Dark Desire (25 page)

Galen stared down at the phone in his hand. It had been ringing every five minutes, and would continue to ring every five minutes until he picked it up.

His last meeting with Bryn hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He had thought he’d be able to at least get a job at the club for his efforts. Instead, he was told in no uncertain terms that if he set foot there one more time, it would be his last day on Earth.

The phone was finally silent in his palm, the screen showing he had ninety-seven missed calls from Craine and ninety-seven voice messages Galen had no desire to listen to.

Four minutes and fifty-five seconds later, the screen lit up once more. With a sigh, Galen bit the bullet and pressed the accept button, putting the call onto speaker so he could have the ass-chewing in stereo.

“Galen.” Craine barked his name, making Galen grind his teeth. Craine had turned into a goddamn guild master with his demands, and there was a reason Galen hadn’t wanted to belong to one in the first place.

“Craine—”

“I want you back here.”

Galen sank further back into the pillows propped up on the headboard. That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “When?”

“Now.” Craine hung up, and the screen went dark. Galen wondered why Craine wanted him back so soon, and the lie he told Bryn suddenly felt as if it might be true. What if he’d had enough of Galen’s fuck-ups? What if it had been a test and he’d failed miserably?

Galen stood up from the bed, pocketing his phone and snatching up the handles of his small duffel bag. Closing his eyes, he faded back to Craine’s office in Chicago. He stepped through the lobby doors and came face to face with Craine’s two henchmen.

“Gentlemen,” he drawled.

“Come with us,” Goon Two said, his tone business-like, his face completely blank.

Galen’s eyes darted to the face of the other guy. His expression was just as serious.

Fuck.

Instead of replying, Galen waited for them to turn around and lead the way over to the bank of elevators. Goon One’s chubby finger jabbed at the button impatiently. Craine must have been riding their asses while he’d been gone.

The doors opened, revealing the elevator’s mirrored walls and white marble floor, and all three of them stepped inside. While he waited for the doors to close, Galen made a decision that would no doubt raise a lot of questions.

He turned around to face the goons and waved at them before fading from sight. Rematerializing straight into Craine’s office, Galen found the man leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin, his expression almost expectant.

Craine pressed a button on a small metal box set on his desk, and there was a crackle of static before he said, “Send Rhys in.”

Galen studied Craine as they waited for his best friend. The sleeves of his crisp, white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone. Galen had never seen the mob boss without a tie before, and it looked … strange.

“What took you so long?” Craine asked in an icy tone.

Galen dropped his duffel at his feet. “I stopped to chat to your goons. They really are a couple of assholes, you know that?”

Craine remained stoic, his dark eyes reproachful. The door opened at Galen’s back then, drawing Craine’s gaze. Without turning around, Galen knew Rhys had just joined them.

“Sit. Both of you.” Galen didn’t like his tone but bit his tongue and sat down, staring at the guy. He didn’t quite know what was different about him. He seemed a whole lot more irate than usual. Rhys took the seat beside Galen, his attention on Craine also.

“Tell me about what happened to you in Boston,” Craine said.

Galen recounted the whole story, from his first meeting with Bryn to the final one, making sure to give him every single detail. Craine was nothing if not meticulous when it came to the details of his business. When Galen was done, Craine sat forward in his chair.

“Is that everything?”

Galen said, “More or less.”

“Tell me about the layout of the club.”

“From what I can tell, the club is spread over three levels. I only ever saw the lowest level—the Eye—and that’s where the office is.”

“What’s Bryn like?” Craine asked and Galen found the question odd.

“She’s stunningly beautiful, but as tough as nails. She’s independent, but she surrounds herself with … people who have her back, no matter what. She’s almost untouchable.”

Craine’s lip quirked. “So, how were you able to … touch her?”

“I have my ways of getting past hired muscle,” he replied, watching Craine’s dark eyes. He sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter how I did it, just that I did.” He spread his hands out in front of him. “I got an audience with her. I made up a story about you wanting to buy into her club. She rejected it. I tried again. I lied to get her to give me another chance, but she rejected that too. In the end, I had no other choice but to give up.”

