Heir of Ashes (The Roxanne Fosch Files #1)

Chapter 18

Two slices of toast and a cup of coffee later, Logan was tossing me around the room like a rag doll. I hit the wall and slid down, wondering why I’d agreed to this.

“Get up. You need to learn some moves,” Logan said, frowning at me.

“It’s not like I can use my talons. Any strike with them could maim. That’s why I’m not hitting back.” I pursed my lips to keep from whining.

After a moment of silence, I looked up and found Logan smiling. That killer smile again.

“What?”

“You’re pouting. You’re adorable when you pout.”

I bristled. “I am not.”

“No? It looks like it from here. It suits you.” He smiled again, and I got up.

An hour later, I was cursing. “You baited me,” I growled, my voice muffled by the carpet as Logan held both my wrists behind me.

“Damn right,” he said smugly. He was enjoying this way too much.

I bucked hard, my shoulder joint protesting, but managed to unbalance him enough to flip and kick him off me. Then I lunged for his throat, my talons extending in the blink of an eye, poised and ready for the killing blow above his jugular.

He smiled at my triumphant expression, his eyes unguarded. Then his smile vanished, replaced by his carefully reserved mask. “And what if the next time that cursed bracelet they use affects you?”

“It didn’t on the bus yesterday.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How about shackles? Their iron is enforced steel.”

“Probably breakable.”

Another eyebrow raised.

“What? I couldn’t test the theory without revealing my hand.”

“Alright, we’ll try something else,” he conceded. I got up, my face flushing with the realization that I had been sitting on his chest.

I stood up and turned, but he spun me around, trapping my hands behind my back and pressing my chest against his.

“How about this? What can you do?” he murmured, his eyes focusing on my lips before he lowered his head toward mine. Oh my God, he was going to kiss me. He paused a couple of inches away, giving me the option to back off. I didn’t.

It was one thing to be held, nuzzled, and stroked while I slept. But it was entirely different to be held and kissed, fully awake, with nothing else to do but kill time until the next day. He moved slowly, his lips close, our breaths mingling, our hearts racing together in anticipation. Then his lips touched mine—a slow, soft brush that sent an electric buzz through my entire body. My arms went around his neck, his arms around my waist, and we each pulled the other closer, and … a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.

Logan’s head snapped up, but he didn’t release me. A sudden urge to snarl at the interruption gripped me. I bit my lower lip to keep from doing so. Couldn’t it have happened an hour earlier? Or better yet, an hour later? The knock came again, and Logan’s arms dropped as he stepped back.

He moved silently to the door and looked through the peephole at the intruder. He exhaled in frustration and reached for the doorknob. He looked back at me and hesitated as he took in my pajama shorts and tank top, as if seeing me for the first time. Then he picked up his discarded bathrobe from the blue-cushioned sofa and offered it to me.

That was … unexpected.

I shot his bare chest a pointed look, but he merely raised an eyebrow when the next sharp knock came. He waited, as if he had all the time in the world—as if he’d rather let the person on the other side of the door stew in impatience and leave, rather than let them see me like this.

Curious, I glanced down at my suddenly offensive clothes to make sure nothing had ripped or become see-through. Nope, the red shorts were intact, and the black tank was, well, black.

Another sharp knock echoed in the room, somehow sounding more impatient than the previous ones. Logan leaned back against the sofa and crossed his ankles, dangling the robe from his outstretched arm, waiting with an air of unhurried indifference.

I donned the robe, then belted it closed when Logan gestured, if for no other reason than I was curiously intrigued. I was still adjusting the robe when a tall man swaggered inside. The first thing I noticed as he thumped Logan’s shoulder in camaraderie was that he was taller than Logan by a few inches, which put him about a solid foot above my six feet. The second thing I noticed were his eyes: brown and simmering with barely concealed anger.

He brushed past me as if I were a fixture in the room, inhaling deeply as he went, and headed straight for the desk on the far side as if he owned the place. His aura was the third thing I noticed, an odd green color, like that of a were, only fainter, as if someone had tried and failed to erase it. Another weird thing about his aura was the gray specs all over it. My mind cataloged and assessed his attire even as I pondered the strange aura. Black fatigue pants, combat boots, and a black coat that reached all the way down to his ankles—good for concealing weapons and bloodstains. His broad shoulders suggested rigorous and intense workouts. A shiver of unease prickled along my skin. This man exuded danger, his presence radiating an ominous energy that put me on edge.

