Warrior Enchanted: The Sons of the Zodiac (16 page)

“Pretty much,” Drake agreed cheerfully as he restrapped the blade to his calf.

Without thinking, she channeled that anger. Flames rose up around them immediately, a tight, hot circle of light. “You really don’t want to press me on this.”

Drake shrugged as he stood up. “Since your brother’s gifts are most likely as strong as yours, I can’t see how your little light show will do anything against him.”

“A little light show? I’ll have you know I’m far stronger than my brother.”

“You just told me he wasn’t practicing magic.”

“He’s practicing something, and I’m not going to sit in my room like a fucking useless bump on a log. When that door opens I’m going through it with you.”

“Like hell you are.” Before she could say anything further, Drake had her wrapped in his arms as the hallway vanished around them.

Finley heard the heavy footsteps before the swinging door flung wide on its hinges. Grey walked into the kitchen, his designer suit fresh and crisp. He’d also managed to snag a shower, the cap of his dark hair gleaming in the overhead lights.

He looked amazing.

And now that he was finally here, she could begin her arguments to get herself home.

Although she was more than grateful to Callie, Ilsa and Montana for their time and attention, she wanted to go home. Wanted to touch her own things, wear her own clothes and curl up in her own bed.

She didn’t miss Grey’s unerring gaze as he moved through the door, unleashing an involuntary shiver down her spine.

How did he always manage to make her feel like she was the only woman in the world?

Finley glanced down at the pink baby doll T-shirt
and sweatpants Ilsa had given her earlier. Although she had similar items at home, she felt deliciously exposed here in front of him, with her breasts on display and the word “Juicy” emblazoned across her ass.

Her thoughts over the last months had been increasingly distracted with images of the mysterious Grey Bennett and if there was anything the last twenty-four hours had taught her, it was that it was a very bad idea.

Even if he
looked
like a very good idea.

“Where the hell have you been all day?” Callie’s irate holler pulled her gaze off Grey and on the small spitfire that, from what she’d been able to figure, ran the house with iron-clad control. In awe she watched as Callie marched straight up to Grey, her fist shaking as she dressed him down.

“Working through some things with Quinn.” Grey’s relaxed demeanor and laconic voice never changed. Finley wasn’t sure if he was holding back anger or had simply developed an immunity to Callie’s tactics.

“And you couldn’t even be bothered to come down here and give this woman some updates?”

He shrugged and she fought the urge to sigh at how the motion drew the eye toward his broad shoulders. “You and the girls have been chewing her ears off all day.”

“So you had time to spy from Quinn’s computers?”

Grey shook his head as Callie tried to box him in. “Yes, I spent the day in the security center, which you damn well know. And since I knew Ms. McCrae was in good hands with you, Ilsa and Montana, I didn’t spend time worrying about entertaining her. Instead, Quinn
and I spent the day trying to figure out who the asshole was who set her up.”

“Did you get anywhere?” Finley stood up from the large table that took up the center of the room and walked toward him. She kept her voice measured—what she thought of as her well-honed lawyer tone—but even she heard the hope that ringed the edges of her words.

“Not yet.”

“Look, Grey. Everyone”—she nodded to Callie and the women in turn—“you’ve all been incredibly kind to me. But I need to get out of here and back to my life. I’ve got several cases I’m working on and I need to get back to it. Back to my job.”

“I’d rather you stayed here.”

Finley saw the tight line of his lips and realized, with absolute certainty, those words had cost him. “I need to get back to my life.”

“To the people who set you up?”

Ilsa let out a low whistle and mumbled, “Here come the fireworks,” but opted to say nothing else.

Montana took a more proactive approach as Finley felt her move up to provide support at her flank. “Grey. Come on, surely we can put some detail on her until we figure out what’s going on.”

“There is no other way. She’s in danger and it’s not a danger the average human bodyguard can deal with.”

Montana reached for her hand and squeezed. “Well, you don’t have to scare her with it.”

“Why not? You should know the feeling. You lived with it more recently than anyone else here. She’s
become a target, Montana. I won’t shirk my responsibilities to keeping her safe.”

