Crave the Night: A Midnight Breed Novel (15 page)

A treasure that he was giving up today … forever.

Of course, the anonymous donor of the
Sleeping Endymion
sculpture twenty-five years ago was no mystery to him. He couldn’t deny his satisfaction—his relief—at knowing that particular treasure was in a safe place, and had been all this time.

But the terra cotta figure wasn’t the only secret he’d been keeping since he’d fled the Atlantean queen’s court.

Either one of his secrets could have gotten him killed.

The risk of discovery was too great now. He was jeopardizing all he cherished by remaining in Boston.

He’d almost chanced this visit to the museum a couple of nights ago, but he’d lost his nerve and instead skulked outside the building like a wraith. He’d barely gotten away without creating undue notice.

But he had to look upon his greatest, most precious secret one last
time—an indulgence he had been careful to avoid at all costs for nearly a quarter century.

Now he was content. He had to be, because today he was leaving for good. He could only hope that his secrets—and the treasure he cherished most of all—would be safer for his absence.

Cass had placed his trust in an ally who had proven his loyalty through years of silence and sacrifice. That trust had been reaffirmed at their meeting a couple of days ago.

Another ally—this one across the globe—one who risked as much as Cass in aiding him, had agreed to look out for Cass’s interests once he’d fled for his permanent exile.

An exile that would begin now.

Resolved, Cass pulled up his collar to shield himself from the slanting rain as he ducked down a side alley.

That’s when he noticed them—the trio of dark figures that had fallen in behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and his stomach went cold.

Atlantean soldiers.

The three immortals were disguised in pedestrian street clothes, much as he was. But their purposeful stride and menacing presence were unmistakable.

And beneath the long hem of one of their sodden trench coats, Cassian spied the glint of an Atlantean blade.

There was a time he might have turned around and faced this threat. A time when he would have fought it, even unarmed as he was now.

But today, he knew true fear.

Not for himself, but for the secrets he would die to protect.

Cass took off running, leading the legion guards as far away from the museum as he could, calling upon every ounce of his preternatural agility and speed.

The queen’s men were close behind him—too close. They zigged and zagged as he did, never losing sight of him for a second.

In minutes, Cass and his pursuers were in the city’s old North End. He hadn’t intended it, but his feet had carried him to the only home he’d truly known since coming to Boston.

La Notte was just ahead. Through the rain, Cass saw the back entrance of the club a few hundred yards in front of him.

The Atlantean guards had split up at some point.

Cassian lost track of one of them.

He didn’t see the assassin until it was too late.

The soldier from Selene’s royal court appeared out of nowhere, standing in front of him, long blade gleaming.

I’m dead
, Cassian realized.
It was over now
.

He knew it, even before he felt the ice-cold kiss of Atlantean steel biting into the side of his neck.

“A toast,” Carys said, raising a glass of red wine across the table from Jordana at one of their favorite Italian restaurants in the city’s old North End. “To the exhibit grand opening. I know it’s going to be a huge success.”

“I hope so.” Jordana sighed and clinked her glass against her friend’s. “Did you check to make sure the placard on the French tapestry was corrected? And now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have moved that display of Roman pottery from where we had it for the patrons’ reception. Do you think it should go back to its original place?”

Carys grinned and rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect, Jordana, all of it. You thought of everything. The exhibit couldn’t possibly be in better hands.”

“Thanks.” Jordana smiled at the compliment, but she couldn’t help being reminded of her odd visitor, Mr. Cassian, and the fact that he’d said something very similar to her.

Carys gave her a quizzical look. “Did I say something funny?”

“No, it’s just …” Jordana shook her head. “A man came in to view the exhibit this afternoon.”

Carys frowned. “Someone you know?”

“No, I’d never seen him before. He apparently just wandered in from the street.”

“But the exhibit doesn’t open to the public until tomorrow night,” Carys pointed out.

“That’s what I told him.” Jordana took a sip of her wine. “He didn’t seem bothered that we weren’t officially open yet.”

“Weird,” Carys said, twisting some pasta onto her fork. “What did he want?”