“Why?” Craine asked, steepling his fingers again. His gaze settled on Galen’s face, his stare burrowing in under his skin.

“I like my head just fine where it is,” Galen answered with a shrug. “And I doubt she was bluffing. The guy she keeps around is a Mare, and from what I found out, he’s the last pure-blooded Mare.”

“Will he bleed if you cut him?” Craine asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“He can be killed, then,” stated Craine simply.

“Of course he can, but I’m no match for him. I doubt there would be any fucker out there who could take him on and survive.”

Galen watched the mob boss’s eyes flash green. He squeezed his own eyes shut and took a deep breath. He needed some more fucking sleep.

“There are some out there who would gladly take on the Mare,” Craine said.

“Maybe, but Boston is off-limits for you now.”

As soon as the last word was out of Galen’s mouth, Craine was out of his chair, his chest rising and falling as his nostrils flared. With his hands planted on the desk in front of him, he said, “Don’t you dare tell me where I can and cannot conduct my business.”

Galen kept his expression vacant, but on the inside a shiver of fear sliced through his body. He could see Rhys tense from the corner of his eye, every muscle in his body ready to fire into action should the threat become something more.

After a long moment, Craine sat back down again. “I want you and Rhys to go back there. I need this Mare removed from the equation.”

“You want us to kill him?” Galen asked, incredulous. Craine was asking the impossible.

“You said yourself that he bleeds. He can be killed. But if you don’t think you’re good enough to do the job, I could find someone else.”

Craine’s meaning was loud and clear: what good were they to him if they couldn’t follow orders?

Galen glanced at Rhys, his friend giving him a tight nod. They would get this done.

He looked back to Craine. “We’ll leave tonight then.”

Both Mares stood up, Galen picking up his duffel and leading the way from the room.

“Galen,” Craine called out as he reached the door. “I need to speak to you alone for a moment.”

Rhys snarled quietly under his breath, giving his friend a look that said not to do it, but Galen only shrugged. “I’ll see you at home,” he told Rhys, squeezing his shoulder.

Galen turned back around, dropping the bag and facing Craine. Rhys closed the door behind them, sealing them in the room together.

“Our business relationship is finished, Galen,” Craine said. “After this job, we’re done. Do you hear me?”

Galen wasn’t particularly surprised, nor was he particularly upset about it. Without saying a word, he scooped up his bag and turned his back on the mob boss.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Galen knew there were plenty of people around who liked the idea of having a hit man on call. Hell, maybe he’d even go and work for Craine’s competitor just to piss the bastard off.

Galen froze, his hand already on the doorhandle, when the sound of metal on metal echoed around the room. Without turning, he tried to fade from the room, but the distinctive
thwack
of silenced gunfire pushed all the air from his lungs.

A burning tore through Galen’s back, his legs falling out from beneath his body. He dropped to the floor, boneless, weightless, and the side of his face pressed into the tightly-looped pile of the carpet. The dull thud of footsteps filled Galen’s ears and he swiveled his eyes upward.

Craine stood over him, a gun in his hand. Galen tried to fade, but his body—which had felt so weightless before—now felt like lead. He couldn’t move his legs and he knew the brand-new bullet in his spine was responsible for it. The injury wasn’t life-threatening. Galen could heal the wound, but somehow he didn’t think that was going to happen this time around.

The warm muzzle of the silencer was suddenly pressed to Galen’s skull. His heart rate sped up and his mouth went dry. Craine leaned down, his warm breath feathering over Galen’s cheek. A smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth … and then there was only darkness and the sound of a bullet firing from a chamber ringing around the room.

Eir hit the end call button on her phone for what felt like the hundredth time and lay back on her bed. Every time she’d called Mason that morning, it had rung out, and the knot in her stomach tightened.

Korvain’s dismissal of Mason the night before was still weighing heavily on her mind. She had tried to talk to Mason once they’d returned to the club, but Korvain had told her he had to start his shift right away.

She’d wanted to go downstairs and speak to him herself, without worrying about having Korvain looking over her shoulder, but had decided against it. She didn’t really want to disturb him while he was working.

