Dark Descendant (17 page)

Unfortunately, Anderson had already let me know there was another condition I had to

meet to earn his help.

“And second,” I continued for him, “there’s someone you want me to find for you. Who?

And why?”

The corners of his eyes tightened with what looked like pain. “Her name is Emma

Poindexter,” he said. He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s

been missing for almost ten years. And I want you to find her because she’s my wife.”

TWELVE

I sat in stunned
silence at Anderson’s kitchen table. I don’t know why I was so

surprised. He might not be drop-dead gorgeous, but Anderson was certainly attractive enough,

and he obviously had money and power. Why would I assume a man like him was single?

Especially when he was most likely centuries old?

“Your wife,” I repeated when I could find my voice. I glanced at his left hand, but there

was no ring on his finger. At least I hadn’t missed so obvious a clue as that.

He nodded. “She’s a
Liberi
, descended of Nyx—the Greek goddess of night.” He shifted

in his seat, no longer meeting my eyes. “Konstantin and I may not be at open war with each other

now, but that wasn’t always the case. Konstantin hates me more than words can express for

challenging his ‘rule.’ So to punish me for luring some of his Olympians out of the fold, he

kidnapped Emma.”

Anderson closed his eyes. His fists were clenched in his lap, his shoulders tight with

strain. I felt a very feminine urge to comfort him, but I managed to stifle it. I didn’t know him

well enough to offer comfort.

When he opened his eyes, there was a hint of red around the edges, like he’d been crying,

although I saw no evidence of tears. “He claims he interred her. Buried her alive.”

I couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped me. “But she’s
Liberi
…” I whispered.

“Yes. She’s
Liberi
. If he’s telling the truth, if he didn’t just have one of his pet

Descendants kill her, then she’s been in the ground, unable to escape even through death, for

almost ten years.”

He blinked rapidly, as if trying to stave off tears. His voice was steadier when he

resumed, but there was a faint, husky tone to it. “You see, Nikki, I know what it’s like to have

someone you love used as a weapon against you. I’ll do everything in my power to help you

protect your family if you will do everything in
your
power to help me find Emma.”

In all honesty, it’s a case I might well have taken on without any need for threat or

ultimatum. How could I not take pity on someone who’d suffered so horribly? Even if Emma

was a raving bitch, I’d have felt sorry for her, but since I didn’t know her it was even easier to

picture her as the innocent victim of an evil, vindictive bastard.

As a P.I., I’d always specialized in locates and skip traces—basically, finding people who

didn’t want to be found. But this wasn’t going to be a typical locate. None of the tools I used to

find missing persons—things like online searches and interviews with people who might have

heard from her—was going to help me find someone who was buried, and had been in the

ground for almost ten years. Everyone seemed to assume I had some kind of supernatural

hunting powers, but other than my sudden improvement in marksmanship, I’d seen no sign of

them.

“Will you help me, Nikki?” Anderson asked, and the plea in his voice made something in

my chest hurt. I wasn’t trusting enough to believe everything he’d said, and I had the distinct

impression there were plenty of things he’d left out of the story, but I
did
believe he was hurting.

A lot.

“Yes,” I said, because what else could I possibly answer? Even if I didn’t need his help

myself, I doubt I could have resisted that plea. Never mind that I hadn’t the faintest idea how I

could actually go about helping him. “If you’ll help me protect my family, I’ll do everything I

can to help find Emma.”

“Thank you,” he said, then heaved a big sigh. “I’ve been without hope for so long I’d

forgotten what it feels like.”

The knot in my chest tightened. I hated to get his hopes up when the chances that I could

find Emma seemed so slim.

Anderson smiled wanly. “Don’t worry. Unlike Konstantin, I am not prone to unrealistic

expectations. I know there’s a chance he’s lying to me and she’s been dead all along. I also know

there’s a chance even
your
skills won’t prove equal to finding her, and that even if we find her, she may be irreparably damaged by what she’s been through.”

Anderson shook off some of his sadness. He sat up straighter in his chair, and his hands

finally relaxed in his lap. I wondered if he’d been clenching them hard enough to leave nail

marks on his palms.

“You’ll need to move in as soon as possible,” he said. “If Konstantin finds out you and I

have reached an agreement before you’re actually under my roof, he’ll declare open season on

you.”

I was in no hurry to install myself in the mansion, and I didn’t like the sense that

Anderson was trying to rush me. However, the idea of spending another night in the hotel didn’t

have much appeal, either, and I still wouldn’t feel safe going home. I had to stay
somewhere

tonight. Besides, I reminded myself, I was planning to consider this mansion an ultra-luxurious

hotel. A stopgap measure until I could figure out a better way to protect Steph.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

He nodded briskly. “Good. I’ll open up one of the spare bedrooms for you.”

“Thanks. What about Jamaal? And Blake?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about them?” I would have thought he was playing stupid,

except he looked genuinely puzzled by my question.

“You might have noticed they don’t like me much. How are they going to feel if I move

in under your roof?”

Anderson shrugged. “Their feelings about it don’t enter into the equation. This is
my

house, and I can invite whomever I please.” He seemed to notice the severity in his voice and

flashed me a rueful smile. “There I go being tyrannical again, huh?”

I smiled back. “I wasn’t going to say it.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. “Blake might not like it, but he’ll understand. Jamaal

will need some careful handling, but I’ll have a long talk with him while you’re gone. I’ll make it

very clear that he’s to play nice with you.”

“Even though he still thinks I killed Emmitt on purpose?”

Anderson’s brow furrowed. “I have to wonder if he really believes that. It would be

awfully hard for a Descendant not affiliated with the Olympians to find out we existed at all,

much less understand her own heritage and our vulnerability, then arrange to kill one of us.”

