Bad Blood (Book 4 of The Warden series) (33 page)

He grinned. She had caught on to his tactics. He lifted her shirt and teased her with his mouth. “Would you rather I lecture you?” He said switching breasts.

“No, this is much better.” She wrapped her legs around him and clawed at his shoulders. He took that as a signal that it was time to move things upstairs. He gave the skillet a cursory glance and decided it would be fine until he could get back to it.

He carried her upstairs, continuing his dalliances under her shirt one handed. By the time he got her upstairs, there was no debate about what he would do to her next. She pushed him down on the mattress, ripped at his clothes, continuing the interrupted “thank you” from earlier.

Like a good husband he let her have her way, and she did. She demanded a few more affirmations of his love than she usually did, but they were otherwise right where they left off, before Leona and before Efrat.

56

Cori couldn’t help, but appreciate Ethan’s way of breaking the bad news about Belus to her. To be honest, she wasn’t sure it was bad news. They weren’t the only ones to feel torn apart by their inconsistent trio.

Even though it didn’t technically happen, Cori was disappointed by the way, Danato had handled himself in her skewed timelines. She didn’t like that he was willing to commit her rather than listen to her honest explanation. She also didn’t like that he didn’t believe her that General Clark would flat out execute Efrat if he knew the truth. He obliged to her request, but he still didn’t think it was necessary.

Belus on the other hand was consistent throughout the time skews. He was indifferent to her suffering, but because he was, he was able to analyze the situation. Each time she was faced with questions, he was there willing to answer them as best he could. He was also willing to sacrifice his own life to put things right again.

She knew what being under Belus would mean. It would be a lot of hard work, a lot of rules and regulations, and a lot less sympathy. Even though she hated the sound of all of that, at least she could depend on that each and every day from Belus.

Ethan slipped back into his jeans. She watched the tight denim slip over his muscular legs and butt. She bit her lip, checking the clock. If there was time after dinner, she was definitely going to have to get those pants off again.

He caught her eying him and buried her smile in blankets. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed again. She liked the feel of being naked under the sheets. Ethan moved to her and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled the sheet away from her mouth and still farther until her chest and tummy were exposed. He openly ogled her, as she had only moments before done to him.

He touched her stomach. He stared at her as his hand caressed the flesh around her belly button. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but when he finally snapped out of his trance, he pulled the sheet up to cover her body again. “You cover that up, before you make me ruin dinner.”

She laughed, but she could see another thought crowd into the romantic moment. He stared down at nothing until the thought was too overpowering to keep in. “Cori, about Efrat.”

“It meant nothing.” She already prepared to defend this part of her morning. “He just did it to mess with Danato.”

“I figured as much,” he said sounding distant in thought. “But that isn’t my question.” He looked at her, with all hint of romance gone from his eyes. “The gloves, the conversation. It all seemed very…conspired.”

She suddenly wished she had gotten dressed. She felt more naked than ever. “What do you mean?”

“I need you to be very honest with me. Is there something more going on between you two than just gloves and provocative kisses?”

Cori hated lying to him. She didn’t exactly want to tell him the truth, but she needed to be as near honest as she could, before this situation got away from her, like so many others before it. “Umm,” she played with her sheet. A sure sign of guilt. “I’m not sure. I mean no, but there were some conversations that made me question some things.”

“What’s the question?” He tipped his head innocently querying about her dilemma. She loved him for that. He wasn’t prying or coercing, just asking.

“Ethan, do you know anything about the elementals. I mean do you know why they are here? What did they do to get incarcerated here?”

“Well,” he took a deep breath before answering. “I know they were part of an elite military operation in the U.S. They were recruited to be a new special ops division, like navy seals. I think the U.S. thought they had superheroes. As it turns out they just had a bunch of wild, supernatural beings, with the ability to create chaos. I don’t know the specifics of their crimes, but given the laundry list of lives they’ve cost in the prison, I can only imagine what they did in the real world.”

“Oh.” She was disappointed, but she wasn’t sure why. It all seemed very simple. Militant soldiers incarcerated for war crimes. Very simple. “I guess maybe Efrat was just bitter about being locked up. He must have been trying to get my sympathy. Like that would do any good. I don’t even have a code to go upstairs.”

“You thought maybe he was really a good man because he helped save Belus?”

“I guess. I know he’s such an ass, but…I really am gullible.”

“No, you’re just a natural born hero, but trust me, he’s not worth saving.”

“Have you read his file?”

“No, Danato keeps those under lock and key in the office.” He looked her over trying to see if she had any more to say or ask. “Is that all? Nothing else is bothering you.”

Cori knew she should tell him about the key. She knew it was a violation against him and Danato not to reveal it, but she just couldn’t. Until she knew more, she didn’t want anyone to know about the key. She wanted to know what Efrat thought would change her opinion of Danato.

Efrat probably was still just a bad guy, incarcerated for doing bad stuff, but the image of his head being blow out by a point blank gunshot made her question the motivations of the military. Until she had answers, she would keep her secret firmly stifled.

“That’s it.” She shrugged with a contented smile to ease his concerns.

Sneak
Peek

The Warden

Tenants and Tyrants

Daniel McGrath sprinted up the second to last flight of stairs. His throat burned from the effort of sucking in excess air while ascending the five flights of hospital stairs. He was pretty sure if he made it to the top without puking, it would not be viewed as a triumph by his stomach.

On the last landing before the roof Heaton popped out of the sixth floor door looking alert and un-winded. Daniel conversely thought his heart might explode if it thumped any faster. He pointed a finger at Heaton threatening to say something as soon as his breathing was not overpowering his vocal chords.

