Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso (22 page)

They came to another set of stairs, but this one went up instead of out. Selena paused, trying to decide where Owen was taking her. He hadn’t actually said he would show her out. He’d just demanded she follow along like an errant puppy.

He didn’t even bother to look back at her. “Either walk or I’ll carry you.”

“Uh-uh, no way. I want out, not up.” She crossed her arms and pasted her best don’t-fuck-with-me expression in place.

Owen heaved a giant sigh and descended the four steps he’d already climbed. Selena scuttled back, expecting him to start heading toward the front doors. Surely the guy had a key. He was the door troll, right?

She yelped as he lifted her right off her feet. Her belly hit his shoulder with a thud, and her dress flew up to expose her naked ass cheeks.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re not wearing underpants? What kind of skank runs around in a dress like that with no panties?”

“The kind that had them stolen by an unknown person sometime in the last sixteen hours. For all I know, you’re the one who stole them.” She made a
pfft!
noise as she tried to spit her hair out of her mouth. The braid Demon had plaited was long gone, and the tangled strands were hanging practically all the way to Owen’s ass.

“As if! Don’t friggin’ move. Got it?” He started to climb the stairs. “I don’t want to get busted for accidentally touching you.”

She noted that he was indeed being very careful to keep his hands away from her crotch though he’d been nice enough to pull her dress back over her butt. “This is ridiculous,
Owen
. Last night you wouldn’t let me in, and now you won’t let me out? What the hell?”

He snorted. “If I let you leave without Malachi’s say-so, I’ll be lucky to only lose my job.”

They’d reached the top of the stairs. She could see a little of the flat stone beneath Owen’s boots. His muscular shoulder was starting to cut into her belly below her ribs. “You keep saying Malachi. What about Demon?”

“Malachi’s my boss. He runs the club. I consider it a blessing that I don’t have to worry about pissing Demon off. Malachi’s a hard-ass, but Demon is scary as shit when someone crosses him.” His hold on her legs grew a fraction tighter. “If you’re playing with both of them, you must be suicidal.”

She thought of Demon’s stone-cold expression and what had lain just beneath it. She’d been lucky enough to have just one opportunity to thread her fingers through that silken hair and gaze into his face. She had no doubt the man could be scary. His aura was fierce, but there was nothing on earth that could convince her he meant to harm her or Malachi. Ever.

“Son of a bitch, they’re
arguing
?” Owen growled. “Does Malachi have a death wish? What the fuck is going on around here?”

At first she didn’t understand what he was muttering about. With all the blood rushing to her head, it was difficult to hear anything over the roaring in her ears. As Owen’s strides grew longer and more energetic, she became aware of two male voices. They sounded as loud and angry as they did familiar.

Owen bucked his shoulder to deposit her back on her feet, and Selena nearly swooned as the combination of weightlessness and the blood draining from her face screwed with her equilibrium. She reached out and grabbed her jailer’s arm for support.

“Do not puke.” He pulled his arm away as he stepped back. “I don’t want it on my boots.”

Her rising ire helped counteract the wooziness. “I hope your mother loved you, because I’m pretty sure that’s the only woman who ever will.”

“I never knew my mother. She played whore to a guy from the Narragansett nation, and here I am.” His sneer held a lifetime’s worth of pain and derision. “At least you can call me a bastard and know it’s true.”

“Owen…”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, choosing instead to shove open a thick door. Without the wood barrier, the raised voices thundered down the open corridor above the dance floor.

“You got a minute, Malachi?” Owen asked.

“I’m a little busy, Owen,” Malachi said in a bizarrely normal tone.

Owen pushed the rest of the way into the office, and Selena angled her body to peek around his bulk. What she saw made her heart leap into her throat. The room looked like an office of sorts. Malachi lay flat on a thick Persian rug. Demon had him pinned to the floor.

“Hey, it’s no problem. I thought I’d remind the two of you there’s not much time before that private party shows up.” Owen leaned one broad shoulder against the door frame. “I’ll just take her downstairs and shove her pantyless ass out the front door. Maybe by the time I’ve kicked her to the curb, the two of you will be ready to talk business.”

