Tarek was not only going to keep me, but he was going to try to win Logan’s woman. I fell
against the door and slid to my knees, staring at a windowless room with pumpkin walls. A large
canopy bed made of wood sat against the wall with oval mirrors on either side.
The necklace not only blocked my Mage abilities, it also prevented me from visiting the Grey
Veil—the in-between realm where I could speak with Justus. Then again, what could I tell him that
wouldn’t land me in hot water with Tarek?
My fingers clawed at the silver chain and I cursed. Tarek should have conceded defeat, or at
least realized that his efforts with me weren’t worth the trouble. I had gone over this a million
times with Christian, and this outcome had not been expected.
If only I could speak with Simon.
The door swung open without warning and I backed into the corner of the room. Tarek turned
the lock and threw his black jacket over a beige chair.
“What do you think of your boyfriend now?” he seethed, coming at me like a hurricane out of
control.
My heart leapt when Tarek threw me onto the bed. He snatched the end of my long dress and
ripped it all the way up to my waist. Hearing the fabric tear brought back a memory I had long
tried to bury, one that made my mouth dry and caused me to fight harder. One that had never
played out in its entirety, but still gave me nightmares.
I kicked out my legs and Tarek descended over me, slapping my face until I was temporarily
stunned. I punched my fist and clocked him good in the eye and then got him again in the jaw
before he nearly knocked me out.
The moment I felt a tug at my panties, he froze.
“What the f—”
Dizzy and nauseous, I ignored the sting on my cheek and realized what he was looking at.
“Do you like it?” I smiled and laughed silently.
Tarek rose from the bed, immovable for what seemed like an eternity.
His eyes locked on to a tattoo of two cheetah paws that were inked just beneath my panty line.
Being that I mostly wore boy shorts, that would be a little higher than most women’s panty lines.
An indelible mark that not only staked my claim on Logan, but served as a reminder to Tarek that I
would never be his.
Paul was one of the best tattoo artists in the city, and instead of a solid black design, it was
detailed with dark edges. Inside the left paw was the letter L, and inside the other was a C, but
not inked. The shading was carefully done around it so the letters stood out as my skin tone.
The more Logan Cross slipped through my fingers, the more I wanted to hold on to him.
Through all my indecisiveness, it wasn’t until I had lost him that I knew without a doubt that I
loved him.
The liquid fire had burned like hell and Christian had been forced to hold Finn back from
attacking Paul. In the end, the pain of the tattoo hadn’t hurt near as bad as the pain in my heart.
I shut my eyes, waiting for the next moment to come. One that would either seal my fate or
dismiss it. As it turned out, it was dismissed.
Tarek pivoted around and stalked out of the room.
***
“Check the surveillance footage,” Justus ordered. “There are four cameras set up and I want
everything analyzed.” He slid the lock shut on Page’s front door. He’d already gone through the
apartment four times from top to bottom, but came up with nothing to explain her disappearance.
Abduction was more like it. Justus had arrived, dressed in his finest suit, hoping she would be
available to escort to the party. Instead, he found her front door ajar, the kitchen chair turned
over, shards of glass all over the floor, and everything inside him shifted to something dark.
One of his HALO brothers was a Sensor and stopped by as a favor to confirm that from the
residual emotions, there was a confrontation, but not as much fear as he would have expected.
She must have opened the door to him as the alarm had been disabled. Leo didn’t recognize the
scent and said the trail cut off at Twenty-Second Street and Marsh.
Simon dropped a large bag on the table. “It’ll take a minute to load and transfer the data over.
How far back you want to go? Twenty-four hours?”
“Minimum,” Justus said. “Dust the doors and everything in the kitchen.”
Simon didn’t just have the equipment to dust for fingerprints—he had the technology to
compare the prints in any human or Breed database.
“Who do you think did it?” Simon asked. “What kind of manky bastard would mess around with
a Relic? They’re healers, for Christ’s sake.”
“I want to know everything about Slater, starting with where he lives.”
Justus hadn’t stopped pacing since he arrived over an hour ago. They searched the building
and reviewed the messages on her answering machine. Simon thumbed through her appointment
book and suggested a client could be the culprit.
“Sit down, mate. You’re going to end up touching everything in this whole bleeding house and
make my job a nightmare.” The long chain on Simon’s black jeans clinked from his seated position
on the floor in front of the television.
Justus went into the kitchen and sat down, scrubbing his hands across his bristly scalp. He
stared at a broken cup on the floor and then glanced up at the mistletoe hanging above her
doorway. When his phone vibrated, he quickly yanked it out of his pocket. Christian had left him a
text message.
Had he been a worthy Ghuardian, he would have gone to the event to celebrate the new life of
his Learner. Silver would soon be leaving his care, and Justus hadn’t sat down to decide how he
felt about it. Taking her under his wing in the beginning was one of moral responsibility, but over
the course of the past year, he had grown fond of things he hadn’t expected. Not just her
progression in training, but listening to her slide down the hallway in her socks, the sound of her
laugh erupting during a movie, and even the blow-dryer late at night when he was trying to sleep.
It was having another life in his home—one to care for, one to guard, and one to mentor. Now he
would be alone again.
Justus could not overlook that Tarek had attempted to end her life. He’d almost watched her
die in his arms. Their world was different from the human one, and with their extended lifetimes,
men changed. Even Logan had earned himself the right to be trusted, all things considered.
No matter how much Silver tried smoothing it over, Justus still wanted to wrap his large hands
around Tarek’s neck and squeeze until there was no more breath.