But it was midafternoon, and Mason should have been awake by now … so why was he screening her calls? Discouraged, she decided to do something drastic. Stripping out of her sweats, she got dressed and left the apartment, planning to sneak out the back door of the building.

She was pushing against the metal bar across the door that would take her into the alleyway when she heard his voice.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice a dark drawl. Eir spun around, her heart trying to claw its way out of her throat. She was suddenly mute, her mouth dry.

“Where are you going?” he asked again, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning against. The shadows that had been wrapped around his body drifted away, melting off and melding with the others.

“Just out,” she stammered, dropping her eyes to the floor. “For a walk.”

“I can’t let you do that, Eir. You know why.”

She kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

“Where were you really going?” Korvain asked, his voice lower than before.

Taking a risk, she answered, “To see Mason. He’s not answering my calls, but I guess I can see him tonight at the club.” Korvain’s expression changed from anger to … pity. “What’s wrong?” she asked, the knot in her stomach intensifying to the point of pain.

“Mason won’t be coming in to work tonight.”

“Why not?” she asked, afraid of the answer he was about to give.

“He quit this morning. Said he was moving to Florida or something.”

“Florida?” she squeaked. Why would he move to Florida? Maybe he had family there she didn’t know about. Maybe he just wanted to be as far away from Boston as he could without leaving the east coast. Maybe he just needed some warmer weather? She had no idea, and all the other reasons her brain was throwing up were unbearable.

“I have to go and see him.” The words popped out of her mouth before she knew it, causing Korvain’s hard eyes to hold her in place.

“I’ve already told you I can’t let you do that.”

“Then come with me,” she blurted out desperately. She knew he wouldn’t go for that idea, and after their little showdown the previous night, there was no way Mason would be happy to see Korvain either.

Korvain looked incredibly uncomfortable for a split second before his mask of indifference was back in place. “I doubt that’s a good idea.”

Eir looked around the hallway, not knowing what to say, what to do. “What about Taer? She could come with me.” Korvain seemed to think about it, but she could tell he was going to say no. She pressed on anyway. “She’d be able to protect me if something were to happen.”

The Mare’s lips thinned into a hard line. After uncountable seconds of silence, he agreed, telling Eir to go up to the apartment to get Taer. She rode the elevator up to the top floor and stepped back into the apartment.

“Hey,” Taer said when she saw her. She turned off the TV and twisted her body to face Eir standing beside the kitchen bench. “What’s happening?”

With her heart pounding in her ear, Eir said, “I need a favor.”

Taer quirked a brow. “What do you need?”

Eir didn’t know how to say what she wanted to. “Umm, I need a bodyguard.”

“A what?”

“A bodyguard,” Eir repeated. “I need to go and see Mason.”

“And you want me to be that bodyguard? What does Korvain have to say about it?”

“It was his suggestion. So, can you spare an hour so I can go and see him?”

“Are you ready to go now?” Taer asked. Eir was surprised; she’d thought Taer would be reluctant to do anything so trivial.

“Really?” Eir said.

Taer stood up and walked towards the front door, slipping her arms into a jacket that had been hanging from the back of a stool. “Sure. Why not?”

“I just … I would have thought babysitting me would have been the last thing you wanted to do today.”

Taer kept her pale eyes on Eir’s face. “You saved my life, Eir. I owe you.”

Eir gave the young Mare a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, they were standing in the alleyway behind the club. Together they faded to Mason’s apartment only to find he wasn’t there.

“Can we try one more place?” Eir asked, already walking in the direction of the only other spot she could think of that he would go. The two of them remained silent on the walk to Boston Common.

And that was where she found him, sitting alone some distance away on a park bench.

Turning to Taer, Eir said, “He’s here.”

Taer looked over Eir’s shoulder before her pale green eyes returned to her face. “Will you be all right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Taer’s eyes flickered to Mason once more. “All right.”

Eir watched Taer walk out of the park, until she was out of sight, then turned around to face Mason, heaving a sigh as she did. She had no idea what she was going to say to him. A thousand and one thoughts had run through her mind about what she
could
say to him, but now she was faced with him, the words escaped her.

Approaching the park bench cautiously, Eir was stunned by how sad he looked. What could have happened, that he would choose to quit his job and leave the state to move to Florida?