Jordana shrugged. “I suppose he wanted to look at the art. That’s what he said, anyway. We talked for a while about Italian sculptors and compared some of the pieces in the collection, then he left.”

Carys eyed her over the rim of her wineglass. “Like I said, weird.”

“He was … nice,” Jordana said, taking a bite of her scampi as she thought about the man and the short time she spent with him in the exhibit.

He was a stranger, a peculiar one at that, and yet she’d felt almost instantly at ease around him. Despite his oddness and his uninvited presence in the museum, she had felt comfortable with him; safe, in some indefinable way. And she would have enjoyed talking with him a bit longer, had he not left the museum without explanation as soon as she turned her back.

Vanished, more like it.

Maybe Carys was right, there
was
something weird about the man.

Jordana’s musing was interrupted when her friend’s comm unit pulsed on the edge of the table with an incoming call.

“It’s Aric.” There was a note of bitterness in Carys’s voice as she spoke her brother’s name. Her fingers hovered over the device for less than a second before she drew her hand back onto her lap with a shallow sigh. The comm unit buzzed again, but Carys remained still, her mouth pressed into a flat line.

Jordana studied her across the small table. “You can’t shut him out forever, Car.” The Chase siblings hadn’t spoken since their heated confrontation over Rune the other night, and Jordana knew it was killing Carys to have a wall standing between her and her twin.

The device vibrated again, and with reluctance written all over her face, Carys finally picked it up. Before she even had the chance to utter a word of greeting, Aric’s deep voice came over the receiver. “Carys, where the hell are you right now?”

“Hello to you too, brother dear.”

His response was clipped and dark. “Are you at La Notte?”

“Since when do I have to answer to you, Aric?” Amber light sparked in the Breed female’s blue eyes. “Where I am is no business of yours. I thought I made that clear to you.”

“Dammit, Carys! I’m not playing a fucking game here,” he snarled, and suddenly it was obvious that Aric’s demanding tone wasn’t about anger but something more visceral. Something more urgent than that. He was calling out of fear and worry for his sibling. “Carys, tell me you’re nowhere near that goddamn place right now.”

Carys’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “What’s going on?”

Jordana could no longer hear Aric on the other end, but judging from his sister’s stricken expression, the news wasn’t good. Carys inhaled a sharp breath, her fingers coming up to her mouth for an instant before relief flooded back into her features. She listened for a moment, her face grim, then she quietly ended the call.

She glanced across the table at Jordana. “There’s been a killing at La Notte.”

“Oh, no,” Jordana murmured. “But it wasn’t—”

“No.” Carys shook her head. “Not Rune, thank God. Aric said it wasn’t any of the fighters, but he didn’t have any more information than that. Some of the warriors are heading there now to investigate. Aric told me to stay away from the club tonight.”

And yet Carys was already pulling out cash enough for the bill and a generous tip from her pocketbook. “I have to see Rune,” she explained as she got up. “I just need to see for myself that he’s okay.”

The depth of Carys’s love for the fighter was evident in her eyes. So was her fear. The strong Breed female trembled where she stood, visibly shaken by the news of a death at the place where her lover risked his life every night in the cages.

And while Jordana had no wish to be anywhere near the Order if it meant she might run into Nathan, she wasn’t about to let her friend go there alone.

“Come on,” Jordana said. “I’ll drive.”

Carys managed a faint nod and followed Jordana out to her car.

They made the short trek across town, arriving at La Notte’s block in mere minutes. The club was closed, the arched wooden doors of the old church building barred.

A pair of immense bouncers was parked at the top of the steps leading up to the place, standing shoulder to shoulder in the dark beneath the thin lamplight at the front entrance. As the club’s usual stream of patrons arrived to party upstairs or do other, less savory things in the lower level, the two bouncers turned them away on arrival.

“Drive past and turn down the side alley,” Carys instructed Jordana as she slowed outside the club.

They rounded the corner and found the alleyway access blocked by one of the Order’s huge, unmarked black patrol vehicles. Carys hopped out of the car the instant Jordana brought it to a full stop. Jordana followed her, only to be halted along with Carys by one of Nathan’s team.

“Out of my way, Jax,” Carys said as the pantherlike Asian vampire moved out of the shadows to intercept the women.

