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He paused for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. Pretending to be someone official generally worked in most situations, but he’d never attempted anything this bold or, frankly, stupid.
Damien pushed on the gate and stormed around the side of the massive house. “Everyone stay where you are.”
Startled, the people in the crowd turned and gasped.
“Who the fuck are you?” snarled Vincente, a thin blond man with hollow cheeks.
“Do you have a permit for this creature?” Damien pointed to the naked woman. “Do you even know the laws? No. I thought not. Because harboring a were requires a level-ten clearance, and the last time I checked, you, Vincente Newbery, didn’t have one. So you can either come with us—” Damien pointed to the trees around the perimeter, pretending he had an army of men in black suits with him “—or you can look at my handy device here and forget this ever happened. Either way, this dangerous being comes with us.” Damien held up his pen. Hell, it worked in the movies.
You are ridiculous, tailor. Let me handle this.
“I’ll take the forget option.” A woman in a white dress handed her drink to the man next to her and went to stand in front of Damien. “Sorry, Newbery, but I can’t afford bad publicity. Not now.”
Damien stood his ground, not reacting to the drama. No blinking. No moving. Just a mysterious man in a dark suit wearing sunglasses at night. Like the song.
“Go untie that creature, please,” he told the woman in the white dress.
She scrambled over and loosened the restraints.
The naked woman sat up, crying hysterically.
Damien pushed away any feelings of sympathy. He had to. “You. Give her your dress.” He pointed to another woman in a red dress who was the same size as the were.
“But this is a Valentino.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling with that knockoff? Valentino never made that design in red. Now give it to her.” Damien probably should not have said that. Didn’t go with the persona.
The woman did not seem to notice his slip-up and quickly stripped it off, leaving her in a pair of unflattering control-top panties and an eight-hour support bra. The wrong size. She was clearly a B cup trying to fit into a C.
She handed the dress to the were.
“Good. Now if everyone would please stand over there in a single-file line,” Damien instructed coldly, preparing to grab the were and make a hasty exit.
The crowd started organizing, muttering how pissed off they were at Vincente for getting them involved with this. Vincente just looked downright confused.
This rescue was going much better than he’d thought. Of course, now he’d have to return later. Damien still needed to have that chat with Vincente like he’d planned.
Screams erupted, jarring Damien from his moment of triumph. The clouds above separated with a slow crawl, and the moonlight beamed down on the yard.
The female were dropped to her hands and knees, giant feathers sprouting from her spine.
A were-eagle?“Oh shit.”
When will you listen, tailor? Always bring your weapons. Always! You’d better run.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Just after midnight, covered in blood, Damien pulled in front of an impressive glass palace overlooking Malibu beach and shut off his engine. Not only had his “emergency” suit been ruined—completely shredded—but the one man who could have provided valuable answers pertaining to the creature trafficking was now history. So were the catering staff, pets, lawn furniture, and all but one of the guests. The eagle had gone to town.
Jesus, I thought they were merely legends.Mythological creatures invented by the ancient Greeks.
Nope.
The thing’s wingspan had to be at least thirty feet. The talons were so long and sharp, it had made sushi out of the guests in under two minutes. It had been a complete bloodbath.
After that, the were-eagle took a tiki torch and lit the place up. Any documents, evidence, or clues inside Vincente’s home were now gone.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He pounded his fists on the steering wheel. He just wanted to get this done and move on.