It wasn’t until she was standing right beside him that he looked up. His eyes were puffy and red like he’d been crying. Eir lowered herself into the seat beside him, her hands interlaced in her lap. She gazed at him, wishing she could do something for him, to help fix whatever was wrong.

He turned his head away, looking out at nothing in particular. Eir reached out her hand and rested it on Mason’s. She gasped at the strength and volume of his grief, but his thoughts were so muddled she couldn’t make out what was wrong.

Eir squeezed his hand and turned to look out at the park. It was a sunny afternoon, and young mothers with their children were taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather, playing with a ball on the grass or feeding the ducks.

Mason’s misery—and it really was misery—bombarded Eir, but she kept her hand wrapped tightly around his large hand, trying to bring him some comfort. She sat there, waiting for him to be ready to talk, until the sun began to set and the chill of the early winter night seeped into their bones.

Mason still hadn’t moved.

When darkness fell completely, and Eir could see each breath she took on the air, she finally spoke.

“We should get you home.”

If Mason had heard her, he showed no sign of it. But his shoulders rose and fell, his chest expanding and contracting with a deep breath.

“She’s gone,” he said softly, and Eir had to lean in to hear the words clearly.

“Who’s gone?” she asked.

Mason turned to her, fresh tears streaming down his face. His expression was pained, his lips twisting into a grimace. “Sophie.”

Eir put the words together in her head.
Gone. Sophie. Sophie was gone.

“What do you mean, gone? Did she run away?”

Mason shook his head. The movement seemed to pain him as much as the words he’d just spoken. “She’s dead.”

Dead?
“What? How?”

“I came home yesterday afternoon after dropping you off at the hospital and she was lying on the floor of my apartment, hardly moving and foaming at the mouth.”

Eir’s hand went to her mouth in shock. “I’m so sorry, Mason.”

He shrugged slightly and stood up, still not letting go of her hand. He led her out of the park and toward his apartment. The silence enveloping them was only punctuated by the steady sound of their feet on the slick pavement.

Traffic streamed by them: people returning home from work, or from picking up a few things for dinner that night. It all seemed so normal, but for Mason and Eir, it was anything but normal. Even though she had only known the man for a week or so, she knew the depth of love he’d had for Sophie.

His heart must have been aching with her loss, and she wished she could have done more for him. When they reached Mason’s apartment, he opened the front door and stood back, letting Eir walk in first. She instantly felt Sophie’s absence.

In the near darkness, she walked over to the island bench separating the kitchen and the living space and turned around, putting her back to the kitchen and facing Mason.

Without looking at her, Mason walked over to the couch and began toeing off his boots, kicking them aside haphazardly.

She followed him, padding to the couch and sinking into the cushions beside him. Pushing off her flats, she curled her legs beneath her body, and just … waited.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked five minutes later, her voice too loud in the silence.

“About what? She’s dead, and I couldn’t protect her, even though she protected me for nearly ten years.”

“This isn’t your fault, Mason. You do know that, right?”

“I couldn’t save her,” he muttered, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Just like I couldn’t save him.”

“Who, Mason?” Eir asked gently, letting her head rest on his shoulder as she took his free hand. Pain and anger filled her, but this wasn’t as fresh, nor was it as potent as before, and she realized that this was an older wound—something he had been carrying around with him for a long time.

“My brother, Hunter.”

“The one who passed away?” she asked.

“I told you he died just over ten years ago, but I didn’t tell you how.”

“And you don’t need to, Mason. You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to—especially now that …”

“Sophie’s dead?” He laughed derisively. “Believe me; talking about Hunter will be a nice distraction.”

“Mason, please—”

“You deserve to hear this, Eir. I should have told you before, and after everything that’s happened, it will make more sense to you now.”

Eir sat up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, facing Mason. “All right. If you’re ready to talk about him, I’m ready to listen.”

She was willing to wait as long as it took. Mason’s head was still tipped back, his Adam’s apple working over an invisible lump. Five minutes passed … then ten … then fifteen. Eir was ready to get up and offer him a drink when he said the words that had been weighing him down for just over a decade.

“I killed my brother.”