Marked (12 page)

For the first time, she seemed to have truly caught the Lord of the Kere off guard. He turned stiffly to face her. “What did you say?”

She swore she could see the faintest of red flames in his eyes.

“I think you heard me.” Her mind was spinning. She was desperate to know why her father had been there but had no desire to draw any attention to Eli. A Ker had been looking through his bedroom window that night, but it hadn’t Marked him. And yet Cacy doubted it was a coincidence.

Moros leaned across the desk toward her, no longer trying to hide the inhuman red glow in his eyes. “I don’t play games, little girl, so stop being coy. If you want anything from me, you will pay me . . . in information, or through another method of my choosing. I think we have established that I do not work for free.” He did not break eye contact with her as he took his gloves off and set them on the desk in front of him.

Cacy fought the urge to back herself up against the wall. The danger of Moros’s touch was the stuff of myth and nightmares, and his threat was clear as he laid his palms flat on the deeply grained wood and spread his fingers.

“I’ll tell you this,” she said, her words tumbling out in a breathless flow. “Father was in Cambridge that night.
After
he died. It’s where we found him when we entered the Veil to guide his soul.”

Moros seemed to be trying to look straight into her mind. The intensity of his gaze nearly burned her, but she didn’t look away. He leaned forward even further, his body now halfway across the desk, his face only inches from hers. “Cacia, why do you think your father made you executor? It was a shock to your family. I heard them talking about it at his funeral.”

She stood her ground. “I think . . . I think he trusted me. He trusted that I would take care of his affairs.”

The red glow faded to smoldering cinders within the steely gray. “You don’t think he trusted your older siblings?”

Cacy’s brow furrowed. “I-I’m sure he did. But it was just the two of us in that house for so long after my mother died. We were close.”

“He worked with Rylan and Aislin every day. He wasn’t close to them?”

She shrugged. She wasn’t about to air her family’s dirty laundry, but it was an open family secret that Rylan and Aislin had been at each other’s throats for years. “He did work with them every day. But maybe that’s why he thought I would be the better choice.”

Moros paused, then said, “Well, I shall consider trusting you, too.”

Cacy looked up to see Moros pulling his gloves on and tried to make her sigh of relief as subtle as possible. But he was leaving, and she hadn’t yet gotten what she needed. She opened her mouth to stop him, but he shook his head and said, “As stimulating as this has been, I have other things to attend to. But believe me, we will meet again. Soon.” He turned in place and was gone.

Cacy fell into the chair behind her like someone had kicked her legs out from under her. She reached forward and chugged the remaining Scotch, relishing the painful pleasure as it scorched her throat. She had spent all her courage facing down the Lord of the Kere. While she had no real answers, she had gotten something useful out of him. He
had
planned to meet her father that night to make some sort of major decision. And he obviously knew what was important about her father’s presence in Cambridge, but he didn’t trust her enough yet to tell her what it was.

Something about the whole conversation bothered her, though: he was supposed to know just about everything, but he seemed to want information about the circumstances surrounding her father’s death as badly as she did.

At least he would contact her again soon. Moros was known for keeping his promises. It was one of the reasons people were afraid of him.
One
of the reasons.

Cacy stood on wobbly legs, opened the door to the meeting room, and walked down the hall toward the noise of a party in full swing. This would not be a solemn memorial to Patrick Ferry. This would be a balls-out send-off. Cacy wasn’t sure she was up to it, but she owed it to the guys. She put a hand to her stomach, which was empty except for the warm curl of Scotch steadily winding into her bloodstream. She knew she should eat something soon, or she wouldn’t last long.

She threaded her way through the crowd and was immediately spotted by Dec, who waved a half-empty bottle of whiskey at her. “Cacy!” he shouted. Everyone else turned toward her and whooped.

“Thanks for coming, guys. Here I am,” she called, raising her arms. Someone pressed a beer bottle into her hand, and she put it to her lips and downed it in one long chug while everyone cheered. She lifted the empty bottle and shouted, “To Patrick Ferry!”

