Darkest Fire (12 page)
“I’m not talking about things. I’m talking about. . .I can’t love you.”
“I know, Drako.” She rested a hand on his arm and looked him in the eye. “You were honest with me from the start. I went into this knowing what to expect.”
“Then it’s good enough.” He stood, lifted his shirt, but instead of putting it back on, he wrapped it around Rin, after helping her to her feet. Then he snatched the throw they’d been lying on; gave it a good, hard shake to remove the leaves, grass, and twigs; and wrapped it around her too, leaving the lower half of her legs free so she wouldn’t trip. He took one look at her bare feet and grimaced. “Didn’t you wear shoes?”
“No. It’s okay. My feet are tough.”
He scooped her up in his arms like a gallant prince and carried her, cradled to his chest, up the stone pathway, into the house, and all the way into her bedroom.
She wouldn’t tell him how amazing it felt, having him take care of her like this. He treated her like she was delicate, fragile.
He treated her like he loved her.
She touched her earlobe as he turned away. “Drako.” When he glanced over his shoulder, she said, “Thank you for the gift. They’re lovely.”
He looked at her for a handful of tense seconds, then nodded. “You’re welcome.”
12
E
verything was in place.
verything was in place.
Sitting in a white van that would blend into the surroundings and was packed with surveillance equipment, Drako motioned to his brother and said into the microphone, ���Okay, let’s send them in. Are you sure there’s no risk of poisoning?”
Malek sat next to him, turning to face the equipment on the opposite side of the van. “The FBI’s being very tight-lipped about their investigation, but Wilkerson told me they think someone spiked some pastries at a coffee shop he frequents downtown. An agent took some donuts from his house and is sending them to the lab for testing.”
“Okay, then.” Satisfied there would be no danger of the two men becoming sick, Drako ordered them to move in.
Down the street, the two men—their stand-ins—exited a black SUV and walked into the Chimera’s abandoned headquarters, their conversation carried from hidden microphones to Drako and Malek’s headphones wirelessly.
This had to work. Drako was sure of it.
After talking with his brother, Drako had concluded that Oram had paid a visit to this place for a very different reason than he’d first thought. Oram hadn��t been looking for something; he was trying to draw them there, into a trap.
What Oram wanted, he would get.
Intentionally, to capture Oram’s attention, the men talked about the Chimera and the Black Gryffons, revealing a bit of information here and there that only a Black Gryffon would know.
Drako, hoping their enemy would fall into their trap instead, watched the video displayed on the computer screens in front of him.
“I don’t know about this.” Spinning around to face Drako, Malek scowled. “Oram’s too smart to fall for such an obvious ploy.”
“He may be smart, but he’s also highly motivated. After what happened the last time they tried to steal The Secret, he’s got a lot to prove to the rest of the Chimera. They’re going to be watching every move he makes. A guy like that isn’t going to let anyone see him fail. He’s going to want to believe we’re stupid enough to stroll in there. That’s all it takes, to give someone what they think they want.”
“Are we still talking about Oram, here?” Malek gave Drako a nudge in the rib cage.
“Yes, of course we are.” Drako pointed at the computer monitors. “Just keep watching.”
“What exactly are we expecting Oram to do? You don’t think he’s going to jump out of a corner and start shooting.”
“No, of course not. If he kills us, he won’t know where we’ve hidden The Secret. That’s what he’s after.”
“So, he’ll . . . take one of us hostage and demand a ransom?”
“That’s one possibility.”
Malek studied him with sharp eyes. “You actually sent two men in that building, knowing they may be taken hostage? I didn’t think you could do something like that—let another man put his life in jeopardy for us.”
“You’re right.” His nerves wound so tight, he could barely sit, Drako leaned forward, staring at the monitor. “I’m not happy about it. Exactly the opposite. I tried to come up with another idea, one that wouldn’t put anyone in danger, but this was the only plan I could come up with. We want to stop the Chimera, but we can’t be stupid about it. We have to protect our identities, no matter what.” He pushed his hands through his hair, the movement barely burning off some of the excess energy charging through his system. “Believe me, I’d much rather be in there, putting my ass on the line than hiding in this goddamn van.”