“No one’s shirking anything.” Finley interrupted the brewing battle. “But I can’t just leave my job, Grey. I’ve worked too long and too hard to get it. If you think the situation’s that dire, I’ve got internal resources outside my immediate superiors and coworkers. I can get help and I can get protection.”

“No.”

As he dug in, the need to stick to her guns only grew. With a small smile, she turned toward the women. “Callie. Montana. Ilsa. Could I have some time with Grey?”

A few murmured “of course’s” later and the kitchen was devoid of everyone but the two of them.

“Why are you so insistent on this? And why do you care this much? I’d think you’d be glad to find a solution that got me out of your hair.”

“I’m not looking for an easy solution. I’m looking for the right one.”

“Well, keeping me here isn’t it.”

“I think it is.”

Frustration coursed through her in the same heavy, pounding waves of the bass music at his club. She’d never had any doubt Grey Bennett was a powerful man. Although it would have been easy to dismiss him simply as a New York club owner, his demeanor had always suggested more.

But she’d confirmed it when some light digging on him turned up nothing. Not even a driver’s license.

No one could live that far off the grid, no matter how hard they tried.

Being that unavailable meant you proactively worked at it.

Although it had taken her a long time, this case with Gavelli had given her a reason to talk to him. And once she’d been seen befriending the club’s owner, others were a bit easier around her. The bartenders were friendlier and the cocktail waitresses were a little freer with the small details that seemed like nothing but added up to some really large clues.

It was clear nobody knew the whole story—nor did they even know a whole lot—but it was the stray comments she’d begun to weave together into something more.

Mr. Bennett’s irregular travel schedule. His odd hours. The limited-access areas in the club.

And the regular comings and goings of a group of very large men who frequented the club and the inner sanctum of Mr. Bennett’s office.

The only reason she got that last bit was because several of the waitresses had their eyes firmly clamped on Mr. Bennett’s friends. And the first rule she’d learned, all the way back in the sixth grade, was that no one was quicker to share a wink and some gossip than a woman in the throes of a hormone rush.

What she’d also discovered, despite her very best efforts, was that she was deeply, horribly and utterly obsessed with Grey Bennett.

And that’s when she realized that perhaps she was playing this all wrong. She’d been so focused on getting away. Maybe she needed to change her tactics and focus on getting close. And getting some answers.

Her gaze stroked over his body, the rich fabric of his
suit doing nothing to hide the barely leashed power underneath. Finley felt the pull down deep inside, that feminine curl of need low in the belly, just before it settled between her thighs.

“You can keep a watch on me, but I want to go home and I want to go to my job. I’ll check in. I can meet you or any one of these people you share your life with who you think can protect me.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

The fear from the night before struck with swift force. That moment she’d stood in the goon’s arms, realizing what a bad decision she’d made. Was she making another one? Even as she thought it, she refused to back down. Refused to live her life on anyone else’s terms. “It’s my final offer.”

The subtle lines that bracketed Grey’s eyes softened along with his voice. “Why do you need to do this so bad?”

“It’s who I am. I work for justice and I finish what I start.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “I have to do this.”

“Stubborn,” he muttered, taking a step toward her.

She forced herself to keep her gaze firmly on his, even as she wanted to look her fill of his broad chest and the power that hovered around him like an aura. “Clearly you’re familiar with the trait.”

He didn’t reply, the moment heavy with unspoken needs as the memory of their kiss the night before swirled around her. In her mind, the memory wrapped around them both, and she could almost believe she was right as he took another step closer.

“Who are you, Grey Bennett?”

“I’m the man who’s going to find out who set you up and kill them.”

“Kill them?” The luscious buzz that coursed through her body was immediately doused at his words. The gray of his eyes had gone a dark, steely hue and she couldn’t repress the shiver at what he implied.

“You can’t kill anyone! And certainly not on my behalf.”

Grey moved forward, up into her space. The corded muscles of his neck stood out in harsh relief. His breath was warm on her face and that thrumming low in her belly started again at the realization she needed only to lean forward a hairsbreadth to kiss him. “Try me.”