Everyone went nuts. Cacy accepted another beer and listened to a few other guys toast her father and his memory, cheering raucously in all the right places. But her eyes searched the crowd. Where was Eli? Had he decided not to come? Her heart sank, and she realized how much
she’d
wanted to see him.

“Hey, Cace.”

She looked up to see Trevor standing next to her. Every muscle in her body tensed, and his relaxed smile disappeared. “Looks like I’m guilty until proven innocent,” he said as he clinked his beer bottle against hers and took a drink.

She leaned close to him, feeling the incredible heat emanating from his immense body. “Did you Mark him? You said you’d gotten a last-minute assignment. Was it him?”

Trevor looked down at her, his eyes so brown they looked black in the dim light of the bar. “You think I would do that? Mark your father without a heads-up? We’re
friends
, Cacy.”

“You’re a Ker,” she blurted out.

His lips formed a tight line. “Now I see how it is with you. I thought you saw me as a person, but I’m thinking you see me as something less than that. Well, here’s some news for you. I Marked your father’s
killer
that night. He had a nasty run-in with a tree branch deep in the Common. He was just a street punk, Cacy. Not much more than a kid. I found three Afterlife coins in his pocket, if that tells you anything.” When he saw her mouth open, he snapped, “I didn’t know he was going to kill your father, if that’s what you’re going to accuse me of next.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked away, picking at the label on her beer bottle. Trevor was right; she did have some prejudice against the Kere. But Trevor had never been anything but a friend to her. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”

He lifted her face with gentle fingers. “Listen, Cace, I know how much this hurt you. If I can find out more about it, I will. I’ve already told Dec that. I turned the Afterlife coins over to him, but we all know it’s impossible to trace them. So we only know one thing for sure—the human who killed your dad was someone else’s puppet.”

Something occurred to her, and she was just tipsy enough to say it out loud. “Does Moros know who Marked my father? Did he give the go-ahead personally?”

“Moros gives all the assignments. Why would you doubt that?”

“I’m wondering if he’s as much in control of his empire as he wants people to think.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say.”

She forced herself to stand tall. “Even more so if it’s true.”

“Everything all right here?” Eli appeared behind Cacy, and in the close-packed space of the bar, he and Trevor formed a Cacy sandwich. Eli put his hands on her shoulders, and she automatically sank backward into his solid warmth.

“Everything is completely all right,” she said as she stared up at Trevor, who was looking at Eli with frank curiosity, like he couldn’t believe someone would challenge him like this. “We were wondering who would suck more this year in interleague soccer—Fire or Police.”

Trevor smiled, though Cacy caught the flash of red in his eyes.
She’d
struck a nerve with her concerns about Moros. “Police,” he said. “They’re barely hanging on. Catch you later, Cace. Eli.” He nodded at them and turned to wave at some paramedics who’d just come through the door.

Cacy twisted to look up at Eli, amazed at the ecstatic, skipping beat of her heart. “You’re here,” she said.

He grinned as his eyes searched her face. “That’s the second time you’ve said that to me today. You always seem so surprised.”

She barely knew how to explain what was going on inside her. The past hours had been full of worry and responsibility and sorrow, but seeing him made it all go away. “I haven’t really given you any reason to show up, and yet here you are.”

He laughed. “If that’s what you think, you don’t see yourself very clearly.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, sending little shocks of pleasure shimmying through her.

“Can I buy you a drink, Sergeant Margolis?” She slid her arm around his waist, suddenly certain she wanted him to be by her side for the rest of the night. Bad idea, maybe, but she couldn’t make herself care.

He raised his head and looked around, obviously trying to spot someone among the horde of half-intoxicated paramedics pressed in around them. But a second later he was smiling at her again. “I’d love that.”

They wound their way through the crowd, Cacy fielding slaps on the back. When one landed on her ass, Eli instantly slipped in behind her and guided her in front of him. She hopped onto a barstool, and he claimed the one next to her. He was still wearing jeans, but
he’d
changed into a black T-shirt that fit him so well it had to be a crime. Cacy tried to direct her thoughts away from what it might be like to peel it off him.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender as he set two beers in front of the guys next to them.