He placed a stuffed duffel bag on the desk with a muffled thunk and turned to face us. His cold brown eyes passed from me to Logan, then back again, but it was Logan he addressed when he said, “What the hell is going on?” with a thick Spanish accent.

My gaze flicked to Logan briefly. There were three predators in the confined room, and one seemed dangerously hungry for a fight. Logan slammed the door shut with a loud bang. The man’s gaze flickered to a point above my shoulder and back again, almost as if he was expecting me to spring at him at any moment and didn’t dare look away. His eyes moved down my body, assessing, then down Logan’s. I could almost see the wheels turning inside his head.

The smell of our mingled sweat, the fact that I seemed to be naked underneath the robe, Logan’s half-naked body, and, of course, the time it took for us to answer.

As if the whole thing—the workout, the almost make-out, the deliberate way Logan had left him waiting—had been for this guy’s benefit, so he’d reach this conclusion. My eyes wanted to narrow on Logan, but I forced myself to remain indifferent, watching the newcomer. There was a glint of challenge in his brown eyes, the bite of his anger assaulting my senses.

Would it taste as refreshing as Logan’s? I slammed the thought away before it could take any root.

“Is she the woman you mentioned?” he asked in a tone that suggested he had assessed me, the woman, and found me lacking.

Inside, I stiffened, but no reaction showed on my face. No doubt this was the friend Logan had been waiting for.

“Yes,” Logan replied tightly, stepping to my right and a little in front of me.

“I thought you didn’t indulge during a mission,” the man said, his eyes scrutinizing me slowly from head to toe, conveying displeasure with the insult. It felt like he was stripping me with his eyes, contempt and anger the only real emotions thickening the air. This man had a serious problem with me, and I had no idea why—or who he was.

Logan growled, and the man’s gaze again shifted to him, then back to me, his contempt intensifying. “I see,” he said and, in direct contrast to his potent anger, the tension in his shoulders eased as he leaned back on the desk, crossing his ankles and his arms, assuming a relaxed posture. To my right, Logan relaxed as well, as if whatever confrontation had been brewing had been diverted.

Logan half-turned and surprised me with his choice of introduction. “Eliza, this is my friend, Rafael Sanchez. Rafael, this is Eliza.”

Rafael inclined his head in acknowledgment, his eyes still cold. Then he shifted his focus to Logan, as if I were no longer worth his attention. His contempt and anger continued to ooze in rapid waves despite his outwardly relaxed appearance.

“Tell me, man, what’s going on? You’ve been leaving me voicemails and cryptic text messages, each one contradicting the previous. It’s a wonder I even found you.”

“It’s sort of complicated. Have you eaten yet?”

A reluctant incline of the head. “I met with Doug before coming here.” His eyes moved to me before he added, “I wouldn’t mind something to drink, though.”

I quirked an eyebrow. Was he trying to dismiss me or something?

“Excellent,” Logan said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll call for something and hit the shower before filling you in.”

“Fill me in now, bro. Tell me what’s happening.”

“It’s a long story. I’ll be quick,” Logan replied curtly. Was it my imagination, or was he avoiding the question—not wanting to explain in front of me? What was he hiding?

That damned trust issue again. Not wanting to speculate about something I had no control over, I took the time to examine Rafael’s aura now that he wasn’t focused on me. He wasn’t a were—I could tell that even if his aura was green—and the gray specks suggested that whatever he was, he had died first to be made that way. Right? Wasn’t the scar running down his temple to his eyebrow proof enough? I’d never seen a preternatural with a scar unless they’d been human when they got it, but there were exceptions. I scarred sometimes for a while, sometimes for long stretches, sometimes briefly. It took time for an injury to heal, and his could be residual from a fight not long ago. I felt when his eyes snapped back on me, the anger and contempt hitting me full force.

“She doesn’t look dangerous to me,” he commented in a bored, dismissive tone.

My eyebrows rose, and I glanced sideways at Logan. Rafael did the same, and we both waited for the answer. Did Logan discuss his cases—or the ones he refused—with his friends?