Malek patted Drako’s shoulder, a sign of support. His expression, once assessing, had softened. “Of all people, I can appreciate how hard this is for you.”
“Thanks.” Drako gave his brother a grateful smile over his shoulder before turning back around. “By the way, I think it’s time for you and Talen to move back home.”
“Why? I thought you wanted us to wait a month or so. Are you worried about something?”
“No, not really. Nothing specific. But with our change in strategy, I’d feel better if we were all under one roof. Until Oram’s stopped.”
“Okay. Do you want me to tell Talen or will you?”
“I’ll tell him.”
That settled, Drako sat back and watched the monitors in silence. Because he was expecting something to happen at any moment, time dragged. Minutes felt like hours, hours like days. The two men who were pretending to be him and Malek took the opportunity to do some searching of the massive building, just in case Drako was wrong about Oram’s reason for coming there a few days ago. By nightfall, they’d found nothing, and nobody had found them. No suspicious vehicles had come anywhere close either.
If Oram had cameras in the building, he was suspicious and waiting to see what would happen next, was pulling together a team to launch an attack, or wasn’t monitoring the cameras on a real-time basis.
Drako hit the button on the mic, transmitting to the ear-pieces the men inside were wearing. “Let’s call it a night. We’ll come back later.”
“Copy that,” came one response.
“Copy,” said the other.
Malek gave him a what-now look.
“We’ll give it a couple of days and come back. I think Oram’s waiting for the right time to make his move.” Drako settled himself behind the van’s steering wheel, started the vehicle, and, after his brother moved into the passenger seat, pulled the van out onto the street.
Today might not have been The Day. But Drako knew in his gut, it would come soon.
“I think I’m gonna head to the dungeon,” Malek said, clicking his seat belt into place. “I need to burn off some energy, after sitting in that cramped space so long.”
That sounded like a damn fine idea. Drako would give anything to get his mind off things. Oram.
Rin.
As Drako had sat in that stuffy van, staring at grainy video images, he’d been remembering the last time he’d seen her, touched her, tasted her. He didn’t like how much she monopolized his thoughts. Images of her smile, her eyes, her body, played through his mind all day, all night. He wasn’t ready to admit this to anyone, but she genuinely captivated him.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Malek said, breaking the silence between them.
“I always am.” Drako flipped on the turn signal and checked the rearview mirror, watching for vehicles tailing him as he turned right. No cars turned. But unwilling to take the risk, he made several more turns before heading to the storage unit where the van would be kept until they needed it again.
“Sure, but you’re quieter than usual. And you haven’t said anything about your wife. Not a word. How are you two getting along?”
“Fine.” Drako stole a glance at his brother, and realizing Malek was worried not about his oldest brother’s marriage but his own upcoming nuptials, Drako gave Malek’s shoulder a thump with his fist. “It isn’t as bad as I thought. You’ve just gotta pick your wife carefully. Be upfront, honest. Don’t make her think it’s going to be a fairy tale.”
Malek nodded. “Thanks.”
“Sure.”
After Drako parked the van and locked it up, the brothers each got into their cars and gave each other a parting wave. From the direction Malek had driven, Drako assumed Malek was headed to his favorite dungeon, a twenty-minute drive north from there. He opted for another one, a fifteen-minute drive west, and closer to home.
He didn’t lease a private suite at Black Orchid. He’d have to scene in the main dungeon, but that didn’t bother him. He’d done that plenty, and tonight he wasn’t in the mood for intimacy anyway. Submissives weren’t generally jealous or possessive, at least not his regulars, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t drama occasionally.
If he wasn’t in the mood for intimacy, he was in even less of a mood for drama.
Maybe he’d find a new submissive, a stranger who knew nothing about him and had absolutely no expectations outside of one scene and a little aftercare.