Cacy looked at Eli inquiringly, but he just shrugged. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

“Aw, come on, Eli,” she began, but then she saw the look on his face and realized he might not actually know what he liked. “Two Jamesons, water back.”

The bartender nodded and turned away. Cacy bumped Eli’s knees with her own. “Let me guess. You didn’t get out much in Whatsitburgh?”

“No such thing as bars there. At least, not for ordinary people. Water was rationed so carefully that no one could afford anything beyond the basics.”

Cacy bit her lip. He said it matter-of-factly, but she felt like a jerk.
She’d
known they were better off in the East, but she hadn’t known how bad it had gotten everywhere else. “I’m glad you found your way here.”

His smile was sad. “I didn’t, not really. It was my sister. She’s the brains of this outfit. She got offered this once-in-a-lifetime position at Harvard. Our parents died a few years ago, so we didn’t have anything keeping us in Pittsburgh, and had every reason to leave.”

Cacy reached out and took his hand. “Then I’m grateful to your sister.”

The bartender came back and set their glasses down. Cacy swiped her phone over the scanner embedded in the edge of the bar counter, which brought up her bill. “Add a round for the guys,” she said.

“Round on the house!” the bartender shouted, and a roar went up all around them.

Eli laughed, and Cacy noticed he had a dimple in his cheek when he smiled big enough. She reached out and touched her finger to it. Eli stopped laughing and put his hand over hers, keeping it there for a moment. Then he pulled it away from his face and wrapped her fingers around her glass. He picked up his own and held it up. She did the same.

“To fresh starts,” he said, in a light voice that belied the intense look in his eyes. He clinked his glass against hers and threw the whiskey back.

Cacy had her glass to her lips when Eli started to cough. She set it down and clapped him on the back.

“Man, that burns,” he wheezed, his eyes wide.

“You’ve never had Jameson before?”

“I’ve never had alcohol before,” he admitted, his cheeks turning red. Cacy suddenly found herself thinking about how much fun it might be to introduce Eli to
all
her vices.

“So, you’re a mockolate virgin, a cannoli virgin,
and
an alcohol virgin? Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

He chuckled and nodded at the bartender, who set another glass in front of him. Eli’s smile was so sexy it nearly made her fall off her chair. “You’ll have to get to know me a little better for that.”

Cacy reached for her glass and tapped it against his, surprised at how badly she wanted to get to know him
a little better
. “It’s a deal.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

E
li downed his fourth drink quickly, noting with gratitude that his throat no longer felt like it was about to explode. The tingling looseness in his arms and legs was pleasant, and he didn’t think
he’d
smiled or laughed this much in years. But that wasn’t because of the alcohol. Cacy was still next to him, sitting close enough for her hair to tickle his arm.
He’d
never talked about himself this much before, either, but she seemed to want to know, and he realized he wanted her to. Every time he tried to move the conversation in her direction, though, she turned it around on him or changed the subject. It occurred to him that she was being evasive again, but it was hard to hold on to those thoughts right now, because the rest of her was so damn distracting.

The bare skin of her shoulder was warm against his bicep as she leaned over and peeked into the glass clutched in his hands. “Another?”

He looked down at her full pink lips curling into a sensuous smile. Her eyes were bright. “I may be reaching my limit. I think you might be, too, Lieutenant.”

“My metabolism would astound you,” she giggled, waving at the bartender, who sauntered over with the bottle, like
he’d
been waiting, and refilled her glass.

“I’ll bet it would,” Eli muttered, recalling how her body had healed itself from what
he’d
believed was a fatal wound.

“Mmm?” She laid her head against his shoulder and put her hand on his knee. Eli clenched his jaw. She was touching him way too much, which was bad in all kinds of ways. For the five hundredth time in the last hour, he looked around the room, searching for Len or Dec, wondering if
they’d
noticed.

“I was just thinking there are a lot of things about you that would probably astound me,” he said more breathlessly than he intended as her hand slid up to his thigh. “Cacy . . .”
Don’t do this to me. I won’t be able to say no.