“Who said she’s not affiliated with the Olympians?” a voice asked from the hall just

outside the kitchen, and we both jumped a little.

The adrenaline kept pumping as I turned to watch Jamaal walk casually into the kitchen.

He was looking much more sane today. There was still an unmistakable spark of anger in his

eyes, but he no longer looked crazed by it. That didn’t make him any less lethal.

On the scale of male beauty as judged by Nikki Glass, Jamaal was the most gorgeous of

all the
Liberi
I’d met. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the build and the grace of an athlete. He wore his hair in shoulder-length beaded braids, the braids following the contours of his elegantly

shaped skull up to about his ears. High cheekbones, luxuriously long eyelashes, and full, sensual

lips made his face into a work of art. I’d never seen him smile, but I suspected the effect would be devastating.

Of course, I’d have found him a lot more attractive if he weren’t looking at me with such

loathing. At least he wasn’t charging at me with murder in his eyes.

Anderson pushed his chair back from the table, watching Jamaal carefully although he

didn’t get up.

“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t to be disturbed,” he said, and though his voice was

mild, there was a threat implied in his words.

Jamaal didn’t come any closer, but he didn’t go away, either. “Sounded to me like you

were wrapping up.”

“Eavesdropping?” Anderson asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You’ve been hanging

around Jack too long.”

Jamaal grimaced in distaste. “Low blow, boss.”

I gathered that Jamaal and Jack weren’t great friends, which I supposed made sense. Jack

was a trickster, and I’d seen no evidence to date that Jamaal even knew what a sense of humor

was.

“I call ’em like I see ’em,” was Anderson’s unrepentant reply. “How long have you been

listening?”

Jamaal hunched his shoulders like a little kid getting scolded by his dad. “Long enough to

think it was time to let you know I was here. Sorry.” He flicked a glance at me, his expression no

warmer than it had ever been when he looked at me. “My question stands: who says she’s not

working for the Olympians? Wouldn’t Konstantin just laugh his ass off if we accepted his

murdering little spy into our house with open arms!”

“If I had my choice,” I said before Anderson could answer, “I’d have nothing to do with

any of you. I want my life back.”

“So you say,” Jamaal countered. “But talk is cheap.”

“Children…” Anderson chided, making a long-suffering face. I chose not to respond to

Jamaal’s jibe, and he subsided. Anderson nodded his approval.

“If it turns out she’s a spy working for Konstantin,” Anderson said, “we’ll deal with it

when we have proof.” The look he shot me then spoke volumes about just how he would “deal

with it.” He might be giving me the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn’t wholly convinced of my

innocence.

I was too stubborn to drop my gaze, though it was hard to look into his eyes when his

expression was so forbidding. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he turned to Jamaal.

“I need you to prove to me that you can keep it together without Emmitt around to

balance your temper. Nikki is now under my protection, and I won’t have her being threatened or

harassed by one of my own people.”

Jamaal’s chin jutted out stubbornly, and the look in his eyes was downright mutinous,

though he didn’t argue. At least not out loud. Anderson apparently read his expression the same

way I did.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, “but you have no place under this roof if you can’t

accept my authority.”

I squirmed and wished I could be anywhere else but here. The sudden pain on Jamaal’s

face was too much to bear. He was still grieving for his friend, still furious at me, and Anderson

had just delivered a threat that caused a soul-deep hurt.

I didn’t like Jamaal, of course. But I
could
empathize with him. I wasn’t sure what the

relationship had been between him and Emmitt—had they been more than friends?—but the pain of that loss was obviously agonizing. I knew what it was like to act out when in pain. I’d spent

years doing it after my mother abandoned me. I suspected Jamaal was feeling abandoned himself

right now, and to have Anderson threaten to kick him out for my sake must have been like a

dagger to his heart.

“So,” Anderson prompted when Jamaal just stood there looking devastated, “are you

going to accept Nikki’s right to stay in my house? Or are we going to have a problem?”

Jamaal shot me a look of pure loathing. “There’s no problem,” he replied. “As long as

you don’t expect me to
like
it, I can accept her presence.”

Internally, I groaned. I was supposed to stay in the same house with this guy? That meant

I’d probably have to come face to face with him on a regular basis, which seemed like a recipe

for disaster.

But I was only going to move in for a little while, I told myself. Just until I could figure

out some other way to protect Steph. If putting up with Jamaal and his hostility was the price I

had to pay for her safety, then I was ready to pay it.

But I had a sneaking suspicion matters were not settled between Jamaal and me, no

matter what Anderson had ordered, or what Jamaal had grudgingly promised.

THIRTEEN

After dinner, I went
back to my hotel and packed up my meager belongings. I hadn’t

brought a whole lot of stuff, but I was reluctant to go home and pack a bigger suitcase. It

wouldn’t surprise me if Konstantin was having my place watched, and I wasn’t foolish enough to

ignore Anderson’s warnings. I needed to establish myself as being under Anderson’s protection

before I ran into Konstantin or Alexis again. Anderson had promised to call Konstantin and

“register” me as being under his protection as soon as I arrived back at the mansion.

I called Steph before I left and let her know I wasn’t going to be at my home number for

at least a few days. Naturally, she tried to wring details out of me, but there were none I could

give her. I just told her the same thing I’d told her at dinner last night, that a disgruntled wannabe

client was giving me trouble. She was far from satisfied, but she let the subject drop, for which I

was profoundly grateful.

It was almost eleven o’clock by the time I pulled up in front of the gates of the mansion

again. Fate decided to screw with my head and dumped a bunch of unexpected rain on Arlington

the moment the gates opened to admit me. My hands squeezed tight on the steering wheel, and I