Heaton looked up at the next flight, and back at him. He had finally given up his efforts at long dreads and floppy mops, and settled on corn rows to manage his thick black hair. Daniel had objected fervently to this new hair style. Not because he wasn’t pulling it off, but because it, along with his new black leather sport coat style jacket, made him look like a mobster thug. However, since this look had increased the attention he got from women at the pubs, he had no intention of making any changes. He had even threatened to grow a goatee like Daniel’s.

“Where the feck have you been? I thought you were right behind me,” Daniel spat out between breaths.

“I was. I took the elevator,” Heaton answered motioning to the door he just arrived from.

“What? I thought you said we had to chase it up the stairwell.”

“Yeah,” Heaton said implying the “no duh,” “not both of us.”

“Are you off your nut? I just ran up five flights of stairs.”

“Yeah, you did good. Jordan said he popped out on to the roof. Let’s go get him.”

“You wanker! You made me climb these stairs?” When Heaton didn’t respond he clarified his outrage. “You run marathons, you plonker!”

“Yeah,” he offered the “no duh” implication again, “on roads, not stairs. Who wants to run up stairs?”

Heaton opened his mouth to let loose a deluge of Irish curses, but his cell phone ring interrupted him. The ring was a high twittering noise. It was annoying as hell, and he chose it with the very specific intention of pissing himself off every time he heard it. So far, it was working.

He tugged it from his pocket and clicked to answer it. “What?” He croaked into the phone.

“Are you two coming?” Nevia asked on the other end. They had only been working together for three months, but she was already ruling the roast. She made the plans, while they did all the dirty work.

“Yes, we’re fecking coming, you narky woman!” He clicked the phone off and shoved it back in his pocket. “Whose damn idea was it to keep her on?”

“Yours,” Heaton answered jogging ahead of him on the stairs. Daniel felt hot in his long jacket, but as soon as he got onto the roof, the night’s early autumn breeze cooled him down. Most people hated to see summer go, but he was much happier in a cold climate. If he hadn’t hated the idea of being nearly celibate he might have considered opting for Ethan’s job. He was basically an indentured servant anyway.

“Where is the blood sucking bastard?” he asked scanning the roof. There was a helicopter on the landing pad on the other side of the roof. They had a special entrance to take the emergency victims into the hospital, but those doors required I.D. badges.

“He has to be up here. He’s not a flier.” Heaton surveyed the roof taking in the scene with the precision of a soldier. Daniel only knew a little about Heaton’s military background, but it was enough to know not to ask about it. Heaton wasn’t exactly proud of the roles he had played. Heroism always looked different depending on what it required you to do.

“Then he’s hiding. Search or lure?” Daniel asked not sure which answer he would have preferred. He was tired enough to hope for lure, but no one really wants to be vampire bait.

“I’m up for search, if you take the cut.”

“Damn it I always take the cut,” Daniel grumbled.

“You heal faster.”

“Barely!” Daniel didn’t really heal faster, but something about his system did allow for very quick clotting. It was a pretty useless talent, but it had saved his life on one occasion. The occasion was New Year’s Eve. The life threatening offender was a broken bottle that he managed to impale himself with when he passed out. Even with the quick clotting, it wasn’t a happy new year.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Heaton said pulling out his knife. “Can’t feel anything on this arm anyway.” Heaton rolled up his sleeve to reveal his melted flesh. Ever since he had confronted Daniel about it at the prison, he had been passive aggressively taking shots at him about it. However, Daniel no longer held any sympathy for his affliction. Rule one: stay the fuck out of a dispellers way!

Daniel had never known what to call himself. He had rejected the phrase exorcist, for obvious reasons of blasphemy, and inaccuracy. He hadn’t really thought of himself as worthy of an official title, but Nevia had started referring to his type as dispellers and it just sort of stuck.

Heaton cut through his scarred flesh before Daniel could voice an objection. It was just another in a long list of things that he would complain about later. It was getting tiresome, but Daniel wasn’t in a position to take the high or low road, so instead he would just sit in the middle and ignore it all.

“Walk it around. I want to get to the pub before closing.”

Instead of walking around, Heaton milked the wound, letting the gash pour blood on to the graveled roof. Daniel looked away as he did. He wasn’t particularly sickened by the sight of blood, but he was sickened by Heaton’s severity. He was generally a calm mediator, but recently his sudden outbursts of bravery, violence, and on occasion sexism, were starting to push the envelope. He had even had Nevia sniff check him for parasites. No luck. Heaton was just becoming an ass.

“Maybe if I gash my throat I could get you there before the good tarts are taken.”

Daniel turned back to him. His face was smiling like he was joking, but his voice had said otherwise. “Really,” Daniel nodded lowering his voice to a level that allowed him to keep his temper in check. Outside of being mad drunk, he didn’t have a problem keeping his anger management issues in check. He always wondered why it was so important for him to keep himself under control when no one else did. “Was that supposed to be funny?”

“I don’t know, are you laughing?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m quite the opposite of laughter.”

“I don’t see any tears.” Heaton weaved his head to see.

“Crying is not the opposite of laughing,” Daniel objected.

“What? Yes it is. Have you ever seen drama masks: happy, sad.”

“Laughing is not happy.”

“Of course it is.” Heaton raised his voice to help make his point. “You’re happy when you laugh.”

“Not always. I’ve laughed when I’m sad. You laugh when something is funny. You laugh through tears. Laughing is just an extension of an emotion. Just like you can cry when you’re sad, or you cry when you’re happy.”