EIGHTEEN - Alana

EIGHTEEN

Alana

Fury sparks like live wires in my bloodstream, and it's a feeling I hold on to with both hands. So much better than pain.

Thorn woke me with a rough order to get ready to go. No explanation, no hint of regret. I hurriedly dressed before meeting him down in the vestibule.

A blush of dawn begins to tinge the sky pink and peach as we drive through the outskirts of the Port of Redwood City. Tension fills the SUV, and I try to remain calm in the backseat but it's difficult to refrain from reacting. My entire body is satisfied and sore, and even the long bath I took earlier hasn't erased the evidence of Thorn's lovemaking. I mean, sex. Man. Now I'm seeing little hearts in my eyes, and he's trying to get rid of me. Seriously.

I have small nips, scratches, and bites in the most intimate of places. I feel like I have been completely and truly fucked—in a very good way.

Thorn may have ruined me for all other men.

I so want to question him right now but can't with the two men in the front seat of the vehicle. It's too embarrassing.

I truly hate him with the depths of hellfire. He got what he wanted. My stupid virginity? It's like Cal said: Everyone wanted in my pants, and whoever got there first could declare themselves the big winner. Thorn got there, and I let him. I said yes.

He won. The bastard.

He sits next to me in his customary black slacks and white shirt, but today he has a weapon in a shoulder holster as well as one at his hip. I believe they're both Glocks, but to be frank, I've never paid much attention to guns. His body is all tight muscle, and he feels more distant than the few inches between us. Whatever happened last night is over. He has moved on.

I feel like a painting that he brushed with vibrant colors of passion and need last night. Now with his sudden coldness, all of the hues are blotted out. I'm gray and lifeless. Listless.

And I'm getting maudlin. For Pete's sake. I propositioned him and said I was leaving.

But he said he wanted me to stay. As a liar, he's a master.

Justice looks back at us. "We have intel, long-range surveillance, that Mathias packed a chest of garnets to trade."

I want to puke. They're trading me for crystals? I'm being ransomed? Justice drives, and there's another guard in the passenger seat who was introduced as Sean when we started the journey. He's a barrel of a man with a crew cut and thick neck who looks as if he could run through a metal door without breaking stride. In front of us, two SUVs take the lead while two follow behind.

For stupid garnets? He's trading me for stones? "Isn't this a bit of overkill?" I ask. "We're meeting my father, right?"

"Exactly," Thorn says grimly, focusing his gaze out the window as if he's expecting an attack. He fills out his shirt with those cut muscles I memorized the night before.

I don't like the idea of anybody getting shot. If my father's men feel the same level of tension as these guys, lead will be flying in every direction. With my current luck, I'll probably take a bullet to the throat. "Can I have a gun?" Might as well protect myself.

"No." Thorn doesn't turn my way.

"Why not?" I push for any emotion from him.

He turns to me. "Because you're in no danger when I'm near you."

Finally, we pull to a stop in front of a row of rusty, battered, and dented warehouses. Thorn glances at his watch. "Sean, scout," he says.

Sean instantly slips from the vehicle and out into the rain. Dawn isn't making much headway through the clouds. But at the moment, I figure that might be a good thing.

"Snipers?" Thorn asks.

Justice nods, his hands loose on the steering wheel. "Yes. We've got the entire area covered." He glances in the rearview mirror and then launches into Gaelic. "Why are you letting her go?"

Yeah. Good question, Justice. I hold my breath and hope Thorn answers.

Thorn doesn't look at me and replies, "I need the garnet and you know it. There's no other way to get it."

Justice's hands tighten on the wheel. "You know Mathias has been collecting garnets, and he wants to bring you down. Let's take him out now. Weaken Aquarius Social. It's a good move."

Dread pools in my abdomen and I concentrate on the back of the headrest in front of me, trying to level my breathing.

"I'm not ready to declare war," Thorn returns. He lifts his shoulder, and I can tell his thoughts are following a dark path. It's amazing how much I feel I know him after last night. He was rough, sexy, possessive, and then sweet. Oh, how he'd hate for anybody to know he could be sweet for a few minutes. But as he calmly plots murder, I wonder if it was just an act. If so, he was very good at it. "I'd want to question Mathias before killing him, anyway."

I gulp and try not to gag. They are actually talking about brutally torturing my father. I can barely breathe. Thorn is sitting next to me after the night we shared, and he's considering killing my father? I know he can be cold, but this is a shock. "I think I just heard my father's name. Why are you speaking in Gaelic?" Just how far will he take the lie?

"Because we're rude bastards," he says easily.

