time both his eyebrows rose, his gaze drifting toward Ash. "Do you have my DNA results?" The condescending tone he used made me want to strangle him on the spot. Sean could pick on me all he wanted but I didn't care because it was competitive, if a little misogynistic, but his prejudicial attitude toward Ash set my teeth on edge.

My fingers closed into a tight fist and Ash cleared her throat, giving my hand a pointed look. Okay, so the girl can fight her own battles. But she'd better know I was right there if she needed me.

Ash gave Sean a blank smile. "I apologize, Agent Martin. I'm only following protocol and Kai's evidence takes precedence given the importance of her case."

Wow. Okay, so looked like I didn't need to save her. Her clipped, formal English made her little dressing down all the more cutting and I enjoyed the pink spots that bloomed on Sean's pale cheeks.

So, tough guys do blush.

He straightened then turned on his heel to face me. That he completely ignored Ash didn't go amiss. Sean pointed a manicured finger at my nose. "This is exactly what I mean about
you
running roughshod over everyone else's cases. Nobody jumps the line, and yet
you
suddenly get to?"

I gave a nonchalant shrug. "If you have a problem with it, speak to Horner." I looked at her over my shoulder. "You need my help with anything while we wait for the Fat Lady to be done?"

The Fat Lady, aka Ash's mass spectrometer, whirred in the background and I could have sworn the machine had mumbled something about being done when she's done.

She nodded as Sean headed for the door, and tipped her head at the folder. "Plant morphology just confirmed your report is ready. You can grab it from the printer."

I ignored the sound of Sean's raised voice in the corridor outside as I stalked to the printer in the corner. Ash was explaining the report to me when Sean re-entered the room. "So what's your next move?"

"I beg your pardon," I asked with a scowl. I'd hoped we'd gotten rid of the guy. But I should have known better.

Most of my cases were top secret, which pissed Sean off even more because he couldn't poke his nose around in my business.

"Horner gave me the low down on the Ash Tree case." Sean sounded very sure of himself. Too sure. "What's your next move?"

"What does it matter to you?" I asked, sharing a glance with Ash who proceeded to tap away at her keyboard, sending me copies of everything with a written explanation. She understood that I wouldn't want to discuss anything further about the case in front of Sean.

"Odel, there is no I in 'team'. Keeping your cards close to your chest doesn't help you in the long run."

"I don't need your help, Agent Martin. If I do, I'll be sure to let you know. And besides, you don't have clearance."

Sean smiled, his face an icy mask. "But Carson just told me about the case. No need to hold anything back." He gave an encouraging smile.

I shifted and faced the air mage, caring little that he could freeze every single liquid cell in my body with a flick of his little finger. "You need clearance to be involved in this. And I know for certain that neither Carson nor Horner want the details of the case to be common knowledge. When I get informed that
you
are on the list, then I'll be happy to share. Until then, I'm sorry."