She raised her head and looked straight into his eyes, like
he’d
said his thoughts aloud. For a moment, he wondered if he had. She was close enough for her spicy scent to fill him up, warm enough for him to lean in to her, tempting enough to draw his entire body tight with desire. No matter what she wore, she always looked sexy, but tonight, she had on a tank top that left little to his active imagination. Her skirt ended midthigh and flared at the bottom, which was both incredibly cute and painfully sexy. And with the rush of alcohol through his veins, he was having an increasingly hard time keeping his hands off her, which was why they were gripping his glass like they were held there with vascular glue.

The heat and longing in her gaze made his teeth grind. She opened her mouth to say something, and all he could think was,
Anything
.
Anything you want, and I’ll give it to you. Just ask me. Please ask me.

Suddenly cheers went up in the crowd, and the pounding music went silent. A wiry guy wearing all black leaped onto the bar, holding a violin. He flashed a wide grin and pointed his bow down at the Chief, who was looking disheveled and holding a near-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Dec lifted it in a salute.

The violinist tucked the instrument against his chin, and the bar got quiet. He laid the bow against the strings and began to play what Eli soon recognized as “Danny Boy,” the lonely, lilting swell of the music rising over the hush of the crowd. He looked at Cacy, whose easy smile had dissolved. Eli glanced around him at all the somber, sad faces. Then he stared down at the bar, once again replaying his moments with Patrick Ferry, wishing
he’d
been able to save him.

The song ended, and there was a moment of silence. Then the musician drew his bow along the strings with a screeching dissonance and launched into some sort of jig, stomping on the bar with his hard-heeled boots. The depth of the sound increased, and Eli leaned over to see a bagpipe player standing on the other side of the bar, his fingers flying.

“Dance!” shouted the men around him. “Time for a dance, Chief!”

Dec had his arms up in the air like he was in no mood to argue. “Where’s my sister?” he yelled. “I need Cacy!”

“I knew this would happen,” she laughed. “Right here, boys. Here I come.” She rose from her barstool, resting her hands on Eli’s shoulders and leaning so close that her breasts brushed against the side of his face. He was barely able to suppress his moan. He turned his head away to look at the fiddler on the bar, who was playing like his life depended on it.

The pressure of Cacy’s hands disappeared, and Eli looked around to find her.
She’d
climbed onto the bar, and now her shapely legs were right in front of his face. His eyes traced from ankles to thighs. If he lifted his gaze a few inches,
he’d
know if she was wearing underwear. He glanced at the guys around him, who were gaping at her with naked appreciation, and found himself praying she was.

Her face was glowing beneath the lights of the bar. She was looking down at him, that heat still in her eyes, and she winked. Her white teeth flashed as she grinned and began to dance, her heels clacking against the bar rhythmically, providing the perfect percussion for the fiddle and bagpipes. Her feet were moving incredibly fast, just a blur. She inched her way across the bar, her feet never stopping, and abruptly dove forward into the outstretched arms of the guys at the edge of the bar. Eli shot to his feet, trying to see her, desperate to know if she was all right, but then a space cleared and she was there with Dec, who was dancing now as well. Their backs were straight, their shoulders squared, and their feet clacked a precise beat against the wooden planks of the floor as they hopped and spun in time with the music.

The men and women around them were dancing as well, but none of them held a candle to the Ferrys, who looked like
they’d
been dancing that way all their lives. Both of them were smiling, but their eyes were shining with unshed tears. Dec’s black hair was plastered to his face, while Cacy’s flew around her as her brother lifted her up and swung her around.

All Eli could do was stare. Cacy’s cheeks were a lush pink, and her smile was so beautiful it hurt him. Her movements were sure and graceful, lithe and strong.
He’d
never seen anything so lovely, and
he’d
never wanted anyone as badly. The crowd was packed tightly around her and her brother, and Eli leaned so he could keep his eyes on her, needing to see her as much as he needed to breathe. His heart pounded in time with the music. His head pounded, too, saturated with desire. His breaths came quick and deep, and suddenly he was dizzy with his want of her, and he had to get away from it. Because, as he stared at Dec, at everyone else crowded around her, he realized he wasn’t part of her world. And it hurt too much.