He sent Christian a vague message of an emergency that would prevent him from attending.
“Justus! Take a look at this,” Simon shouted.
He shot out of his chair and walked in front of the TV where Simon sat, watching the images
play out like a silent movie.
A figure in a dark jacket spoke with a woman outside the building. He helped with her paper
bag and slipped through the main door. The next shot was in the elevator. The hood on his jacket
obscured his face. The next angle was in the hallway, and he slowly walked down the hall until he
reached Page’s apartment.
Simon fast-forwarded through a thirty-minute time lapse as the man stood by the door and
occasionally paced around. He was holding his phone and sending messages, and sometimes he’d
place his ear against her door.
“Who is he calling?” Justus wondered aloud.
Simon put it on pause. “Two calls to the Relic’s house phone match up, but I haven’t tapped
into her cell phone. The number on caller ID was blocked.” Simon resumed the video and Justus
nervously folded his arms.
Page opened her front door and the man pushed himself in.
“Hit pause!” Justus roared. It was that split second moment when he wanted to stop it from
happening—as if he could stall a moment in time with a press of a button.
Simon warily looked over his shoulder as Justus blew out a controlled breath. He didn’t know if
he was ready to see what was about to unfold on the video.
“Play it,” he said in a caged voice.
Page walked backward in the kitchen, defensively holding out her right hand. There was
arguing and then… he pulled a gun on her.
When the man glanced into the living room, Justus immediately recognized the attacker.
“It’s good we got this on video, Justus. Evidence,” Simon pointed out.
Justus was too transfixed on the screen to hear a word he had said. Slater’s arm stretched all
the way out, leaving a foot of air between the gun and her chest. A few moments passed of
swaying as the two spoke calmly. Page was trying to defuse the situation. He could see it in her
relaxed face and casual body language. Smart woman.
Until she panicked. In a split second, Page dodged his aim and ran toward the door. Slater
came up from behind and threw her to the ground, pressing the barrel of the gun against her
back. A chair tipped over along with a glass that sat precariously at the edge of the table. The last
thirteen seconds of footage showed him dragging her to the door, forcing her onto her feet, and
them leaving the building side by side.
There was nothing voluntary about it, because he aimed the gun at her from beneath his coat.
“Slater’s address. Now.”
“She won’t be there, Justus. He wouldn’t be that stupid.”
Justus rose from his seat and tightened the ropes of muscle in his arms. “Find out every
doorstep where he’s ever wiped his feet. I want to know where he sleeps, who his clients are,
where he has a drink, and anyone he associates with.”
“Did you call Silver?” Simon unhooked the cables from the television to his laptop.
“I have no time to attend an engagement party,” he replied.
Simon slid his laptop onto his legs and leaned against the leather chair. “Just as well, the
sodding bastard. If you want to know where I put my invitation, it’s floating in the toilet. Tarek? Of
all the manky bastards,” Simon muttered in a low breath. “Women change their minds more than
their knickers. She must be on the rebound and he must be one hell of a sweet talker. Did Logan
sleep around? Maybe she’s doing it to piss him off, because that would do it. I don’t know why you
won’t talk about it.”
“Wrap it up, Simon. I’m heading out to Slater’s house and I want you to back me up. Collect
what you can and move to the next step. I’m paying you for your services—”
“If you ask me for a personal favor, then I’ll do it. Cause that’s what friends do, right? I don’t
need a fucking penny in my pocket to prove my loyalty.”
Simon stood up and cracked his neck, tossing a pillow angrily to the sofa and mumbling to
himself.
Justus still paid him.
Twenty minutes later, Justus arrived at Slater’s house on the east side of town. It was a small
piece-of-shit house with a door that he could easily kick in.
And did.
After tearing apart the living room, he moved to the bedroom and emptied every drawer
without a clue of what he would find. Frustration sliced into him like the edge of an axe—a tension
that abated when Simon arrived. By then, Justus had lost track of his suit jacket and tie, and the
top buttons on his shirt were missing.
Simon meticulously analyzed everything on Slater’s computer while Justus went through his
mail and personal journals. Nothing yielded any clues.
“I’ve seen all I need to see,” Simon finally declared. “We’ve been running around for the past
three hours and I need to go over some of this data before we lose time. Let me review the
footage and look for a match on the fingerprints. I’ll put the word out to a few people I know. You
should go home and get some shut-eye.”
“Not good enough!” Justus threw his energy into the television, causing an explosion. Out of
breath, he stared at the broken pieces, realizing that his actions were a clear admission of his
feelings for the Relic.
“I’m doing the best I can, but if you want to spend the night redecorating in here, then by all
means, have a go,” Simon said, waving his arm. “I’ll check if there are any street cams that might
have caught something, but on this side of town, I seriously doubt it. For pity’s sake, go home and
sleep. You’ll have a better head in the morning. And do me a favor—call Silver.”
“What for?” Justus said in a raspy voice.
“Something isn’t sitting well with me and I can’t put my finger on it. As much as I’d like to yell
her bleeding ear off, it’s none of my business who she wants to shag. She’s young and makes
mistakes, but I don’t see her shacking up with the man who tried to kill her, even if he was
working for Nero. Maybe she’s trying to get close to him to get to Nero, and if so, I don’t like that
she isn’t including us in her plans. I’ve taught her so well in chess that I’m no longer able to
predict her moves. If you don’t say something to her, I will,” he said, shaking his head and pacing
in circles. “Just call her.”
Chapter 22
I pounded on the bedroom door for what seemed like an hour. Tarek never came but my purse