So. He tells the truth. There is absolutely no doubt or regret in his deep voice. Just who is this man? I want to punch him in the throat, but if I do that, I won't be able to warn my father. I guess last night was just a blip outside of reality.

Lightning zaps near the closest warehouse and I jump.

Justice straightens in the seat. "Last chance. I could go rogue and just shoot him, covering you," he says, his voice monotone as if they're talking about the weather.

How can he ask such a thing with me in the vehicle? I look out the window as if bored because I can't understand Gaelic.

"Not here. Not in front of her," Thorn retorts quickly, his Gaelic fast.

Well, I guess there's that. Even so, if Thorn's going to declare war within the families, why care what I think? I swallow, and my throat feels parched. If we are enemies, why has he trusted me so? My gaze is drawn to him again. A thought occurs to me. Just how badly does he want to win? "Are there cameras in your bedroom?" What if this is all a game and I'm going to star in Malice Media accounts having sex for the first time?

"Of course not." His eyes burn with emotion, and I take a moment to gather my wits. He feels like an animal barely leashed, and the tension in the vehicle starts to choke me. "I don't share. Never forget that."

Both men go on full alert as another caravan drives into place. I recognize my father's car in the middle. Thorn has positioned himself between me and my family. "Stay here and don't come out until I tell you," he orders.

"Wait." I grab his arm even though I don't know why. "Don't." I guess I don't want him to get shot. No matter how I look at it, last night is one I'll never forget.

"Stay here." He opens the door and steps out as Justice does the same. Unable to help myself, I scoot over to their side and look through the window. My father and Nico step out of his car as his men jump out of the vehicles on either side. All of a sudden, everybody has guns pointed at everybody else.

I can't let this happen. I shove open the door and hit Thorn in the back of his thighs. Without looking, he reaches in and grabs my arm to pull me out. Rain instantly smashes into me and I blink, trying to see.

"Are you all right?" my father asks.

I stand tall in dark jeans, wedges, and a yellow sweater. "I'm perfectly all right," I say. Hopefully I look calm and in control of myself. I'm not. My emotions are all over the map. "Nobody needs to get shot today."

"No," my father says. "That will come another day." He stares directly at Thorn as he speaks.

"I look forward to it," Thorn drawls. "Where are my garnets?"

The question slices through me sharper than a knife.

My dad points to the last truck in his caravan, where men are unloading a large metal trunk. Thorn lifts a finger, and two of his men take possession of the container, looking quickly inside, nodding, and then running it over to their SUV.

Seriously? He really did barter me for garnets. That ass! "How many garnets am I worth?" I ask, looking way up at Thorn's implacable face.

One of his eyebrows rises. "Many more than I'll ever get. I promise."

"Whatever." I turn and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Are we about done with the posturing, boys? I really do have to get to work."

Nobody moves, and similarly, nobody seems all that impressed with my bravado.

"All right," Thorn says, releasing my arm. "Get in that car and away from the guns."

I take this last moment and partially turn to whisper. "Are you going to forget all about me?" Yep. I'm a glutton.

"No." There's no warmth in his tone as he says the word. "I promise you, Alana Beaumont, we are nowhere near done."

"This doesn't make sense."

"That's irrelevant," he says grimly. "I'm coming for you and soon. Don't for a second forget who you belong to."

I reach back into the car and haul out two backpacks before walking across the several yards of mudpuddle-riddled dirt road to reach my father.

He looks at me. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," I say honestly. Well, not in the way my father means.

"What the hell is in the backpacks?"

I swallow and try to keep from dumping them on the ground. They're so heavy. "Books." I already had a pile put together when Thorn decided to kick me to the curb.

My father looks at me as if I'm insane but still opens the back door. I slide inside before he jumps into the front. Nico walks around and gets in beside me. The air is cooler here than in Thorn's vehicle. Did he keep the heat on for me? Man, I'm a moron. Of course not. I'm about to be in Thorn Beathach's rearview mirror for good.

Nico hands over a phone. "You need to post something and now. We're losing verified paying accounts by the second."

I accept the phone. Slowly, I roll down my window. "Hey, Thorn. It was real," I say.

He just looks at me as if he wants nothing more than to tear across the distance between us.

I swallow, heat filling my lungs. "You taught me a lot last night. Maybe I can teach you something as well." I smile, and it's forced, but I'm a woman who knows how to play for the cameras, after all. "Here it is. You should never assume anything." I deliver the last in perfect Gaelic.

His eyes shift to a whole new color.

We drive away, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to look back. It doesn't matter. I can feel that stare boring into me.

Take that, Malice Media.