Chapter 10
10
I lost myself in the trail of money, using every trick of forensic accounting I could come up with until I finally started to find what I was looking for. He’d simply instructed me to find the discrepancy, but one issue led straight to another until I found a trail of bread crumbs to follow.
I heard the office door open and close, but I managed to keep my eyes glued to the screen until he came into my peripheral vision. I took getting dressed for meetings to mean he’d be putting on a suit. Instead, he stood there in a pair of leather pants and biker boots. He’d pulled his hair back into a high bun and wore just a trace of eyeliner that made the black of his eyes seem ancient and omniscient. A pair of dangly silver earrings hung from his ears and an intricate black necklace hung all the way down to his navel. It shifted on his chest and stomach every time he moved, drawing my eye there.
“Are you allergic to wearing a shirt?”
These pants were cut even lower than his sweatpants, and the line of muscle that led down into them was impossible not to follow. I tore my eyes away and looked up to find him smirking.
“People try to use shame as a weapon. I turn it back on them. Someone goes to the effort of wearing a suit, and I don’t even bother with a shirt—who do you think has the power in that situation?”
“So you do it to deliberately make people uncomfortable? That tracks.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but the door thumped open, and a man the size of a giant charged in. He looked six and a half feet tall and thick , with a short beard and shaggy dark hair that was shaved on the sides.
And he was pissed.
On instinct, I jumped up from the chair and moved to the corner, putting more furniture between us. He glanced in my direction and paused like he didn’t want to scare me, but then he continued his advance on my blackmailer.
“Did you fuck her?” the giant growled in the deepest voice I’d ever heard.
The devious bastard calmly stood his ground. “Did I fuck whom, Azrael?”
He’s seriously called Azrael?
“Don’t play bullshit games with me. Styx. Did you fuck her?” The menace in Azrael’s tone should’ve had the other guy cowering if he had any sense.
“No,” my blackmailer said simply.
Azrael reeled back, but his expression was disbelieving. “Come on, Reaper. I saw the bruises.”
Reaper! His name is Reaper ? A code name in their organization, maybe? Also…what the fuck? Reaper beat a woman?
Reaper reclaimed his place on the couch, looking unconcerned. “She’s a little pain slut. The impact play was entirely consensual.”
He bruised someone because she wanted it?
Azrael pointed a finger. “Don’t fucking touch her again.” He turned to leave.
Reaper’s smirk had a vicious edge. “You’re lucky it was me she came to.”
Azrael whipped back around, his hands clenched into fists. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Reaper was still perfectly calm, even though, from where I was standing, it looked like he was a hairsbreadth away from being crushed beneath Azrael’s massive fists. “If you don’t give her what she wants, she’s going to look for it elsewhere.”
Azrael raked a hand through his hair, and all the angry energy seemed to drain from him. His voice was gravelly. “She’s…been through some shit. She doesn’t talk about it, but I know enough.”
“And you think treating her like she’s going to break is the answer? She wants to feel normal. Wanted. She wants it with you. You’re a bastard if you won’t give her that.”
My jaw almost dropped at the desperate look on Reaper’s face and the intensity in his voice. He cared about these people, and he was letting me see it. There had to be an angle.
Azrael just nodded once, then looked at me. “Is that Juliet Bryson?”
Fuck!
I hugged shaking arms around myself like I could somehow hide my identity now.
Reaper reclined back with his arms folded above his head. “Yes.”
Azrael frowned at the laptop on the desk. “And is that…?”
“Yes.”
Azrael shook his head slowly. “You’re a real fuckin’ piece of work.”
It was said with a mix of fondness and disgust. Evidently, he didn’t love Reaper giving me access to his books.
“So I’m told. Is that all?” Reaper sounded bored.
“No. Grim’s waiting.”
What the hell have I stumbled into where these are seriously their names?
Reaper made a graceful gesture with his fingers. “Tell the traitor to come in.”
Azrael left and was replaced by a guy who was built more like Reaper but a little bulkier. He at least had deigned to put on a black T-shirt that matched his shoulder-length dark hair and his black pants. His eyes were the palest blue I’d ever seen, which gave him an almost eerie quality. If Reaper was sex incarnate, this guy was more like death incarnate. I wouldn’t want to be left in a room alone with him. He creeped me the hell out.
Reaper tilted his head. “You couldn’t have warned me Az was out for blood?”
Grim’s expression remained stony. “Told you what would happen if you meddled.” His eerie eyes flicked to me, then back to Reaper. “The candidates are here.”