“I thought you said she left,” Rafael added.

“She did.”

“Ah. Then this is an illusion?”

Logan’s warning growl reverberated through the room.

Rafael raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Chill, man. No need for hostility. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on. First, you tell me you found a guide. Then you say she’s not coming but will help from the sidelines, and you leave me these colorful chicken scratches with Douglas—who, by the way, is just as confused as I am—and tell me this is where we’re going. You tell me we’re on our own, and then you change the location where I should meet you three times and leave me to figure out where to find you in the end. And when I do, I find her still here. I’m just trying to understand what the fuck is up with this merry chase.”

The familiar freshness of Logan’s anger filled the air, mixing with Rafael’s. “Are you in or not?”

“Sure. We’re still rescuing Archer, I presume? Or has the mission changed as well? Because I can still call Doug and tell him there’s no need for the recon,” Rafael added sarcastically.

Logan’s fist clenched and unclenched. He glanced once at me before stomping to the phone to order drinks and snacks. Then without a word or a glance back at us, he grabbed some clothes and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

That was uncharacteristically childish of him, but it was also very effective—preventing the inevitable confrontation from breaking or answering questions he’d rather avoid.

We both watched the closed door for a moment. Eventually, Rafael’s gaze shifted to me, his outwardly relaxed stance underlying the angry waves battering at my senses, begging to be consumed. “You don’t look dangerous to me,” he repeated, his tone dripping with condescension.

I ignored his deliberate provocation. Would he consider me dangerous if I sucked the life out of him? Would I be able to do it again—fast enough to diffuse an attack? It would be interesting to know if I could drain the life of an enemy without him realizing it before it was too late.

Like his eyes, Rafael’s hair was also brown, his face lean with sharp edges, giving him a dangerous look I suspected even ordinary humans heeded—without knowing why.

“I guess the old saying is true: looks can be deceiving,” he mocked. “I mean, pretty, soft, dreamy look in the eyes, looks pampered and well-mannered. It surprises me that Logan fell for it.” His eyes roved over me, assessing and dismissive.

Why was he pushing for a fight? I wasn’t going to take the bait. Still, I had the urge to look behind me to see if there was anyone else in the room with us. Soft? Dreamy look in the eyes? Pampered? Well-mannered? His assessment was laughable . He shifted, the gray flecks in his aura moved with the motion, making the green seem flexible, like water. What could have an aura like that of a were yet feel and look different? I racked my mind for what I’d read in Dr. Maxwell’s journal but kept coming up empty.

“So, what’s up with you and Logan?”

I smirked. “Aren’t you dying to know?” I mulled over the possibilities of some new species in my mind, something similar to a were. Maybe like Logan, he was a hybrid of sorts.

“Don’t be a smartass with me. I can tell you’re hiding something. And even if Logan can’t see past the pretty shell to your subtle scheme, rest assured you’re not fooling me. I’ve seen many like you before. Spill it.”

“Or what?”

“Don’t push me. I’ll get it out one way or another. There’s something off about you, and I have no idea why Logan hasn’t sensed it, but I have.”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Start talking,” he hissed, obviously expecting me to feel intimidated.

I did. But thanks to all my years with the PSS, he would never know. That, and being a predator myself, I knew not to show weakness in a game of dominance. And that’s exactly what this was: a predator trying to assert his alpha status.

“I have nothing to tell you.”

“Let me explain something, sistah. I’ve known Logan for a long time. I’ve seen him around beautiful women before. I’ve also seen him in action and know for a fact he’d never stray from his objective, especially when that objective is Archer.”

I cocked my head to the side. Who said he had? “I thought he was waiting for you.”

“No, he knew I was unreachable, and he could have—should have—sought out someone else.”

Again, I had nothing to say to that.

Rafael raised his eyebrows, his gaze cooling a few degrees more. “So?”

I straightened. “Why don’t you just get that stick out of your ass and tell me what you think I’m doing instead of dancing around it?”

Rafael’s nostrils flared. “Very well. I know you’re playing him to sell him out, so I’ll tell you this: if you turn around and leave—and I mean without making a fuss—I’ll understand you’re doing it for your own sake and sense of survival, and I won’t hold it against you, if you leave before any foul.” His accent had thickened by the time he finished.

