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In no time at all, I’m soaked in sweat, and my muscles burn so good. The warmth in my belly has grown to a full-on keening ache. I want his hands around my neck. I want his sweaty body enveloping mine. I can see in his eyes that he wants the same. So I tease him, drawing out our deadly dance.
“You don’t think that Howard Malloy’s shipment was Grey Death, do you?” I ask, ducking as Noah swings his stick at my head.
“He told Dad it wasn’t drugs.” Noah puffs as he goes for my legs. I dart out of the way, using the triangular footwork Benjie taught us, and land a hit across his shoulders. He winces, but I can see from his eyes he relishes the pain. He grabs my arm and pulls me in close, and I can feel his hard cock grind against my leg.
We’re both completely fucked up.
We’re perfect for each other.
“I don’t exactly trust Malloy to tell the truth, do you?” Noah’s eyes burn into mine. He’s frozen on the edge of winning our fight or tearing off my panties. I take the chance to go for another hit, but I’m too slow. Noah whacks my weapon away, trips me off-balance, and slams my back against the floor.
The pain drives the air from my lungs. The bullet wound twinges. Noah leans over me, pinning my arms, and for a moment his eyes darken and I feel his fingers press into my throat, and I don’t think he sees me. I’m not certain if he wants to fuck me or kill me.
“Noah,” I choke out. I remember being choked by Cali. I don’t exactly want a repeat.
His name seems to break the spell. With a howl, Noah tears his hands from my throat and slides off me. I suck in a lungful of fresh air. His shoulders sag. “Claws, I’m sor—”
His words cut off as I attack. Now it’s my turn to pin him, using his superior strength as a counterweight to trap him, the way Benjie taught me. I slap his cheek playfully, and his eyes blaze. His chest heaves, and he’s utterly entranced.
“It could explain a lot. Why Grey Death is here in Emerald Beach without a clear link to its other hotspots. We saw it at the Colosseum, remember? And Brutus…” I think of Brutus with his legs broken, the tiny rocks of grey on the silver tray beside him. “We know Cleo gave Grey Death to Dylan and she was dealing it on the show. Mackenzie could have stolen the drugs and used Cleo to get them to market. Maybe that’s why Howard disappeared, and that’s what Brentwood meant when he said Mackenzie is a murderer. Maybe he was moving the drugs for someone else and they killed him, or he’s hiding from them—”
Noah throws his body to the left, hooking his leg over mine and flipping me over. He crawls on top of me, pressing my chest into the mat. His cock grinds against my ass as his breath hitches in my ear. I grind my ass against him, and he growls in my ear.
“Mackenzie’s a piece of work, but could she steal an entire shipment of drugs from her father and get them onto the market without the Triumvirate coming down on her ass, without your cousin noticing? I doubt it, even if she was working with Brutus.” Noah rasps his words as he dry-fucks me, his hands pinning mine. I’ve no hope of escaping from him, even if I wanted to. But why escape when everything I want is right here?
“It’s the strongest lead we have,” I huff as he lets go of my wrist to slide his hand down my body, pushing down my jeans. He rams his cock inside me, grinding my pelvis into the mats. Talk about hurting so good; I’m going to be sore tomorrow. “We need to find my sister. And Cleo’s going to help us.”
Claudia
Cleo’s NYE party is masquerade-themed, which is perfect for what we plan to do. Gabriel’s the only one of us actually invited, but Mackenzie Malloy would never let a little fact like that get in her way, and neither will I.
Eli looks worried as he pulls on his outfit – a black suit with a Roman centurion helmet, complete with towering red plume. “Nero’s going to notice I’m not at Vault tonight.”
“Fuck Nero,” Gabriel says from the bed, where he’s lazing half-naked with Queen Boudica curled up asleep in his hair. “He should know by now that Captain America doesn’t support him exploiting vulnerable people and animals for entertainment.”
“What did he do for women in the end?” I ask as I watch Yara try on one of Ainsley Malloy’s cocktail dresses. She could have been having a very different NYE.
“Livvie paid through the nose to ship in every sex worker from Los Angeles for the night.” Eli adjusts his tie. At his wrist, I glimpse the edge of his tattoo – my mark. Because he’s mine, no matter what Nero wants to believe. “She’s been working non-stop on their routines and getting them used to working with the animals. But at least they’re getting paid. It’s Casper I’m worried about. Now that he’s no longer going to Constantine, Nero’s decided to make him a star attraction. He’ll be charging his guests through the nose to hold and pet and feed him and pose for photographs, all night long. All those bright lights and strange faces… Casper will be so scared.” He shudders.
I place a hand on his shoulder. “We will save him. I promise you.”
Eli nods miserably, tugging his helmet over his head. I know he’s still thinking about a tiny white tiger trapped by Nero’s greed.
We pile into a rented limo. It’s only the six of us tonight – Tiberius has taken Madeline out on a date, and I assume Antony needs to show his face at Vault if he wants to keep the Colosseum running with Nero’s blessing after we move the girls somewhere safer. I’m a little nervous going into this without Antony backing me up, but I know all of my princes can be just as ruthless as my cousin when one of our family is in danger.
Cleo St. James won’t see us coming.
Gabriel controls the music from his phone. He growls along to a metal song and my knees go weak. Everyone else is quiet, subdued. We’re not out to party.
We ask the driver to park a few blocks from Cleo’s place. We pull on our helmets and masks. Noah carries the bag of tools. Gabriel goes on ahead of us – he’ll find Cleo and lead her to her bedroom. The rest of us sneak around the rear of the clout house. I wore boots because I expected to climb a fence and hike through a garden of cacti because that’s how my life works, but it turns out there’s a group of mask-clad teens smoking weed in an open doorway leading to a narrow staircase circling around behind the pool. They let us through and even give George a few tokes as we pass.
We skirt the edges of the party, not wanting to risk being recognized. It’s a pointless worry – wasted kids in masks dance with abandon and fuck in the breakfast nook. There are at least twenty people naked and writhing in the pool. Pipes and rocks of Grey Death are passed around in full view. No one gives a shit that the Roman legionnaires have arrived.
We slink upstairs, find Cleo’s room, and hide in her giant walk-in closet. I pull off my helmet and wipe the sweat from my brow. We might have a long wait.
Noah and I press our backs to the door, listening for voices in the room. George starts pulling down boxes from the higher shelves. “You never know what secrets she’s hiding in here. Like this.” She holds up a shoebox. Inside I see neat rows of Grey Death rocks, sorted into small baggies for sale. George snaps a few photographs of the box, then replaces it.
Yara hunts through the racks of clothing, pulling out dresses and holding them against herself. She seems completely unperturbed about what we’re here to do. After everything she’s been through, I’m not surprised a little B&E doesn’t faze her.