Eli staggered toward the exit. He couldn’t reach it fast enough. Cacy had sucked all the air from the room. He stumbled through the door and drew deep lungfuls of swampy Boston air. His head was spinning as he walked unsteadily to the canal wall and leaned against it, the image of Cacy’s bright eyes and wide smile taunting him.

“God, I shouldn’t have come,” he mumbled, staring down at the cloudy brown water lit up by the streetlights.
He’d
spent all week being driven crazy by her remoteness and mystery, and now
he’d
spent all evening being driven crazy by her raw, sexy charm. Maybe that was it. No matter what she was up to, no matter her mood, no matter what was going on for her, Cacy just drove him crazy.

And he needed to get over it. She was a freaking princess in a family that ruled the city. She had brothers who could bury him, and who probably would if they suspected Eli was messing around with her. Even worse than that, she was hiding something from him. Something big. Maybe the whole family had had some type of genetic enhancement that allowed them to heal supernaturally fast. Or maybe
they’d
all sold their souls for eternal youth, and that was why the Chief looked twenty-five, though Eli had discovered the other day that
he’d
been the head of the Chinatown station for the last fifteen years. And none of that explained the pendants every single member of the family wore around their necks, or why Cacy’s was apparently a portal to some parallel dimension.

Eli hung his head and closed his eyes, but that made him feel like he was falling, so he opened them again. Maybe he should let himself get transferred. Maybe what he needed was to get away from the Ferrys, and especially Cacy, who’d been on his mind every waking second since
he’d
met her. Many sleeping seconds, too. His dreams of her had left him spent and aching. And
he’d
only known her for a week. He didn’t think he could take much more.

“Dammit,” he snapped, pulling himself up and turning to go. Deep in the bar, a raucous cheer went up, and despite his frustration, he paused. Half of him was clawing to go back in there, to watch her some more. Another part of him wanted to go far beyond just watching. That part wanted to push her up against a wall, ruck her skirt up, and plunge into her. Hard.

He’d
taken one heavy step toward the door of the bar when it opened. Len, Manny, and Gil stepped out, their eyes focused on him. “Hey,” Len sneered. “I guess Cacy finally got tired of babysitting your sorry ass.”

Eli stopped short. Len was probably right, but it still pissed him off. He chuckled, half-surprised to realize he no longer gave a fuck what Len thought about him. “Jealous, sir?”

Len stepped up close to him, bumping Eli’s chest with his own. The guy was at least five inches shorter, but a lot wider. Eli took a few lazy steps back, still chuckling quietly while his pulse beat hard in his ears.

Len’s smile was pure ugliness. “I guess it’s my turn with her, eh? She looks good tonight, doesn’t she? Pretty drunk, too. Maybe I can bend her over the bar once Dec’s passed out.” He high-fived Gil.

A rush of pure rage roared through Eli. “She doesn’t want you. Don’t touch her.”

Len’s face twisted. “Are you threatening me?”

Eli smiled, now past caring about anything this asshole could do to him. Len had crossed the line, and Eli wanted to hurt him very badly. “Yessir, I am.”

It was almost a relief when Len swung at him. Eli ducked instinctively, and Len staggered. A reckless anger burned through Eli, and when Len charged again, Eli drew back and slammed his fist into Len’s jaw. Len hit the pavement with a curse. He stood up and spat blood onto the concrete as he massaged his jaw. “Boy, you are not long for this world.”

He, Manny, and Gil charged Eli all at once, fists flying. Eli braced himself and took Gil out with a solid roundhouse kick, but Len doubled Eli over with a blow to the stomach, and Manny grabbed Eli’s hair and wrenched him off balance. Eli drove a knee hard into Manny’s ribs, and Manny let go of him with a grunt. But Eli barely had time to take a breath before Gil jumped on top of him, making him stumble back against the canal wall. Eli bent sharply and flipped Gil over his shoulders, but he didn’t even have time to straighten up before Len hit him like a freight train, driving his shoulder into Eli’s chest. Len lunged and jerked Eli’s legs up, sending him plummeting over the canal wall. Eli’s head cracked against the cement as he fell. His world turned black.