Fury of Desire (26 page)

Denial clogged his throat. Wick shoved the emotion down deep, combating the sting. It couldn’t be true. He didn’t deserve good fortune or a female of his own. Could barely take care of himself, never mind someone else. B was wrong—was talking out his ass if he thought Wick capable of forming a lasting bond with a female. Fairy tales existed in human nursery rhymes, not in his world.

Uncomfortable with the topic, Wick broke eye contact and changed tack. “Venom tell you about what happened at Swedish Medical?”

“Not yet. Fill me in.”

With a nod, Wick laid it out, describing his encounter with Azrad in detail.

Bastian frowned. “He targeted the female to force a sit-down with me?”

“Yeah.”

“And he wants to meet at a coffee shop?”

“Pine and 1
^st
Avenue. Midnight tomorrow,” Wick growled, replaying the encounter, seeing the wheelchair whirling down the corridor. The fear on Jamison’s face came next, coalescing into vivid imagery, making his heart pound, pissing him off. His nostrils flared. The bastard. Azrad might not smell like a rogue, but he sure as hell acted like one… disregarding a female’s safety to achieve his own end. For that alone Wick would tear him apart the next time he saw the male. “He hurt her, B. Had her by the throat.”

“And what?” Green eyes knowing, his commander eyeballed him. “Now you want him dead?”

“It’s my right.”

“No argument. But I’m curious now, so…” Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, Bastian sighed. “We talk to him first. I want to know the
why
before you take him out. Agreed?”

“Deal,” Wick murmured, relief grabbing him by the balls.

Rogue or not, Bastian had sanctioned the hit. So… yeah. He’d get his shot at the tatted bastard. Would get all the time he needed to go to work on the male. Make it painful. Rip Azrad apart scale by scale, without any interference from the Nightfury commander. Nothing better than that, especially if—

“Hey, B?” Swiveling in his chair, Sloan glanced in their direction. “We’re all set.”

“On-screen.” Thumping Wick on the shoulder, Bastian pushed away from the wall and grabbed one end of the cedar conference table. Wood legs bumping across the polished concrete floor, he dragged it into the middle of the room. The tug ’n tow put his brothers in gear. As they stepped to, snagging the leather chairs, resetting the seating arrangement, the screen in front of Sloan flickered. “Everybody take a seat.”

Multiple chair legs scraped across the floor.

Grabbing a seat back, Wick sat in his usual spot along one side of the table. As Venom set up shop next to him, an image flared on the monitor, putting Gage and Haider up front and center. Wick’s mouth curved. Shit, it was good to see the pair. Especially Gage. He missed both males’ presence in the lair, sure, but the warrior with the intense
bronze gaze—and an attitude full of fuck you—was his favorite of the two. Vicious to the point of self-destruction, Gage never backed down or said quit.

His kind of male.

Haider, on the other hand, was harder to figure out. A silver dragon, the male epitomized the stereotype of his subset—and not just because he looked the part with his mercury eyes and black, gray, and silver-streaked hair. Talented in the art of deductive reasoning, his IQ landed in the upper echelon of intelligent. Toss in his ability to keep secrets, a lethal amount of charm, and the fact Haider wielded both like a weapon, and… yeah. He was the perfect diplomat, a male equal to any task and able to ferret out information no one wanted him to know.

A useful skill. One Haider used to effect.

Good thing too, considering the pair were ass-planted in Prague, playing nice at the Archguard festival. All an act, of course. Bastian didn’t care about keeping the members of the high council happy. The trip—under the guise of honoring the traditions of their kind—was more of a fact-finding mission. One Wick could get behind without hesitation. He liked the subterfuge. It suited his nature, if not his temperament, and as he settled in, he hoped the Metallics had hit pay dirt.

Accurate intel, after all, equaled opportunity. Opportunity opened up possibility. And possibility? Well now, that created a myriad of options. One that might achieve what the entire Nightfury pack wanted done. Namely, a clear break from the Archguard and Rodin’s toxic hold on their kind.

Taking his seat at the head of the table, Bastian greeted the Metallics.

“Fuck me.” Leaning forward in his chair, Gage brought his face closer to the camera. Bronze gaze roaming around the crowded table, he zeroed in on Angela. “Since when do we invite females to our meetings?”