“Her who?” Demon asked.

Selena gasped in indignation and elbowed Owen hard as she pushed her way past. She glared up at the door troll. “I almost thought you were human. Won’t make
that
mistake again!”

Malachi frowned. “She was trying to leave? Why?”

Owen made a face, obviously unfazed by her insult to his humanity. “I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss it if the two of you are done beating the shit out of each other.”

In one smooth motion, Demon stood. “Selena, come here.”

What she should have done was turn and walk away. It wasn’t possible. As soon as her brain processed the order, her body wanted to comply. There was still a tiny traitorous part of her that wished she could be part of their lives. As if there were some
Alice in Wonderland
potion she could take that would render her experienced and worldly enough to leave her vanilla life behind and take up residence in theirs.

I’m a silly, silly twit.

Owen stepped aside, and that seemed to be all it took. She walked into the office and placed herself before Demon with her eyes downcast so he couldn’t see the foolish yearning she was certain they held.

Though he didn’t stand, Malachi rolled to a sitting position, drew his knees up, and wrapped his arms around them. He didn’t look any worse for wear.

“Boss?” Owen gazed pointedly at Malachi. “Incoming guests, remember? The Donner party will start arriving in an hour. The human-food-platter chicks are already here.”

“
Nyotaimori
.” Malachi shook his head and shot Owen a look of exasperation.

Owen snorted. “Whatever. They’re still chicks that stick food on their bodies and let people eat it off. I don’t know who’s nastier, the platter or the eater.”

Selena had to agree with Owen on that one. Apparently Triptych provided a venue for just about anything that didn’t fly in the mainstream. The city of Boston had moved to shut down
nyotaimori
parties based on sanitation concerns. Regardless, the whole conversation seemed to have taken a rather bizarre turn.

Malachi sighed. “Trace should have already set up the West Hall. The caterer will be at the service door in thirty minutes. If you could let them in, I’d appreciate it.”

“Consider it done. Now you all can get back to—whatever. Not that I know or care. No judgment here.” Owen gave Malachi a nod of respect and then turned and walked away. He’d said earlier he didn’t want anything to do with Demon. Apparently his strategy was to pretend the dominating presence in the room didn’t even exist.

“Look at me, Selena,” Demon ordered.

She swallowed hard. Denying him wouldn’t help anything, so she peeked up at his face. She had expected anger or irritation. Even indifference would have made sense. What took her breath away was the arctic cold in his eyes.

“Why were you leaving?” he asked.

“You were both gone. I thought…” Most of her thoughts were too pathetic to say out loud. “I thought you were done with me.”

“Do you want us to be done?” His expression hardened even further, the sight creating a physical ache inside her.

She could feel Malachi’s slate-gray stare boring holes in her, though she dared not look away from Demon to meet it. It was the definition of that awkward moment when you’re tempted to lay all your insecurities on the line in order to keep a lover that might not want you anymore—or in her case, two lovers.

“Selena, I need to know.”

Fear made her sweat. Her gaze darted around the room as she agonized over her answer. A photo of a little girl dressed in a pink tutu sat on the bookshelf. Allie. There was so much more to this story than her desires. Why hadn’t she seen it? These two men were in an epic struggle with a dominating bitch for control over a thirteen-year-old girl’s future. They’d been lovers for over a decade. She had been Allie’s age when these two had begun their relationship. What could she possibly bring to the table to make her an equal? She had nothing.

I am nothing.

The utter desolation made her breathing ragged. Her pulse pounded in her neck until she was certain Demon’s sharp black eyes would see it fluttering beneath her skin.

“Selena?” he whispered.

“Our one night is over, and I’ve got a life to get back to.”

Chapter Twenty

Half of Demon’s world collapsed with her statement. Behind her slender form he could see Malachi’s face turn ashen as if he’d just been gut punched. Of all the scenarios they’d been arguing about today, this one had never entered their minds.