By the time he’d pulled up to Black Orchid’s valet entry, his mind was made up. He’d find a submissive who knew her limits—not a newbie—but wanted to test them.
It took him almost an hour to find her.
He’d noticed her right away, the minute he’d stepped into the dungeon. But he didn’t approach her right away. Physically, she was the exact opposite of his wife. Rin was petite and delicate, with midnight hair that flashed blue in certain light. And her eyes were a deep brown, warm and comforting. The submissive’s hair was a cool blond shade and her eyes gray. She was tall with heavy breasts and full hips and long legs.
He knew she’d seen him too. Their gazes met as he’d strolled past her, heading toward the rear of the open space where a scene that intrigued him was playing out. He paused for a moment, and something interesting passed between them. Her lips, painted a brilliant red that would have looked gaudy on most women, curled into a shy smile.
Very good. Not too timid, and not too pushy.
The scene he’d wanted to watch was growing more intense. A domme was flogging her male submissive, legs and arms bound to a free-standing Saint Andrew’s Cross. From his breathing, visible to Drako’s eye, trembling and taut muscles, Drako sensed the male submissive was close to breaking. It was a powerful moment, one Drako loved to witness, when he wasn’t busy with a submissive of his own.
The blonde would wait for him. He was sure of it.
He went around to the back of the cross so he could see the male submissive’s face. The man’s expression, as the domme’s leather whip struck him again, was one of absolute ecstasy.
Drako couldn’t budge, he was so fascinated by the submissive’s response. To surrender everything like that, to let it all go, it had to be wonderful, beyond his full understanding.
Drako didn’t move from that place. He didn’t look away, didn’t think about anything or anyone until the final stroke of the lash. Only then could he pull himself away to go look for the blonde with the cool gray eyes.
She’d moved while he’d been watching that scene, but she hadn’t gone far. In fact, she’d stayed where he could see her, and she could see him. He guessed she’d been studying him the whole time he’d been watching the scene. That pleased him.
So did the barely perceptible tip of her head she gave him when their eyes met again.
She was wearing a short dress that showed off her legs. The material, soft rose, almost but not quite transparent, moved as she shifted her weight from one hip to the other. The garment’s movement drew his eyes to her pelvis. She was wearing underwear. Black, he guessed, from the deep shadow there.
She curled her fingers around the hem and lifted it a couple of inches. Not all the way. Just high enough for him to get a glance at the vee of black lace covering her mound.
This woman knew what power she wielded, and she used it well.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the type of submissive he was in the frame of mind to deal with tonight. He didn’t want a battle over power. He wanted a submissive—male or female, gender made little difference when sex wasn’t involved—who would eagerly serve him.
A little less enthusiastic than he had been a few moments earlier, he went to her, caged her head between his outstretched arms.
“Hello,” she said, that temptress smile in place.
He inhaled her scent. It was nice, but he didn’t care for citrusy perfumes, like the one she wore. He much preferred jasmine. “Are you really a submissive, or do you just like to pretend to be one?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her smile didn’t waver. Nor did her gaze. She licked her lips. “Are you really a dom or do you just pretend to be one?”
“What do you think?”
“I think if you’re dominant, I’ll be submissive. But if you’re not . . .” She shrugged, letting the rest of her sentence trail off.
Didn’t matter. He knew what she meant. There were the doms and dommes who played the role and then there were the ones who were dominant to their core. In their marrow. The latter were the ones a submissive could truly trust. Especially a submissive like this.
He was standing so close to this attractive woman he could practically taste her scent on the air. She was saying all the right things. Normally, he’d be charged up to take her to the edge of her limits.
But not tonight. He just wasn’t feeling it. And even though it shouldn’t, it pissed him off.
Muttering, “Maybe another time,” he turned around and headed for the door. There wasn’t any reason for him to be here. It wasn’t happening.
He tried not to think about the reason why his blood remained cold as he stopped at the valet’s station to get his car.
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