“Since now.” The last to join the party, Rikar’s mate pulled up a chair. Ex-SPD with an incredible nose for investigation, Angela threw a file folder onto the tabletop. As the paper slapped down, she glared at Gage. The look sent a clear message—smarten up or get your ass kicked… by a girl. “Cut the crap, Gage, and get with the program.”

An amused gleam in his eyes, Haider snorted.

Shifting focus, Gage grinned at Rikar. “I like her.”

“Me too.” Returning the male’s smile, Rikar reached out and cupped her hand. “She’s a keeper.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Screw off… both of you.”

With a laugh, B tipped his chin in her direction. “Ange, you start. Whatcha got?”

“It’s a little thin, but I think I’ve got a lead.” Untangling her fingers from Rikar’s, she opened the red folder. Inside sat three sheets of foolscap laminated in plastic. Shredded by the Razorbacks and left inside one of their abandoned lairs, the info had led Angela down a rabbit hole, one they all hoped would end at Ivar the Asshole. “These are just a couple of the shredded documents I’ve put back together, but they’re the most promising.”

Forge snagged one of the pages. “Why is that, lass?”

“It’s a list of inventory for a club of some kind.”

“A nightclub?” Venom asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “Too soon to tell. There’s no name on the documents to point us to any one establishment, but there’s a definite money trail. A history and pattern to follow. Sloan’s set me up with a computer.” Glancing Sloan’s
way, she smiled at their resident computer genius. “He’s teaching me how to hack the system too. With a little luck, I might be able to find the distributor. If I can match their accounts payable to the quantities of alcohol the club ordered, along with the corresponding dates, I may be able to pinpoint the place. It’ll take—”

“Fucking forever,” Mac said, interrupting his best friend and former SPD partner. She scowled at him. He backed off. “But it’s worth a shot.”

“Myst and Tania are helping me sort through the other boxes.” Tapping her fingertip against the tabletop, she shuffled in her seat… as though she couldn’t wait to get started. “It’ll go faster than you think with the three of us working at it.”

“Jamison will want to help too.”

The second Wick opened his mouth, he regretted it. Particularly since all eyes snapped in his direction. Surprise winged across each warrior’s face. Wick hid a grimace, berating himself for abandoning his usual silence, but… God. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t forget that she lay just down the hall—one right turn and seventy-three paces away—never mind squash the urge to go check on her. And frankly? Including her in the mix seemed, well… halfway natural.

Wick frowned. The impulse signaled a huge problem. One that put his holy-shit meter on high alert.

“I mean… probably,” he murmured, backpedaling. “The female is Tania’s sister, after all.”

A multitude of grunts greeted his explanation.

Wick breathed out in relief. The last thing he needed was for any of his brothers to catch on. Bastian knowing about his obsession with Jamison was one thing. But the
whole pack? Jesus. What a clusterfuck that would turn out to be.

“Haider,” Rikar said, getting back on track. “Anything from your end?”

“Nian’s becoming a serious player.” Forearms planted on the desktop, Haider shifted in his office chair. “He’s spending a lot of time in Rodin’s inner circle. He’s been to at least three private parties in the last week as far as I can tell. Rumor has it he purchased an expensive female at one of them.”

“Shit.”

“No kidding, Sloan. But I’m not convinced that’s a bad thing.”

“Why?” Bastian growled. “If the fucker’s dealing in the sex trade, I’ll give Gage the green light right now.”

Gage perked up. “Fantastic. I’ve been dying to rip the prick apart since we got here.”

“I hear yah, but here’s the thing…” Holding up a piece of paper, Haider flapped it in front of the screen. “The next day, Nian purchased a first class plane ticket out of the country, so…”

Forge cursed. “He wasnae the one tae use it?”

Haider shook his head.

“Hell,” Gage grumbled, snatching the invoice out of his buddy’s hand. “Where did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I agree,” B said, sounding unhappy. “Set up the meeting with Nian. I want to talk to the bastard face-to-face. And one other thing…” Trailing off, he glanced Wick’s way. “Anything else you want to know before we break it up?”

Catching his commander’s drift, his mouth curved. Bastian was the best… no question about it. “Either of you ever heard the name Azrad?”