He was glad to see his hands were not shaking when he pulled out his phone in order to send a text. “Go out of this office and back down to the dance-floor level. Turn left and head for the front doors. The one all the way to the right is unlocked. There will be a cab waiting at the curb.”

She seemed to waffle a little bit. He could sense her uncertainty in the way she shifted from one foot to the other. Emotions more powerful than even he could control whipped through his system. He forced back a snarl as he put everything on lockdown.

“I…” She exhaled raggedly before standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for everything.”

The place where her lips had touched burned as she walked out of the office without so much as a glance at the man sitting on the floor. Demon felt frozen in place. He kept expecting her to return, to appear in the doorway and say she’d changed her mind.

There was silence in the office as both he and Malachi waited. The squeak and thump of Triptych’s massive front door opening and closing shattered something inside Demon. All his control, the predicting outcomes, playing the odds, and trying to keep all of them safe. None of it had prepared him for this feeling.

Malachi stood, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m going to visit Allie.”

There was a note of defiance in his voice, but Demon wasn’t going to forbid Malachi’s visit to Allie’s school as he’d done the day before. The reason for that had passed. Demon would call Lars and have Interpol dismantle Seraph’s human trafficking operation before carting her off to jail. Malachi would be free to raise his daughter without Seraph’s interference. And Demon? Demon would be lucky if all they did was ship his ass back to China on the first boat available for deportation.

Demon shifted, feeling as if he should say or do something. Not ten minutes ago they’d been sparring because he refused to allow Malachi to participate in a ridiculous and so far hypothetical sting operation against Uncle Han.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Malachi said quietly.

“No.”

The distance between them was a gulf so wide Demon wasn’t certain he would ever be able to breach it. They’d existed together for years before Selena entered their lives. Why did it feel so empty now?

“I miss her already,” Malachi admitted.

It was hard not to instantly recall the warmth of her touch and the way she’d pushed his hair back to gaze into his face. He hadn’t allowed that sort of familiarity with anyone. He and Malachi were lovers, but they were men unused to affection that went beyond the satisfaction of sex. Selena had bridged a gap between the physical and emotional that Demon hadn’t realized existed.

“I’ve always trusted you.” Malachi turned toward the door, giving Demon his back. “I’m done doing it blindly. Either communicate with me, or Allie and I are done.”

Demon didn’t speak when Malachi left the office. He didn’t have the words in English, Cantonese, or Mandarin for this kind of raw heartache.

* * * *

“Dad?”

Malachi scooped Allie into a hug and held her close. He was assaulted by a wave of emotion so intense it swept his breath away. It had been months since he’d seen her. Much too long by any standard.

“What are you doing here?” Allie asked.

Malachi glanced around the common room of her dormitory. It didn’t look much different from any of the others that had played host to their visits over the years. It was a simple ground-floor room with wide windows and a welcoming atmosphere. Outside, he could see the snow-filled courtyard. Several cozy conversation areas clustered here and there, and a fireplace gave off a steady glow against the winter chill.

He chucked his little girl under the chin and gazed at the perfect symmetry of her features. His Allie really was a beautiful girl. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve missed you?”

“You know its past visiting hours, right? Everyone is in bed.” Allie nibbled her lip. “Not that I’m not glad to see you. I just don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Relax. I talked to the headmistress, and she gave me a half hour.” Malachi gestured to a seat by the wide ground-floor windows. “Want to sit?”

“So where have you been?” She snuggled into a window seat and drew her long legs up. Her flannel pajama bottoms had little gingerbread men on them. “Dee said you’ve been tied up.”

Malachi grimaced. Demon had been making excuses for Malachi’s absence in Allie’s life far too long for his comfort. “I’ve been at the club. Business is good, and there’s a lot to do in order to keep the peace.”

Allie’s smile lit up her whole face. “I always imagine you like a general ordering his troops around a battlefield.”

“That’s not far off the mark.” He frowned, wishing there was a way to explain his job without exposing Allie to all the depravity that went on beneath the surface. “Triptych is a haven for anyone who longs for something not accepted in polite society.”

“Like you and Dee,” she whispered.