“Captain said no civilians, Carys. We’ve got a crime scene back there.”

“I know. Aric called me. I just want to see Rune.”

Jax gave a shake of his dark head. “He’s around back with some of the other club staff, but you ladies are gonna have to stay out here for now. Trust me, you don’t wanna see—”

“I’m going back there.” Carys shoved past the warrior, breaking into a bolt before he was able to react.

Jordana followed her, jogging to keep up as her friend rushed around to the rear of the building. Rune may not have been injured here tonight, but it was obvious there was no one, not Carys’s brother or any of the Order itself, who could keep the female away from the fighter she loved.

“Rune!” Carys called to the dark-haired Breed male as she and Jordana rounded the back of the club. Standing among a few of the other fighters and La Notte staff gathered in the gloom behind the old brick church building, Rune glanced up at Carys’s shout.

His hard face was grave, his eyes shadowed and grim as he broke away from his colleagues to meet her as she and Jordana approached. Carys launched herself into his arms.

“Rune, I was so worried! Aric called and told me someone died at the club. Even though he said it wasn’t you, I had to see for myself. I had to be sure—”

“Shh,” the brutal fighter soothed, stroking his broad palm over the back of Carys’s head as she clung to him. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.”

While the couple embraced, sharing private words of comfort and affection, Jordana drifted away from them. Although she’d never been to a crime scene before, and didn’t want to be at one now, she found herself drawn toward the dark stretch of pavement where the apparent victim lay, surrounded by the team of warriors from the Order.

Her heels ticked hollowly on the asphalt, an odd sense of dread snaking around her with every careful step. Death hung in the air, cold and cloying. It lifted goose bumps on her arms, put a chill knot behind her sternum.

Although she didn’t want to look—didn’t want to know what kind of violent end someone had met with a short while ago—Jordana couldn’t keep her gaze from peering between the warriors at the slain individual on the ground.

She caught a glimpse of baggy, worn denim on the skewed legs of the victim. The brown loafers on the man’s feet were scuffed and aged … familiar.

Oh, no. It couldn’t be …

She was holding her breath. She knew that even before the ache in her starving lungs forced her to suck in air.

Even before she saw all the blood on the asphalt, and the object lying next to the body. An object that looked unmistakably like the dead man’s—

Before her horrified mind could confirm what her eyes were seeing, a deep voice was at her ear. “Holy hell.” A pair of strong arms swept her away from the scene, a firm hand holding her head against a rock-solid chest covered in black combat fatigues. “Jesus Christ, Jordana. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Nathan’s words were rough and dark, but his hands were warm and gentle on her as he held her close, keeping her face averted from the carnage. She didn’t want to acknowledge how welcome his touch was in that moment. She meant nothing to him, so feeling his comfort now only added a deeper sting to the shock she was feeling.

She pulled out of his hold on a ragged cry. “It’s him,” she murmured. “I know him.”

Nathan’s black brows crashed together over his stormy eyes. “Who?”

Jordana gestured in the general direction of the victim, too stricken to look again. “That man. I was just talking to him a couple of hours ago.”

Nathan’s scowl deepened. “You talked to him?” His dark voice went from concerned to demanding, almost bordering on suspicious. “You saw him today? Where, Jordana? When?”

“Jordana,” Carys said, walking over now with Rune. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you all right?”

“It’s him. The man I met in the exhibit this afternoon. He was alive earlier today and now he’s—” Jordana’s stomach lurched, choking off her words. Her chest ached with a sense of loss she could hardly reconcile for a stranger she’d known only a few minutes. “I don’t understand how this could happen. Why would anyone want to kill Mr. Cassian?”

A swift, uncertain look passed between Carys and the two Breed males. Even in her distress, Jordana noticed the change in the air.

“Mr. Cassian?” Carys asked gently. “Jordana, that man over there is Cassian Gray.”

When Jordana didn’t react, Nathan added, “La Notte’s owner. Until tonight, no one would admit to having seen the bastard or to knowing where he might be.” He slanted a dark look at Rune. “I guess the Order wasn’t alone in trying to track Cass down.”