“No,” both males said in unison.

“Can you stir the pot?” he asked. “See what floats to the surface?”

Haider nodded. “Got any more than that for me to go on?”

“Longer-style mohawk… black hair, burgundy highlights, dark-blue eyes,” Venom said, throwing Wick a sidelong glance. “A metal head. He wears eyebrow and nose studs.”

“Tattoo on the left side of his neck,” Wick murmured, picking up the description where Venom left off. “Black web. Red spider at its center.”

Gage’s brows popped skyward “Freaky, but distinct. If there’s any info to be had, we’ll unearth it for you.”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” Bastian said. “Do what you need to, then pack it up. The instant the festival’s closing ceremony concludes I want you to get your asses home. We need you here.”

“How about that, Gage.” With a flash of teeth, Haider nudged his buddy with his elbow. “I think he misses us.”

Rikar snorted. “Yeah, about as much as an extra hole in the head.”

Bronze eyes gleaming, Gage’s mouth curved. “That can always be arranged.”

“Not unless you want to deal with me,” Angela said, a load of pissed off in her tone.

“Such a feisty female, Rikar,” Gage murmured. “Bet she keeps you in line.”

Venom laughed along with the others.

His XO growled something obscene.

Grinning like a devil, Gage rapped his knuckles against the desktop. “B, I’ll set up the meet with Nian and let you know when. We find out anything else, I’ll e-mail Sloan. Otherwise, we’ll see you on the flip side.”

One hand poised above the keyboard, Haider tapped a button, and…

Lights out.

The second the computer screen went blank, Wick pushed away from the table and stood. No time like the present to make a break for it. He’d lasted long enough. Now he needed a little peace, a lot of silence, and the space that heralded both.

Passing behind his chair, he thumped Venom on the shoulder.

Ruby-red eyes met his. “Halo or World of Warcraft?”

Wick shook his head, turning the male down. Odd, really. Most mornings, he jumped at the chance to hang out with Venom and his high-tech system. Video games allowed them both to wind down after a long night of fighting. But after the showdown in Seattle—and his bizarre reaction to Jamison—he’d had enough games for one night.

“Later.”

As Venom “uh-huhed,” he headed for the door. Almost home free. One turn and a short walk up the corridor, he’d be in front of the elevator doors. Nothing but a quick ascent from the aboveground lair. And his room. But as he left the rumble of male voices behind and stepped into the hallway, the strangest urge struck. He wanted to turn right instead of left… toward the clinic instead of away.

Such a bad idea.

Jamison was in good hands. Would no doubt be asleep for a while. She didn’t need him at her bedside. Despite his promise, experience told him she hadn’t meant what she said. She no more wanted to see him when she woke up than he wanted a boot to the balls. Her request to be close to him stemmed from desperation… from fear and uncertainty. He’d been her lifeline in a moment of crisis. Nothing more, no less. The second she became clearheaded again, she’d react to him the way other females did…

With terror-filled revulsion.

He knew it. Had lived through it time and again. Even so, the thought of her looking at him that way made his chest ache and his heart hurt. And as the pain expanded to engulf his rib cage, Wick fought the growing tide to keep his feet moving. It didn’t work. With his dragon fixated, compulsion drove the spike deep, stalling his forward progress. With a curse, Wick paused in the middle of the corridor. Bowing his head, he fisted his hands, and pivoting 180 degrees, glared at the sliding glass doors.

Son of a bitch. He couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t walk away without checking on her. One more time.

Calling himself a fool, Wick put himself in gear. Maybe all he needed was a sneak peak. Maybe a quick glimpse through the glass would do it. Or a moment parked at the end of her bed—watching her sleep… seeing her safe, sound, and at peace—would alleviate the worry. But as Wick neared the entrance into the clinic, nerves got the better of him. Unease followed, pricking the nape of his neck before slithering down his spine. Nothing about the situation rang true. His need to be near her wasn’t right. Not exactly smart either. Instinct and self-preservation existed for a
reason. He needed to exercise both, exorcise the demons that drove him in her direction, and stop thinking about her altogether.

Safer for him. A helluva lot better for her.

Too bad it was easier said than done.