I just stared at him, dumbfounded. I looked at the closed bathroom door and wondered what Logan had told him about me. “How the hell did you draw a conclusion like that?”

“Oh, small things here and there. They add up, painting a clear picture of you.”

“Really? Things like what? The soft, dreamy look in my eyes, being pampered and well-mannered?” I infused as much scorn and sarcasm into the words as possible. If the darkening of his eyes was any indication, it had carried loud and clear.

“No. Those are just covers. The easier to help you spread the web. What adds up are your actions. You see, we have a base nearby. If we’re meeting here, it’s because either Logan doesn’t trust you—unlikely since he’s bringing you along—or you somehow manipulated him into taking you somewhere you wouldn’t be under constant scrutiny.” He sneered at my stunned expression, and I could practically see the venom dripping from his lips.

So that was where he’d taken his belongings, then—not another room at the hotel, but a base where he didn’t trust to take me.

“But that wasn’t the only thing,” Rafael continued, taking a step forward. “While those creepy white coats had their clutches on both of you, you managed to fight them off and hijack their vehicle, saving the day—all while Logan was conveniently unconscious. Then there’s also the army. Was it twelve, fifteen SEALs? How did you get away? And let’s not forget Black Drammen. How the hell did you get Logan to walk willingly into that torture trap? Who the hell are you to warrant Black Drammen’s attention anyway? Are you selling Logan out to him or the white coats?” By the time he finished, his breathing came fast, his fists were clenched, and he no longer pretended to be relaxed.

Tension, anger, and contempt rolled off him like waves on a stormy beach. It was a wonder he hadn’t snapped yet.

“I don’t know how you’ve been managing to keep Logan from seeing what’s happening right under his nose, but Douglas and I have you figured out for what you are, and what you are is a manipulating, pretentious, and conniving bitch, and I’m not letting you drag him under after all he’s been through. Is that straight enough for you?”

I was speechless for a few seconds, torn between feeling insulted and outraged. I settled on a loud, unladylike snort. He took a step forward, either to frighten or to manhandle me. I tensed, my fingers shaking in anticipation. He caught the motion and smirked. I held his gaze without blinking.

“Tell me. Are you selling him out for leniency for your crimes against the white coats?” His hands snaked out and grabbed the lapels of my robe, jerking me forward before I had time to react.

Shit, he was fast. Our faces were close, inches from touching. I pushed my shock aside and reacted, wrapping my talons around his throat before he could pull back. My thumb talon pressed against his pulse point, mirrored by my index talon on the other side. One wrong move and there’d be a bloody smile below his jaw. As expected, Rafael froze. If it hadn’t been for my miscalculation about his reach and speed, he wouldn’t have gotten that far without a fight first.

“Let go and back away slowly,” I said, my voice low and menacing.

In response, his hand tightened around the lapel of the robe, his eyes narrowing. Animalistic. This close, I could sense the jungle in him—the feral music of savagery, raw and untamed. His aura shimmered, and I flexed my talons. Just enough to send home the warning that I wasn’t fooling around, opening two identical slashes on either side of his throat. Blood beaded around my thumb and index talons. Rafael’s anger intensified, turning into a furious rage that tasted metallic, like the smell of his blood.

“If you try to shift, I promise you’ll be dead before you’re over the first stage.”

His eyes flickered with surprise. If I hadn’t been looking directly into them, I would have missed it. I had no idea what he could do or what flavor of preternatural he was, and I wasn’t keen to find out the hard way, no matter how curious I was. I could tell he was trying hard to guess what I was—there weren’t many preternaturals out there able to discern when another was about to access their magic. I could also tell the moment he realized his mistake in underestimating me. From the tick in his clenched jaw, I could tell those mistakes weren’t many. Or repeated. I wouldn’t get a second chance to catch him by surprise again.

One more reason to make this time count. If he decided to come after me, it would be abrupt and vicious. It scared me shitless to know someone as cold as this man would be added to my list of worries, but none of it showed on my face.

“Back off,” I said again quietly. When he began to let go, I added, “Slowly.”

He did. I didn’t withdraw my talons, though.