He was so close—and what she
wanted
was so close—all she had to do was lean forward and take it.

Take the moment and satisfy her curiosity.

A rush of air exploded in her ear as a loud crash hit behind them. Finley felt her world tilt as Grey snatched her up in his arms and dragged her to the far side of the kitchen.

When they came to a standstill, she looked over Grey’s shoulder, shocked to see Drake cradling Emerson in his arms.

Rogan watched Eris slip from the bed and pad toward the bathroom. The sounds of the shower started almost immediately and he briefly toyed with joining her before he acknowledged he needed to get going himself. Grey and Drake had walked into a shit-storm the night before and he knew they needed his help.

Even as the urge to stay pulsed with a steady throb in his veins, he dragged himself out of bed and crossed
the room to his clothes. There was absolutely nothing healthy about what went on between the two of them, and the closer he got to her, the more he put his family at risk. But like a drug that hooked after one taste, he couldn’t stay away from Eris.

She fucking
owned
his ass.

And while she might be known as the goddess of discord in the rest of her life, he’d never felt this
content
in all of his.

He was already thinking about how quickly he could get back to Vegas—back to Eris—as he spied his jeans. Bending down to snag them, he slammed his shoulder on the small table the hotel had placed there, presumably for decoration.

Fuck. Not only did the woman make him mindless, now he could add clumsy to the list.

He picked up her heavy purse where it had fallen to the floor—what the hell did an immortal need with a loaded handbag?—and dropped it back on the table. A loud ping caught his attention, and he spied her phone still on the floor and lying along a back leg.

As he reached for it, the text that had caused the ping still showed on the phone’s flat screen.

Rogan read the display, everything inside of him going cold and numb with the reminder of who she really was.

THE PISCES SAW ME AND KNOWS WHO I AM
.
I’M GOING AFTER HIM.

“D
rake!” Emerson clung to his midsection as her feet took purchase on the ground. He’d done this…
this thing
…midargument at her house and she hadn’t quite caught her breath. “What the hell’d you do that for?” She ran a hand through her hair, dragging on the spikes as she puzzled through what they’d just seen.

Her brother. And that weird thing with his eyes. And the snake.

Oh God
. Magnus had turned a snake loose on Drake and then just vanished.

“I wasn’t interested in waiting around to find out if your brother was going to reappear with his big, fat snake in tow.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s a friendly euphemism.” Finley moved forward to take a seat at the oversized table that dominated the kitchen, her smile gentle as she added, “Or a reference to He Who Must Not Be Named. Come on. Sit down.”

Emerson smiled back, calming for the first time at the attempted humor. “It’s not. He was bitten by a snake.”

“Who was?” Finley and Grey asked in unison.

Emerson pointed at Drake, who looked surprisingly well—not to mention melt-your-self-control sexy—where he stood near the table, reaching for a banana. “Him.”

“You fucking idiot,” Grey muttered. “How the hell did you have enough energy to port the two of you over here?”

“We had to get here. It was that simple.”

“Yeah, well, the laws of physics weren’t in your favor on this one. You’re lucky you both got back in one piece.”

Drake ignored him and tossed a pointed look across the table. “Ms. McCrae’s still here, Grey?”

Finley’s avid gaze took in all of them and Emerson heard Drake’s subtext loud and clear:
Should we be talking about this in front of her?

“Yes, and if I have anything to say about it she’s not going anywhere.”

“And if I have any say in it, I am,” Finley shot back.

Although still shaken by her brother, Emerson couldn’t deny her interest in what she and Drake had interrupted in the kitchen. It was obvious Grey was deeply conflicted about what the woman was doing there. And equally obvious that he didn’t want to let her leave.

Finley spoke first. “Look. Something’s going on in here and I’ve no doubt it defies the laws of nature and pretty much everything else my rational, lawyerly
brain has believed in my first thirty years of life. So what I’m asking is if one of you will take pity on me and tell me what the fuck that is.”