“Now it’s my turn to speak. I don’t give a damn if you trust me, idolize me, or dislike me. I’ll tell you this, and only because what you’re doing stems from friendship and loyalty, and I respect that. I’m not going to betray Logan, and I don’t intend to sell him out—not to Remo, much less to the people who enslaved me for almost a decade.”

His pupils contracted at that, his only outward reaction.

Again, I would have missed it had I not been so close. “But I don’t like you, and I don’t like your assumptions. I don’t take kindly to scorn and insults. Cross me and you’ll live only long enough to regret it. Understood?” I hoped he believed my threat. I wouldn’t be able to surprise him again—he wouldn’t underestimate me next time.

The flash of fury in his eyes sent a chill down my spine. This man didn’t like being bested, and I had just done that. I had a sudden image that after this was over, I’d be constantly watching my back, keeping an eye out for him. I was sure that while Logan was around, he’d do me no harm, but after this thing was over and Logan and I went our separate ways, he’d come after me. And if I relaxed even a little and he found the opportunity, I wouldn’t know what hit me.

I was about to pull back my talons when the bathroom door burst open and Logan stood there, dripping water everywhere. Caught with my hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, I let go—but I didn’t take my eyes off Rafael until I took a step back, careful not to be within his reach. I didn’t think he’d do anything with Logan near, but I’d seen enough deception in my life to take things at face value.

Rafael’s eyes followed my hand, catching the blur as talons retracted into fingers. There was a flicker in his eyes, quickly gone, and this time I couldn’t tell if it was anger, surprise, or something else. Up to that moment, he hadn’t known what I was threatening him with, only that it was sharp and could sever his artery. His eyes jumped from my hand to my face, and there was a gleam of speculation that I didn’t like.

Because I had been turning to face Logan and had both him and Rafael in view, I caught Rafael’s questioning glance and Logan’s barely perceptive nod. Question asked and answered, I thought mildly. Whatever the silent exchange was, Logan wasn’t deterred by it. His eyes were narrowed, and I could sense his anger, a familiar sensation pulsating above Rafael’s rage.

Had he heard the conversation between us? The shower was still running. Whatever had alerted him, he hadn’t finished his shower yet. His narrowed eyes shifted to me. He was clearly trying to figure out who he was supposed to aid. Sweet.

I forced myself to relax, not an easy feat with Rafael nearby, and gave Logan a forced smile. “Rafael thought I wasn’t fit to join the mission, that I looked harmless. I told him I could get past his guard, and he wanted me to prove it.” Aiming my forced smile at Rafael, I shrugged and added, “I guess I proved my point.”

Rafael’s jaw tensed a fraction, understanding the underlying meaning of my words. Then he smiled back, a more convincing one, and leaned back on the desk.

“Indeed, you surprised me.” And it won’t happen again. The words weren’t spoken aloud but were acknowledged nonetheless.

Logan was still angry, though, and I didn’t want to be the cause of a feud between two friends. Soon I’d be gone, but those two would still be around, bumping into each other occasionally, if nothing else. If they wanted to fight over something, it wasn’t going to be over me.

Rafael relaxed, and this time it was genuine as the rage dissipated, clearing the stifling atmosphere. Logan was trying to do the same.

“You need some help scrubbing your back?” I asked, giving him an appreciative look. Any other time, I’d have blushed to the point of combustion, but today the words were empty, without weight or meaning.

He looked down at himself, as if just now noticing he was naked and dripping wet. Without a word, he turned and went back to the bathroom. He didn’t close the door all the way.

I cast a contemptuous glance at Rafael after the shower stopped and found him watching me with that speculative gleam still in his eyes.

“I see why the white coats think you’re dangerous,” he said, acknowledging his previous comment.

“You see nothing,” I snapped.

“They offered me a lot of money to come after you,” he said before turning to flip on Logan’s laptop.

So, they both shared a profession. I bet this Douglas guy did too. How many hired mercs had refused the bounty? I narrowed my eyes at Rafael’s back. “I’d have killed you.”

“I’m sure you’d have tried,” he said almost absentmindedly.

Logan emerged from the bathroom, dressed in faded blue jeans and a dark blue long-sleeve t-shirt.

“Your turn,” he said to me and headed over to watch what Rafael was doing.